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Thread: The Never-ending Story Thread≤

  1. #1321
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    Wink Britt's in the Jungle. The Chinese Jungle.


    Before we return to our irregularly-scheduled story, here is a quick summary of what is happening in the NeS - the Never-ending Story thread - for the new and old alike.

    Not long ago, the protagonists of the NeS battled against the absurdly powerful-and-apathetic wizard, JM, and his Dark Alliance of villains for the fate of the story-world itself. They held out just long enough for the wizard to lose interest and forfeit his nihilistic scheme, only for a far more driven villain, named Knowsoul, to set forth on his own plot to end the Never-ending Story. Our would-be-heroes now give chase to Knowsoul, back down the seductively-nostalgic Memory Lane, before he can reach the story's source and consume the very soul of the Never-ending Story...

    Knowsoul: Once two powerful forces of their own - the Legion-like spectre known as the Darkside and a Grim Reaper-esque construct known as Tsolo, the Avatar of Loss - have now become a soul-devouring amalgamation. Their singular desire now is to consume the forgotten spirit of the NeS itself, bringing an end to the never-ending story-world.

    Losien Simon: She is now the main character and leader of the NeS would-be-heroes, a role which she is just now becoming accustomed to acting in confidence. Extremely beautiful yet severely lacking in self-esteem. By the tropes that are natural law in the story-world of the NeS, all hope of success relies on her.

    Gebohq Simon: Losien's brother, Geb was till recently the main character of the NeS. He is something of a coward and misfit, yet this overlies a core of bravery and the desire to do the right and loving thing. He has made a Hell-bound bargain hinging on his success in personally having a heroic hand in thwarting Knowsoul, with success resulting in the release of his friends' souls and failure resulting in the loss of his own.

    Al Ciao: A former powerplayer who struggles now with his imposed role as ruler of Hell. Normally, by turns, zany and melodramatic, Al now faces a dilemma: help his friends save existence once more or embrace his selfish power and antagonize all who would stand in his way. If nothing else, his Hell-bound bargain with Gebohq complicates matters.

    The Last True Evil: Destined as the Ultimate Villain of the NeS, the former Soviet spy seems to be flying in the face of fate. Now Losien's fiancee and father-figure to Amal, TLTE fights for the possibly-futile hope of his redemption. Resourceful and a Romantic in his own harsh way.

    Rachel Pi: Incarnation of April Fools and a servant of the NeS, Rachel is both fated as Geb's true love and keeper of conflict within the NeS. They are currently estranged, however, with Geb denying his love for the sake of the story and herself required to cause conflict when there is none. Of course, now that Geb is no longer main character, things may change...

    Amal: Once "raised" in solitude by Master Thand, Amal had only the company of books provided by Thand until found and adopted by TLTE. Since then, Amal has quickly grown up into a wise and discerning young man under TLTE's tutelage, promising to become a hero the likes of which would surpass Losien and Gebohq. Amal aims to do all he can for his new caretakers, Losien and TLTE, as well as keep an eye on the likes of Master Thand and Al Ciao.

    Young of NeS: "Born" a Blank Character from a wide cast of NeS protagonists and the NeS itself, she was fostered with the intention of freeing the characters of NeS from the reign of its Writers. Now nearly ready to give birth to her own child that she conceived with Gebohq's evil doppleganger, Young accompanies the group of would-be-heroes, as her own blood runs through the once-Tsolo Knowsoul, and she is necessary to counter Knowsoul's power. Young is pacifistic, sensitive to her surroundings, gifted, and generally how one would imagine a princess expecting with child to act.

    Master Thand: An sagely scholar, Thand is secretly the First Man of the NeS mythology. Unparalleled in his wisdom and knowledge, he is both aloof and altrustic. His agenda is mysterious, having both helped and hindered the would-be-heroes in the past. His current goal is to ensure that Knowsoul does not succeed and to study the problematic protagonists.

    And now, before stepping back to our irregularly-scheduled story, an interlude into the realm where the story itself could be seen to be written by self-serving, delusional people. A sort of creative "non-fiction" aspect of the Never-ending Story, if you will.


    In the Writers' Realm...

    Gebohq the Writer: Look I know he's in here somewhere.

    Al Ciao the Writer: I thought he said he was going to China?

    Gebohq the Writer: He also said he lived in the UK.

    Al Ciao: So where is he?

    Gebohq: Let's try his office.

    Liberius Vir the Writer: Wait, he has an office!?

    Gebohq: Apparently.

    Cool Matty the Writer: I don't even have an office!

    Liberius: I want an office too!

    Cool Matty: And me!

    Gebohq: None left.

    Cool Matty: I vaguely remember this being some kind of office block we're all in at some point in the past.

    Gebohq: And?

    Cool Matty: Office block equals lots of offices, right?

    Gebohq: They're all in use.

    Cool Matty: All of them? With what?

    Gebohq: Just stuff.

    Cool Matty: ...

    Gebohq: Okay fine. They're full of trash.

    Cool Matty: Why!?

    Gebohq: Since Janitor Bob the Writer left we've had no one to clean up after us and even though we bullied Tracer the Writer into doing it, he was never very good at cleaning...

    Cool Matty:

    Gebohq: Don't give me that frowny-face! Not like you're cleaning up, is it?

    Cool Matty:

    Al Ciao: Shall we just get this over with? We can discuss cleaning policy later.

    Cool Matty: Liberius is new, right? We should bully him into doing it.

    Liberius: Moving on!

    The shockingly small band of current writers marches through the office space, past the corpses of several former writers that died at their desks. Finally Gebohq stops at an office door that's covered in dust and grime.

    Cool Matty: Uh, this is one of those trash-offices, right?

    Gebohq: Nope. This is his office. The grime is what's put me off venturing in there for all these months. But now I've got you guys for backup.

    Gebohq turns to find the other three writers had taken a step backwards in unison. Gebohq's face darkens.

    Gebohq: C'mon guys! Else I'll retract your doughnut privileges.

    They exchange nervous glances at each other, hoping someone else will give in first.

    Gebohq: I'll also revoke shower privileges.

    Al Ciao: That's okay, none of us shower anyway.


    Liberius: Okay, enough with the smilies already.

    Gebohq: Just get in there, you bunch of pansies!

    Liberius: Says the guy who's dragging us with him.

    Gebohq kicks the door open.

    Liberius: Something wrong with using the door handle?

    Gebohq: I didn't want to touch it. You know, just in case?

    Beyond the doorway is a mass amount of foliage. Huge, exotic leaves droop over the door frame and the soil is soft underfoot as the four curious writers venture inside. Al Ciao yells as a huge snake slithers up a tree close to him. Liberius cries out as a man-eating plant snaps at him. Cool Matty screams like a girl when a gigantic spider scurries away through the dead leaves on the ground. Gebohq faints when a rabbit hops by.

    Britt the Writer: Halt! Who goes there!?

    Al Ciao: Uh, friend!

    Britt swings down from the jungle canopy via a long vine. He's wearing stereotypical British-African hunter garb, complete with pith helmet and a rifle aimed at his fellow writers.

    Britt: Who're you lot?

    Al Ciao: Writers of the NeS. Remember? You are too? You wrote Soriel and that sword that wanted to have sex with all of the women characters.

    Cool Matty: You know, when you say it like that I'm not sure we want him back...

    Al Ciao: Gebohq will take anything we can get.

    Al Ciao nudges the unconscious Gebohq with the toe of his boot to no avail. Cool Matty gives him a swift kick which brought their lead writer back. Liberius gave him a kick too. Al Ciao and Cool Matty stare at Liberius.

    Liberius: It was for the smell.

    Al Ciao and Cool Matty: ...

    Liberius: Pirates of the Caribbean? No?

    Gebohq struggles to his feet and begins to plead with Britt despite his own physical pain, desperation pushing him through his own usual nonchalance.

    Gebohq: Britt, we need you back!

    Cool Matty: I think need is a bit strong.

    Liberius: Melodramatic.

    Britt: I can't. I'm in China.

    Britt stares wide-eyed off into the distance. Britt's nervous twitching but everyone on edge and they started to look about as nervously as Britt already was.

    Gebohq: You're in the Writers' Offices.

    Britt: China...

    Gebohq: Are there even jungles in China?

    Britt: No idea...

    Gebohq: We're in a jungle!

    Al Ciao: A jungle in your office, I hasten to add.
    Britt: I'm reading.

    Gebohq: Reading what?

    Britt: It.

    Cool Matty: Stephen King?

    Britt: No. The NeS.

    The writers' stare at Britt in stunned silence.

    Liberius: Why!?

    Cool Matty: Are you crazy?

    Britt twitches.

    Cool Matty: Don't bother answering that...

    Britt pulls out an old-looking tome and opens the book on a random page. The very paper glows brightly of golden light. Gebohq leans over to take a look at the page.

    Gebohq: Hey, I remember this page. It's page 18 of NeS Squared. Where the whole Tsolo stuff starts.

    Liberius: Wait. Why is there a tome anyway? I thought we wrote it all on computers?

    Al Ciao: Why is it glowing?

    Cool Matty: And wasn't there some really old storyline where Kirby had pages of the NeS and shattered them everywhere... or something? How is it there?

    Gebohq: Look. None of that matters. Just... hurry up and finish your... expedition in China. Or reading the NeS. Or whatever the Hell is going on in here.

    Liberius: Yeah and you can get to work cleaning the offices, you lout!

    Everyone stares at Liberius with scorn. Even Britt seems to gather himself for the moment.

    Gebohq: Nice try.

    Liberius: Bugger.

    The current writers all leave the jungle-office and stand in the corridor for a moment in silent contemplation. Inside there is an almighty glow as Britt resumes his reading.

    Al Ciao: Does anyone remember where we left Soriel and Fred the Sword in the story?

    Cool Matty: I don't think I even remember them being in it...
    Last edited by Gebohq; 03-17-2012 at 01:49 PM.

  2. #1322
    Virgin Fleet Admiral
    Our heroes are milling about in the front yard of Ye Olde Hauntede House Ofe Heroese.

    Young: Mother, why are you using Ye Olde Butcherede Englishe?

    I am not your mother. I am the Narrator.

    Geb: Actually, the distinction between narrator and story has been blurred many times in the NeS.

    I am not even female!

    All Heroes: ...

    Al Ciao: Really?

    The Last True Evil: I could have sworn you were.

    Amal: Yeah, with that squeaky, high-pitched voice--

    All right! Enough! Jeez, you let James Earl Jones have a brief stint at my job, and then you sound like a four year old girl next to him.

    Losien: That is a tough act to follow.

    Thank you. At last some sympathy.

    Losien: ...maybe we should hire JEJ back?

    OKAY, moving on!

    Rachel: Okay, so where exactly is Memory Lane? Is it really a physical place, or just an anthropomorphic projection of our subconscious minds that travel through astrally?

    Everyone stares blankly at her. Well, except for Master Thand, who peers through is spectacles with a knowing smile of half-amusement. Rachel sighs.

    Rachel: How do we get to Memory Lane?

    Al Ciao: Um.... we get out our photo album?

    Losien: Yes! TLTE, honey, this would be a great opportunity to take pictures for a family album!

    TLTE: I like your style, Los m'love!

    They embrace and kiss. This is nothing like the total animalistic makeout sessions Al and Mia had, as theirs is a gentler, purer, truer, but no less passionate love.

    Al: Jeez, guys, get a room!

    Geb arches an eyebrow at him.

    Geb: You and Mia didn't seem to mind doing the nasty in plain view of everyone.

    With a sweep of an arm, Al indicates his bullet-ridden ectoplasmic form.

    Al: Yeah, and look at how well that turned out. Besides, exhibitionism is an art form!

    With a gentle question, Young brings them back on point.

    Young: Rachel, as a Protector of the Plotfractal, shouldn't you already know how to reach Memory Lane?

    Rachel: Well, yes, but it's my job to promote conflict. Attempting to locate and access Memory Lane is a conflict of sorts - man vs ignorance, say - therefore I am pretending lack of knowledge.

    Amal: You do realize that Uncle Thand here knows everything.

    Rachel looks askance at Master Thand, the bells on her jester's cap jiggling and trilling gently.

    Rachel: In his Obi-wan role, he is more about letting the heroes--

    Al: Hello, ruler of hell here.

    Rachel: --the protagonists discover things on their own.

    TLTE: I am no expert on American movies, but didn't this O-B-1 get struck down by his archenemy?

    Geb: Yup.

    TLTE grins at Master Thand with malignant triumph, but Thand shows no reaction.

    Young: Ah, Rachel, but I can simply ask my mother.

    Rachel: [grumble]Spoilsport.[/grumble]

    Thand: Rachel, my dear, the relationship between mother and daughter is oft rife with conflict.

    Rachel brightens.

    Rachel: Ask away, Young!

    Young cocks her head, as if listening. Abruptly she nods in understanding.

    Young: Back inside the house everyone, there is a device we must use.

    The OOH-SHINY-EPIC-LAWLZ element in Al simmers to the surface.

    Al: Ooooh, a device! Must be some ancient artifact!

    Young: It *is* quite old.

    Al: Some forgotten technology not used in countless ages!

    Young: It's not been active for quite a while, yes.

    Al: Perhaps it has some amazing ability, such as the unlimited ability to conjure whatsoever we desire!

    The other heroes' ears have pricked up with interest at this point.

    Young: Oh, yes, anything, you can visualize.

    Losien: We have something like *that* laying around the house???

    Geb: Ooh, first thing I want is a dozen doughnuts! No, wait, a shower with a hot chick! No, wait, to be Captain Kirk! No, wait, I've got it! -- perhaps an eclair.

    TLTE: I've already got everything I want right here.

    There is a heartwarming family moment full of d'awwwwwwws as Losien, TLTE, and Amal gather in a group hug.

    Young: This way, please.

    The heroes eagerly follow Young into the house. At her direction, they pile onto the couches and loveseats and other sundry furniture in the common area, while Young rummages through a closet. All the various heroes - other than our happy family - are staring vapidly at nothing, drooling over their private fantasies about to come true. Soon, Young recovers a somewhat bulky object - which she hefts by bracing it against her swollen tummy - covered in a dusty white cloth. All eyes fix on it as she brings it to the center of the room. Only Amal has the presence of mind to jump up and help her, for which she nods gratefully at him. Geb and Al - having gentlemanly souls at heart - shift a little guiltily.

    Young dramatically pulls away the cloth--

    Al: An overhead projector?!?!?!

    Geb: You have got to be kidding me.

    Rachel has cracked up.

    Rachel: She didn't lie, you idiots!

    Master Thand: Quite correct, Miss Pi. It is indeed old, technology that is rarely used in this day and age, and can project whatever you can draw on it.

    Geb and Al cross their arms and hunch down in their seats, sulking.

    Young: Could someone get me the NeS photo album?

    Rachel: Sure, let me go grab it.

    Geb: We have an NeS photo album?

    Losien: Of course! I've been taking pictures since page 19 of the original NeS! Maybe was taking pictures since day one! All the various heroines - plus Janitor Bob - pitched in during their stints on the team.

    Rachel: Got it!

    Young: Thank you, Rachel.

    Wobbling a bit, Young pulls out a random photo and places it on the overhead projector.

    Young: And now, to travel into the memories, we need the Holy Hand Remote.

    Rachel: The what now?

    TLTE: Oh, those were good times.

    Al: My first appearance in the story too!

    Geb: Didn't we say enough with the smilies?

    Amal: Where is this Holy Hand Remote?

    Rachel: Antioch, maybe?

    She cracks up, but everyone else rolls their eyes.

    Al: Geez, I thought lame jokes were my province.

    Master Thand: This is the Neverending Story, Master Ciao. Lame jokes are everyone's prerogative.

    Losien: Last I remember, Krig was using it as a chew toy, right?

    Geb: Aw, heck, the only way we'll get him to part with it is to offer him something even shinier...

    A quick phone call and well-bossed penny later, the HHR is theirs. Young flips on the overhead projector and turns the power button on the remote. The world falls away from them, and they enter into the mists of memory...

    Geb: Nice alliteration.

    Thanks. James Earl Jones can kiss my--

    Young: Language.

    --maiden aunt Petunia.

  3. #1323
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    Lazy Writers...

    Once again, back in the Writers' Realm...

    Already? We only had one real post!

    Gebohq the Writer: Quiet you!

    Al Ciao the Writer: Yeah. Stupid woman narrator.

    We just had this conversation-!

    Al Ciao: No, you spoke with my character. Not me. Not the writer.

    Sounds like you know the conversation, so why are-

    Al Ciao: Shaddap!

    You can't tell me to shut up!

    Gebohq: He didn't tell you to shut up...

    Al Ciao: I told you to shaddap!

    Now you're just being petty. And childish.

    Gebohq: I, however, told you to be quiet. So quiet.

    Now you're both bullying me. This is bullying! I can sue you! I'll use my narrator powers on you!

    Gebohq: That trick might work on the characters but not the writers, mate.

    Al Ciao: As an example...


    The narrator shuts up.

    Cool Matty the Writer: Hey guys. What're you writing?

    Al Ciao: Memory Lane.

    Cool Matty: Oh really? Why?


    Al Ciao: Stupid narrator...

    The narrator is allowed to narrate again.

    Stifling several tears the narrator presses on...

    Gebohq the Writer raises a tome. A tome with glowing pages.

    Cool Matty: Isn't that the NeS book that Britt the Writer was reading?

    Gebohq: That's right. We decided not to put such a useful thing go to waste.

    Cool Matty: How'd you get it off Britt?

    Al Ciao: His cold, dead hands.

    Cool Matty: ...

    Gebohq: He agreed to come out of his office.

    Al Ciao: His closet.

    Gebohq: Office-closet.

    Cool Matty: Jungle...

    Gebohq: Office-closet-jungle.

    Cool Matty: So where is he now?

    Gebohq: I think he's gone to play that 'See you Later Alligator' song at his office-closet-jungle-room.

    Al Ciao: I think he's actually gone to play it at a real alligator.

    Gebohq: Or crocodile.

    Al Ciao: Probably both.

    Cool Matty: So anyway. This memory lane thingy. I know you have this tome now, but why do this story arc?

    Gebohq: Well it should be a good-

    Al Ciao: We're lazy...

    Gebohq: - point for new Writers to-

    Al Ciao: So we can just rehash old rubbish from earlier in the NeS...

    Gebohq: - jump on-board...

    Al Ciao: Who needs creativity when there's plenty of stuff we can recap.

    Cool Matty: Like one of those episodes in an anime show right towards the end where they just play back old footage...

    Al Ciao: Exactly.

    Gebohq: ...

    Al Ciao: Plus, we can just copy-paste a load of old crap in. Don't even have to write anything new at all!

    Gebohq: That isn't what I had in mind...


    Back in the NeS...

    Unexpectedly, and against even Master Thand's expectations, the room is suddenly engulfed in a bright white light. The sound of the old projector (and yes it's an old projector. Complete with flickering and burns) chugged on and on, but grew quieter and quieter until even that had gone. The current cast of characters found themselves standing in nothingness. Unless you can count 'white' as something. I guess it is something but...

    Writers: SHUT UP!

    How rude...

    Gebohq: Are we in the l33t?

    Arkng Thand: No.

    Gebohq: Then where?

    Suddenly the heroes all feel as though they have been firmly slapped across the face. All reel from the pain but upon opening their eyes they find that they are now out of the white void and in...

    The Last True Evil: Borscht! Not the Arena again! We always end up in this God-forsaken place.

    Arkng Thand: I'd like to correct you there, my boy-

    TLTE: I thought you might.

    Thand paused and gave TLTE the teacher's glare at a poorly behaved student.

    Arkng Thand: The Arena is hardly god-forsaken. Afterall, none other than Ares, the God of War, is the ruler of this particular location.

    TLTE: That sounded suspiciously like exposition.

    Arkng Thand: Well, we are travelling down Memory Lane, are we not? Explanation and discussion is in due order. As for why the Heroes of the NeS often find themselves drawn here is due to the story's heritage. Look...

    A couple of figures barge past the group. One is clearly Gebohq and the other is Ares. Gebohq appears to be much fitter than his current self and far braver than anyone would have remembered.

    Losien: We were meant to use the photos! Who's been at the projector with crayons?

    They all look at Gebohq.

    Gebohq: Why is it always me?

    Al Ciao: Good question.

    They all glare at him.

    Gebohq gives up the crayons.

    TLTE: Okay, so we're actually in the old Arena watching Gebohq and Ares battle it out?

    Arkng Thand: That's right. Way back at the earliest stages of the NeS. This is where it all began. Sort of.

    TLTE: Sort of?

    Arkng Thand: Well there was something earlier but -

    Al Ciao: -But no one cares?

    Gebohq: Yeah, they only care about the stuff where I become the main character!

    Rachel: Back in the day, eh? Shame you're not the main character anymore, isn't it?


    Al Ciao: Seriously dude. The smilies need to stop.

    Gebohq: Did you, of all people, just say dude?

    Al Ciao: Just taking it for a test drive. Testing the waters. Experimenting with the lingo.

    Gebohq: Please be quiet now.

    Al Ciao: Okay...

    TLTE: So we're in the Arena?

    Arkng Thand: Yes... and no.

    TLTE: ...

    Losien: It's like 'A Christmas Carol' right?

    Arkng Thand: I suppose that makes sense. We will, indeed, see the past again. We will watch it play out.

    Gebohq: Well that will be boring...

    Arkng Thand: I'm sure we'll get the abridged version.

    Gebohq: Huh!?

    Losien: He means the condensed version.

    Gebohq: Huh!?

    Rachel: The idiot's guide.

    Rachel glared at Gebohq.

    Gebohq: Ooooooooh.

    Amal: Does Gebohq seem more dense than usual?

    Losien: He goes through phases for comic effect.

    Gebohq: Huh!?

    Galvatron, the purple robot-transformer, zoomed past them in pursuit of Gebohq and Ares. He arms extended from his torso to reach out in a hard-hitting punch that smacked the unfortunate Ares out of the sky. The God of War landed on the Arena sand in a bedraggled lump. Past Gebohq planted his foot atop of the fallen god and celebrated his combined victory with a manly pose of triumph.

    Al Ciao: Dude, give me those blasted crayons!

    Gebohq: MINE!!!

    Arkng Thand: Actually I think the past will be somewhat distorted merely by our presence. Afterall it's Memory Lane, things are as we remember them and memory is always subjective.

    Al Ciao: Or plain wrong in this case.

    Losien: Well done brother!!!

    Losien cheered at the Past Gebohq.

    Al Ciao: That's not even your real brother!

    Arkng Thand: And I doubt we'll be able to interact with the past. It's just a projection.

    But then Past Gebohq turned to directly face Losien. Everyone's jaws dropped.

    Al Ciao: Whaaaaaaaaaaaat?

    In the Writers' Realm...

    Al Ciao the Writer: Dude, Britt completely changed what I wanted to do.

    Gebohq the Writer: Will you stop with the dude?

    Al Ciao: I'm just playing with it. Seeing how it feels on the tongue. Taking it for a spin.

    Gebohq: I think someone will forcibly detach your tongue if you carry on...

    Al Ciao: Uh...

    Gebohq: Thank you.

    Al Ciao: No no. Geb.

    Al Ciao pointed behind Gebohq with a look of concern and fear. Gebohq could feel the presence of someone. Something exuding a deep, dark rage. Slowly he turned his head to face-

    Britt the Writer: You edited my post!

    Gebohq: I just had to edit in a bit of background and summary info for new writers...

    Britt: You edited my post!!

    Al Ciao: Whoa... dude.

    Gebohq: Urm...

    Al Ciao: All those years in his office-closet-jungle-room-thing has made him crazy! He's got some kind of jungle fever!

    Britt, still dressed in his British-African colonial hunter's outfit, dove at Gebohq and the pair entered a dust cloud of combat!

    Liberius Vir the Writer: Hey Al, what's going on?

    Al Ciao: Britt and Gebohq are duking it out.

    Liberius Vir: Wow! I'll tell CM to get the popcorn on the go! Al, set up three chairs! My money's on Britt, all that jungle madness has got to count for something.

    Al Ciao: Yeah but Geb bites...
    Last edited by TheBritt; 03-23-2012 at 04:47 AM.

  4. #1324
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    Talking A Christmas Carol

    Writers' Domain

    The current writers are gathered around a desk, four upon one side and one upon the other. Gebohq the Writer sits in the 'Master Chair', a black leather affair with a high back and elegant dark wood arms. He leans upon the large, oak desk in front of him and steeples his fingers.

    Al Ciao the Writer grabs the lamp and repositions it to glare directly at Britt the Writer who squints at the sudden exposure.

    Gebohq the Writer: So Britt. How are you feeling?

    Despite the specific words used there was no hint of kindness or concern in his tone.

    Britt the Writer: I was fine until you dragged me in here.

    Gebohq the Writer: All necessary. Would you consider yourself to now be cured of your jungle-fever?

    Britt the Writer: Um...

    Gebohq the Writer: For every wrong answer you'll get a whack with the NeS tome.

    Britt the Writer: You mean the tome I let you have?

    Gebohq the Writer: The irony didn't escape me. The glow of the NeS adds extra weight, so I suggest you try very hard.

    Britt the Writer: Um... what's the right answer?

    Gebohq the Writer: ...

    Liberius Vir the Writer: It would be "yes".

    Britt the Writer: Then yes. I am cured. Even if I'm lying.

    Gebohq the Writer: Good! Now then. We must discuss your most recent additions to the NeS....

    Gebohq the Writer turns to the latest page of the NeS where the glow of the book is at its strongest, bathing Gebohq the Writer's face in bright yellow.

    Gebohq the Writer: So. You decided to take it upon yourself to take the characters to the beginning of the NeS instead of taking them in reverse order. What do you have to say for yourself?

    Britt the Writer: I didn't know you wanted it in reverse order? Plus I think it would be easier for readers to understand what's going on in forward motion. I would have no idea who characters were or why they were doing things without some previous hint about their introduction and motives. So forwards seems more logical, right?

    Cool Matty the Writer: Sounds good to me!

    Gebohq the Writer smacks Cool Matty the Writer over the head with the NeS, then he smacks Britt the Writer too.

    Britt and Cool Matty the Writers: Ow...

    Gebohq the Writer: You also had the possibility of interaction with the past events. This ending where Past Gebohq looks at Losien.

    Britt the Writer: Ahh, now that I can easily explain!

    Gebohq the Writer smacks Britt the Writer with the NeS again.

    Gebohq the Writer: If it could easily be explained, we wouldn't be here right now would we?

    Britt the Writer: Okay, okay. Either way, I basically wanted to leave it open so that Writers could take it in whatever direction they wanted to, in case I was wrong about the A Christmas Carol idea. I would also like it to be more... minor interaction. Like they're ghosts or something. That way I could allow myself the possibility of major interaction, ie bring in characters that I'd like to bring back from older stories or maybe suggest a tie-up of some loose ends.

    Gebohq the Writer: Don't you attend the Workshop!?

    Britt the Writer: Uh... there's a workshop?

    Gebohq the Writer proceeds to pummel Britt the Writer into unconsciousness. When he finally awakes again Britt the Writer finds a note blue-tacked to his forehead and reads it; "Fix it - Love Geb."


    The NeS World;

    Past Gebohq continued to stare straight at his future sister for long moment. The current heroes stare back with bated breath until, finally, Past Gebohq turns away from them and begins to chat with Past Galvatron. Galvatron's chest pops open to reveal a snack machine that thoroughly grabs Past Gebohq's attention and he begins to make an order as though he were at a drive-through.

    The Last True Evil: Well that was weird.

    Losien: Gebohq! Brother!!

    Losien takes a small run forward but doesn't venture too far from the group thanks to a sense of attachment to TLTE and respect for Arkng Thand, who she knows would not approve of jumping on her brother's past self. Once again Past Gebohq turns to face her but she can see the look of confusion on his face. He couldn't see her but maybe he could hear her? No. More likely he could sense her calling, he probably had a tingling sensation or a nagging in his mind that someone familiar was calling out to him. The boundary between her visitation and the past world was strong, but not completely impervious.

    Arkng Thand: Perhaps...

    Losien turns to Master Thand with shock and awe.

    Losien: Why are you psychic?

    Arkng Thand: It's not difficult to figure what you were thinking, young Losien. You are a naÔve young hero, Losien. One prone to involving yourself even when you shouldn't.

    Al Ciao: And the narrator just narrated your thoughts.

    Arkng Thand: Either way, I must strongly advise against interfering with anything around us. I doubt that this is time-travel per se, we are not seeing events as perfectly as they were after all, however I think it would make things much too complicated if you go around grabbing and interacting with whoever you happen to see at the time. And certainly it wouldn't be good to try and change events...

    At those words he glanced at the current Gebohq, who appeared to have wandered off into a trance of contemplation. Amal nudges Gebohq as Thand's glance lingers a little too long and Gebohq gives the old man an overly eager grin of acknowledgement.

    However, Past Gebohq begins to approach the group with a puzzled expression on his face, evidently drawn by Losien. Losien felt a surge of pride in both herself and her brother. His affections for her were always strong and Losien could feel good about herself when bathed in them, at least for a short while. Even when separated by time and space Gebohq's senses were still attuned to Losien.

    But suddenly a whole gathering of past characters are in the Arena, many emerging from the stands. Most important amongst them is DarkSide, the malevolent soul-consuming entity that has plagued the NeS since its beginnings. He begins to attack Gebohq and Galvatron, whilst an assortment of other characters get themselves intertwined into the action; especially when a horde of zombies invades the Arena. Miss Fire, a kind of G.I. Jane, leaps down into a crowd of zombies, while her brother (a fact known to very few), Enchilada Man, tries to sell them some tacos.

    Master Thand's attention, in particular, was drawn to the brief presence of a man named Twin Suns. A person Thand knew would become an important factor in the distant, future pages of the NeS.

    TLTE: Couldn't we just run up and put an end to DarkSide now? Save us a lot of trouble with KnowSoul...

    Arkng Thand: Your methods are very raw and inelegant, TLTE...

    TLTE: Thank you...

    Arkng Thand: Very typical of an anti-hero...

    TLTE: Of course!

    Arkng Thand: Or a future villain...

    TLTE scowls at the old man.

    TLTE: Or redeemed former villain, Thand.

    Arkng Thand: Perhaps. Regardless, as I said a moment ago, this isn't strictly the past. This is a representation of it. Destroying DarkSide here, even if you could, would not alter things in our reality.

    Gebohq: Even if you could kill him in the past, that would probably mess up time so much we wouldn't even recognise the NeS.

    Arkng Thand: Excellent, Gebohq. It is that sense of compassion and concern that makes you a fine hero.

    Al Ciao: I'm pretty sure it's laziness that gives him that attitude, to be honest.

    Losien: But we can't just stand by and watch my brother get hurt by DarkSide!

    Gebohq: Uh... I'm right here. Not being hurt.

    Rachel: We already know how this all pans out, Losien. Gebohq is fine now, so he will be fine here. I think. Probably.

    Gebohq: ...

    Rachel: ... unfortunately.

    Gebohq: Harsh, Rachel. Just... harsh.

    Rachel cast a broad grin at Gebohq, alluding to her usual April Fool's demeanour, but considering the history between them, Gebohq couldn't help but feel there was still some resentment towards him for his rejection of her. He was the one that felt like a fool.

    TLTE: So, what do we do next? How do we move on?

    Arkng Thand: I imagine things will simply progress as they like...

    As if on cue the world around them dissolves into whiteness again and they feel a lurch, as though they were riding a fast conveyor belt.

    Gebohq: I really hope this isn't going to take us to every single page. Especially in these early story arcs.

    Rachel: There were story arcs back then? I thought it was just random mush.

    TLTE: It will probably be a trip through important events. Significant moments to the development of the NeS and its characters.

    Arkng Thand: I couldn't have put it better myself.

    TLTE: I was growing bored of hearing your constant droning.


    Writers' Realm;

    Britt the Writer: Done and done.

    He then notices something glued to his monitor. A note.

    "Dear Britt the Writer.

    I heard you were moving to China. Good luck in the future.


    You Commie traitor!

    - Love, TLTE the Writer."

    The note then explodes.
    Last edited by Gebohq; 03-24-2012 at 11:32 AM. Reason: just adding a link to the workshop as evil editor :D

  5. #1325
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    April Fools' Day

    Arkng Thand held out his wrist and displayed a gold watch strapped to his arm that seemed to lurk somewhere between a modern wristwatch and an old fog watch in typical steam-punk fashion. He waited for several seconds until - ding!

    Arkng Thand: It is now a new day.

    Losien: Already? I suppose being stuck in Memory Lane doesn't help our circadian rhythm much?

    Arkng Thand: No it doesn't. But that aside...

    Master Thand looked towards Rachel Pi.

    Arkng Thand: It is time.

    Rachel sighed and tugged the jester hat from her head. She looked down at the floor - although it was only designated a floor as they were standing on it, otherwise it was as white and bright as the walls and ceiling that may or may not exist in this trans-dimensional state.

    Losien: What're you doing, Rachel?

    Rachel gave a little shrug and mumbled something.

    Losien: What did you say?

    Rachel mumbled again.

    Losien: Eh??

    Rachel: April Fools!

    Rachel shouted loudly at everyone but rather than the usual groans or cheers the heroes were all silent and confused. They all glanced at each other, wondering if Rachel had somehow managed to paint moustaches and monocles on everyone without them realising. But no.

    Arkng Thand: Allow me to elaborate.

    TLTE: As usual...

    Arkng Thand: Rachel's status as the April Fools' Day avatar has, I'm entertained to say, been one huge April Fools' joke I played on all of you. I should say we played on all of you, though I admit to being the orchestrator.

    Losien: Wait... what!?

    Gebohq: You mean, you're not April Fools', Rachel?

    Rachel meekly shook her head.

    Losien: All this time...

    Al Ciao: All those bad jokes...

    Amal: But what about her powers?

    Arkng Thand: So long as the NeS believed that Rachel was the April Fools' Day avatar then... she was. Now we've unmasked the, oh so hilarious, plot she can return to normal. Probably.

    Everyone: ...

    TLTE: You know your elaborate joke nearly destroyed the NeS when she was with Gebohq, right? Unless your whole thing was to cover your intentions of wiping out the NeS with this joke; once again ensuring that you wouldn't be seen as the villain by the storyline...

    Arkng Thand:

    TLTE: Wait.... is this your April Fools' joke!? Telling us she's not April Fools'?

    Arkng Thand:


    Gebohq: Wait... so is this a joke... or not? Or .... was it a joke? Or... I'm totally confused.

    TLTE: So when an all-knowing son-of-an-American plays a prank, this is what we get? A confusing mystery that's only revealed after, what, a year? Two years? However many years it's been!?

    Arkng Thand:

    Al Ciao: Your use of smilies is not funny in the least...

    Arkng Thand:


    (NSP: I'm posting this up now because tomorrow I'm working ((yes I'm teaching on a Sunday. The horror...)) and I'm probably going to be very confused by the time-zones.)

  6. #1326
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    The Damned

    Back in the United Kingdom of Great Britain, once home to the NeS Heroes, we find a quiet and tranquil scene. The sky is clouded over with the possibility of a light shower and the pedestrians are strolling the streets with their coats and umbrellas in preparation. Hawthorne Road, named after some long forgotten and underappreciated hero, was small and unsuspecting with just a few terraced houses and, on the end, a little corner shop. The Corner Shop of the Damned.

    Inside the small shop are a couple of refrigerators stocked with Coca-Cola, Pepsi, Sprite and an assortment of other pop drinks. On the shelves are the necessities; bread, milk, eggs. At the counter are stacks of chocolate and sweets, the biggest sellers in such a small shop thanks to the school a few streets away. Behind the counter, treating herself to a Mars Bar she believes she deserves after standing around in the shop for so many hours, is a dark-haired white woman. Sheís wearing a union flag T-shirt, a denim jacket and a worn pair of dark-blue jeans; all very ĎCool Britanniaí in fashionable taste across the globe.

    An old woman wandered into the shop and picked up a loaf of bread and a small carton of milk.

    Old Woman: Hello Maeve dear. How are you today?

    Maeve: Bored.

    Old Woman: Well, youíre young and stuck in a shop. Iím sure Iíd be going batty if I were cooped up in here all day too.

    Maeve: Granny Cal, you are bonkers. You think thereís another you in your head.

    Granny Cal: Doesnít mean Iím crazy if itís true!

    Maeve: Yeah... okay. Just call it a quid, Granny.

    Granny Cal handed over the single British pound with a pleased smirk. Getting money knocked off always gave her a great sense of satisfaction, even if it was only forty pence. It was the principal of the thing. Maeve put Granny Calís shopping into a small, white bag and handed it over to the old woman.

    Granny Cal: Bye dear. Oh, watch out for those Forgotten Army types. I saw them marching around the main road earlier. You know how they get. They came at me the other day, tried to convince me I was some powerful heroic warrior or something. How would Mr Tiddles feel about that, eh?

    Maeve: Mr Tiddles is your cat, right?

    Granny Cal: No! Heís my boyfriend!

    Granny Cal gave Maeve a wicked wink and tottered out of the shop as only an old biddy can. Maeve shudders and clamps her eyes shut against the nasty mental image that had sprung into her mind. She needed a drink but such a small shop didnít bother to stock that kind of stuff, which was incidentally fairly lucky else Maeve would have lost her job long ago.

    The Forgotten Army was a cult-like force that regularly patrolled streets of the U.K. and other European countries to fend off enemies of the people; particularly demons. Once upon a time demons had infested Europe and only The Forgotten Army was there to stand up and fight the evil spawn and protect the people. Since that time The Forgotten were accepted and welcomed into the lives of British citizens, but many still regarded them as a bunch of crazy people looking for something to do with their lives.

    Maeve opens her eyes again.

    Maeve: EEP!!

    Stranger: Wrong person.

    Maeve stares, completely thrown by the strangerís response. Her original intentions had been to scream a little more until the stranger tried to settle her down and ask for a loaf of bread or tried to attack her and steal the money from the till, at which point she would have run off still screaming. Instead she was left feeling relatively unfulfilled in her goals for the conversation. She looks the man over, acknowledging that he was quite young. His hair was messy, looking like he might have been cutting it haphazardly himself, and brown. He is wearing casual clothing but has taken something akin to a table cloth and tied it around his neck like a red cape. She would have dismissed the guy as another loony-bin, possibly this ďMr TiddlesĒ, but the guy had a sword laid on the counter before her and it looks very, very sharp.

    Maeve struggles to find words. How was one supposed to respond to a sword-wielding man? She decides his words were just nonsense from an escaped mental-case but there was something vaguely familiar in there. Something that suggested she understood exactly what he meant.

    Maeve: Wait... am I the one going insane!?

    Stranger: I hope not.

    Maeve: But... what if youíre not real? And that voice I keep hearing... like itís narrating everything I do!

    You mean me, donít you?

    Maeve: Yes! No wait. I shouldnít reply to you. Youíre not crazy if you talk to yourself, only if you talk back... to yourself. Now Iím confused.

    You and the rest of us.

    Maeve: Maybe itís infectious? Did I catch it from Granny Cal? That old sodís always been off her head.

    Stranger: Okay, okay. Now Iím getting fed up. Letís do this quickly.

    Maeve: Do... what... quickly?

    Stranger: My name is...

    Ah, I see you learnt the dramatic pause? Well done.

    Stranger: ...Quiet you. I am Soriel!


    Soriel: What did I just say? Stop interrupting!

    Maeve: Okay. Soriel. What do you want?

    Soriel: You.

    Maeveís dread and panic that had been welling up within her suddenly burst into a cold sensation in her stomach. She really needed that drink.

    Soriel: Uh. Okay yeah, that did sound wrong now that I think about it.

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Sounded just right to me!

    Soriel: Shut it, Blade!

    Maeve: Are you... talking to your sword?

    Soriel: Yes. And yes I know you canít hear him but he really does talk.

    Maeve: Itís a he?

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Youíd better believe it, baby!

    Maeve: I am so lost. I have no idea whatís going on. I really must have lost my marbles. I havenít even been drinking today. Except for that bit of whiskey I downed when I woke up. But itís medicinal. Calms my nerves.

    Soriel: ...Riiiiiiiiiiight. Okay. Whatever. So Iím Soriel. Iím part of The Forgotten Army and-

    Maeve: Ah, that explains it. I knew you lot went through some weirdo rituals or something. Youíre probably on LSD arenít you?

    Soriel: Uh, no. We are Forgotten Characters.

    Maeve: Characters?

    Soriel: Thatís right. We are characters of the Never-ending Story who were once major roles in the story but were forgotten by our Writers and discarded to the annuls of time.

    Maeve: L... S... D... you probably ate it in whatever ice-cream they got you to eat when you joined up.

    Soriel: Iím being serious here. You were once a character too!

    Maeve: I was?

    Soriel: You were forgotten around about the time the NeS transferred from its original course to become the NeS Squared.

    Maeve: What?

    Soriel: Okay thatís really complicated and Iím not here to give you a history lesson on everything in the NeS. Just trust me. The story went from like... the First Series. Season One. To the Second Series. Season Two. Get it? Just like a TV show.

    Maeve: Right...

    Soriel: But the Forgotten Army was formed to bring us all together. Now we are never forgotten so long as The Forgotten exist.

    Maeve: Beautiful sentiment.

    Soriel: Thatís what everyone tells me. I just take it as an opportunity to kill things.

    Maeve: ...

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Smooth...

    Soriel: Silence Blade!

    Mave: ... ... ...

    Soriel: So anyway. Any questions so far?

    Maeve: Where do I fit into this? And if I were once a character, why donít I remember?

    Soriel: You work for The Convenience Store of the Damned.

    Maeve: You mean The Corner Shop of the Damned?

    Soriel: Yes. U.K. name for it I suppose. Just be glad youíre not in the Supermarkets of the Damned.

    Maeve: I am already, thatís where they wanted to send me originally. Imagine it-

    Soriel: Iíd rather not. Did you never question the name of your workplace?

    Maeve: No? I work in a corner shop, why wouldnít it be called The Corner Shop?

    Soriel: Not that part! The Damned!

    Maeve: I guess...

    Soriel: You are damned because you have been forgotten, Maeve. The Damned Corporation takes stray forgotten characters and puts them to work, indoctrinating you so that you cannot remember you past life. Itís to supposedly spare you the pain of remembering.

    There is a light tinkle of the shop bell as the door opens and a new figure steps into The Corner Shop of the Damned.

    Mr Stafford: Thatís considered a blessing by many.

    Maeve: The boss! Bollocks! Look, Iím really sorry Mr Stafford. This geezer just wandered in here and started yammering on about all kinds of rubbish. I have no idea what heís been talking about. Mostly. But he does raise a good question about the name of this place.

    Mr Stafford: No worries, Maeve. I understand completely. It is always jarring to hear about your past life and the subsequent struggle with newfound memories as they return to you is always uncomfortable for many former employees. But I am here to relieve all of that and return you to work. I assure you, itís a very bleak world out there and you are very likely to, once again, be forgotten by the Writers.

    Maeve: So... itís all true? Iím a character in this NeS?

    Mr Stafford: Ah. Sounds like this should be an easy one. As for you, Soriel, I suggest you leave. You already rejected my proposal once before. You get back to your little Boyís Brigade and play soldiers...

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: I assure you, fella, there are plenty of chicks there too.

    Soriel winced, refraining from shouting at his sword and ruining his confrontation with Mr Stafford. The man was the CEO of The Damned Corporation and operated on some incredible level of the story that allowed him to hop through Plot-Holes to any situation that required his attention across the NeS. The Damned Corporation seemed to have an endless supply of Forgotten Characters and the shops and stores and supermarkets of the Damned were prime recruitment grounds for the Forgotten Army. Many characters wanted to be remembered, brought back, even if that meant as a collective and never by name. Soriel had been tasked with recruiting Maeve. Some had suggested that her role in the story was important once, a third wheel or mediator in some great love story of central characters. And she would be remembered once again. Remembered through the story arc.

    Maeve: Wait, wait, wait. Iíve just thought. We have a Narrator.

    Soriel: I thought I already explained this?

    Maeve: No no. I mean... the Narrator wouldnít narrate everything would he?

    Soriel: Of course he does.

    She meant everything, Soriel. Like, some random guy somewhere scratches he arse. And I assure you that I donít stoop to such low-paying narration. I am a professional. I narrate only for the main storylines.

    Soriel: Oh...

    Mr Stafford: Damn it.

    Maeve, suddenly realising that the Writers were with her, experiences a sudden wave of memories from her life, her battles with the NeS Heroes, the war against the Ever-ending Plot, the central love story of Gebohq and MaybeChild that the Narrator had mentioned earlier. She remembered the alcohol and the drunken times with other NeS Heroes. Heroes that now may, or may not, be forgotten too.

    Soriel quickly sheathed Fred, who made a muffle protest, and held out his hand to Maeve. Before Mr Stafford could say a single word to sway Maeveís mind, she slaps her own hand into Sorielís and they dash out of the door with another gentle tingle of the little corner shop bell.

    Maeve: Where are we going?

    Soriel: Does it mattered? Weíve been Remembered, Maeve! We can go anywhere!

    ((NSP: No idea what Maeve looks like or anything since she has no profile, so I just winged it. I'm writing stuff outside of the main storyline because I'm not sure where it wants to go next and I figured I could bring in the characters I want to write for too, maybe set things in motion for the following storyline.))

  7. #1327
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    Down at the Public House

    Soriel: You know, when I said we can go anywhere I really didnít have the local pub in mind.

    Maeve: Stop complaining. Iíve been working all day, I need a bloody drink.

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Yeah, stop complaining dude! Sheíll get wasted and then we can take full advantage!

    Soriel: Silence Blade!

    Maeve: You named your sword Silence?

    Soriel: If I had, it would have been ironic.

    Maeve: Uh... if you say so.

    The two recently Remembered characters approach the bar of the small pub Maeve had taken them to. Itís fairly quiet at this time of the day, though the bar tender didnít seem at all surprised to see Maeve enter.

    Red: Hullo Maeve. The usual?

    Maeve: Aye.

    Soriel: Uh, donít I know you?

    Red: Maybe? I work in a lot of places, you know?

    Red the barmaid places a pint of Guiness in front of Maeve. Soriel stares at it.

    Soriel: Someone told me that puts hairs on your chest.

    Maeve: I bloody hope so!

    She took a long draught of the brown liquid and followed it with a loud gasp of satisfaction. She then licks the white moustache formed on her top lip.

    Soriel: You British women are kind of scary...

    Maeve: You donít know the half of it, mate. So, what do we do next? Weíre free of The Damned Corporation and I suppose youíre free of the Forgotten Army.

    Soriel: I suppose. But they did let me kill stuff.

    Maeve: Yeah, because who would miss that!?

    Maeveís sarcasm is lost on Soriel who nods energetically. Soriel had enjoyed himself in recent times, slaying ferocious beasts and creatures of darkness on a daily basis was a lifestyle that agreed with him. He considers his options, however. He could return to the army and live out his joyous, murderous life, but he would remain forgotten to all. Alternatively he could hang around Maeve until something interesting popped up. There was, however, the third course.

    Soriel: I was one of the NeS Heroes once. We got to stab a few people if I remember rightly.

    Maeve: Aye, me too... only less stabbing. Do you want to do that then?

    Soriel: I canít think of anything better off the top of my head.

    Maeve: I suppose we can do that then. Back to adventuring, I guess. Or whatever the Hell it is that they actually do. It always struck me as a lot of pissing about, to be honest. Running over here, running over there, cracking a few jokes here, cracking a few jokes there. But then I spent most of the time plastered.

    Soriel: Plastered?

    Maeve: Leathered.

    Soriel: Leathered?

    Maeve: Wankered.

    Soriel: Wankered!?

    Maeve: Sloshed!

    Soriel: ...

    Maeve: DRUNK!

    Soriel: Why didnít you just say that?

    Maeve: Good grief! Where the Hellíre you from anyway?

    Soriel: Juptier.

    Maeve: Uh, you mean that planet that isnít a planet anymore?

    Soriel: Youíre thinking of Pluto. Jupiter was just wiped out and replaced with a second sun.

    Maeve: Oh yeah! I remember something about that happening. I think I was drinking margaritas at the time.

    Soriel: I came to the NeS Heroes to find out who did it. I figured theyíd have been all over it. A big mystery like that, something for a band of heroes to solve, you know? If I ever find out whoís responsible for destroying my home...

    The doors to the pub swing open with a loud, ominous creak and a dark-clad figure walks in. Or rather he stumbles in as heís already very drunk, having started boozing first thing this morning. He staggers over to the bar and growls something at the Red. The barmaid couldnít have understood what he asked for but she pours him a drink anyway, she figures it didnít really matter to him.

    Maeve: Oi, Otter!

    The Otter: Thatís The Oppomurph...

    The Otterís face plants into the bar. Fortunately heíd propped himself onto a bar stool so he manages to doze peacefully, rather than being woken up by a short drop and sudden stop.

    Soriel: I think I recognise him too.

    Maeve: Another Forgotten Hero, Soriel.

    Soriel: Strange that he just happens to wander in here while weíre present.

    The doors open again and in walks another figure. Appearing as nothing special, brown hair, black T-shirt and worn shoes Soriel instantly guessed that he must be very important; almost all of the NeS Heroes were so ordinary-looking that random pedestrians looked extravagant and exotic by comparison.

    Benjamin Mahir: Hey, Frederick.

    The Otter: The Ottumplago...

    Ben: Címon, man. Time to go home. Youíre long past your bedtime...

    Soriel: Itís only midday.

    Ben: He goes to sleep at eleven in the morning, heís been up drinking since six this morning.

    Soriel: Wait, donít I know you too?

    Ben: Uh... oh yeah. Youíre one of the NeS Heroes, right? Back in the day?

    Maeve: Pfft! Back in the day was me, you two are a pair of newbies by comparison.

    The Otter: Maeve... newb... by me....

    Maeve: Cruising for a bruising, Otter.

    There was a screeching of displaced air from outside when suddenly the ceiling caves in, spraying debris and dust in all directions. Soriel wafts dust from his face as he tries to peer through the cloud at the culprit of the sudden calamity that had befell the public house. The silhouette of a woman gradually materialised through the cloud. Seraphim, of the super hero group Hero Force One, stands in all of her scantily-clad glory. From the hole she has made in the ceiling comes a second woman, equally as scantily-clad, by the name of Judge. Seraphim points a finger straight at Benjamin Mahir.

    Seraphim: Weíve been looking for you!

    Ben: Eep!

    Ben proceeds to disappear in a flurry of clothing. However his luck is out as Hero Force One are well aware of his transformative abailities. Judge lunges forward and grabs the rat hiding within the limp clothing of Benjamin Mahir. She hoists him up and glares into his rat-eyes. Seraphim, on the other hand, is now hiding behind a random barstool. She points a finger in the vague direction of Judge and Ben.

    Seraphim: Benjamin Mahir, you are charged with abandoning your post as Company Kid and will receive extreme punishment!

    Ben: Uh... help guys?

    Soriel: Do we have to?

    Maeve: No?

    Soriel: Oh right. Are you sure? If weíre going back to the whole Hero gig, shouldnít we... you know... try rescuing one of our teammates?

    Maeve: For starters, he isnít a teammate. Secondly weíre not heroes just yet. We havenít gone back. Iíve got to finish my pint first.

    The Otter: Pint first!

    The Otter suddenly sat bolt upright but his eyes were still closed and his face wore a bemused smile. One hand is wrapped around his drink as though he could swallow through osmosis. However, he doesnít make any more to help his friend and Ben hadnít expected him to. Ben knows Otterís barely capable of making it from one room to another without self-injury these days.

    The Otter: Oi! I ... umsem...le ... marks.

    And yet before anyone could finish wrestling with their consciences over Benís dilemma...

    Maeve: Uh... who was wrestling with their conscience exactly? I donít think anyone actually voiced a decent argument for the rescuing of the rat.

    Soriel: Did my query count?

    Maeve: It was only an query, itís hardly wrestling.

    Red: I could hit one of your with a pool cue, thatís like wrestling right?

    Maeve: Quiet you. Youíre just an NPC at this point. A cameo at best.

    Red: Harsh man...

    ... Are you lot finished? Can I carry on with what I was going to say now?

    Red: Wait, why do I only get to cameo? What if I wanted to rejoin the NeS Heroes?

    Maeve: Writer doesnít want you for the central cast, I guess.

    Soriel: At least youíre not completely forgotten anymore...


    And on that cue the windows of the pub suddenly shatter in a shower of shards that cascade throughout the room. The heroes all cover themselves against the shrapnel, except for The Otter who simply tumbles from his stool. Having crashed through all of the windows, the last of the Forgotten Army march in through the front door.

    Red: Iím so glad Iím only an employee here, else Iíd kick all yíall asses.

    Maeve: How many times, Red. Youíre in the UK, you need to learn the local dialect. There only asses are donkeys. Itís arse.

    Red: Iíll kick your arse and all, Maeve!

    Twin Suns: If youíve finished your little chat...

    Maeve: Not quite yet.

    Twin Suns: ...

    Maeve: Yeah okay, weíll be quiet.

    Twin Suns: So. Pass me the list.

    Twin Suns holds out his hand and one of his lackeys hands him a scroll. The ďForgotten OneĒ, as Twin Suns is often named, unfolds the parchment and checks his list of names.

    Twin Suns: Okay. The Otter. Weíre here to recruit you. Youíre a very old and very popular character, so Iíve come in person. As expected Benjamin Mahir is with you, so youíll be welcome too. Added, if small, bonus.

    Seraphim: I donít think so! The Company Kid is under our jurisdiction.

    Twin Suns: Hero Force One... practically Forgotten Heroes too. You should have joined my army a long time ago. Weíre the true saviours of this world. We fight the darkness that threatens the Earth.

    Seraphim: So long as the word ďHeroĒ is frequented in this world, then Hero Force One shall exist. So long as the NeS Heroes exist, we will exist as the rival, and far more competent, team. We cannot be forgotten.

    Twin Suns: Iím sure you tell yourself that in the mirror every morning. And, if it isnít my prized general who just turned traitor.

    Soriel: Crap.

    Twin Suns: And your quarry, the Ms Maeve. Such a bountiful haul I have today! Now, come. Youíre all needed in my service to keep the Earth safe. You are all Forgotten, you belong with us. None of you have active writers, your original creators are all gone. Vacated.

    Soriel: Actually I think mine might-

    Twin Suns: Soriel, your case is the worst of all. All of the most famous characters are named after their writers; Gebohq, The Last True Evil, Cool Matty, even Maeve and The Otter here. But you? There is no Soriel the Writer. There is not even an attachment between you and your writer. He clearly sees you as nothing more than an instrument. He hasnít dignified you with any qualities of himself.

    Red: Harsh man.

    Twin Suns: I know you are Forgotten too, Red, but if you keep that up Iíll just leave you behind.

    Red: ... Harsh man!

    Judge: Okay, bugger this.

    Seraphim: Now, Judge.

    The two Hero Force One Heroines, with a burst of speed, dash towards the Forgotten Army and begin a barroom brawl that would be remembered throughout the ages... of this little pub. And only then because Red will insist on telling everyone how harsh it was. The Otter manages to stagger to his feet, having completely missed everything said at him, and stares at the two curved silhouettes laying out a gang on burly, uniformed goons.

    The Otter: Am I in Heaven?

    Maeve: That wouldnít be in my Heaven.

    She then glances around and realises sheís still in the pub and, with Red busy hiding behind the bar, the drinks were currently on the house.

    Maeve: Actually maybe it is!

    Soriel: Well we have the fighting I think would be in my Heaven, only thereís much less blood and gore.

    Maeve: You do freak me out sometimes, you know that?

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Actually maybe itís my Heaven mixed with yours. I mean, I got the chicks, you got the fighting. But all that blood would ruin the view, so it gets cut out.

    Soriel: And why would it get cut out? To Hell with your view!

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: We already know youíre my *****, Sor-sor!

    Soriel: I hate that name.

    Maeve: This would be one of those ďfreaking me outĒ times that I just mentioned.

    Ben: Can we escape now?

    Maeve: We?

    Soriel: Escape?

    Ben: Look, stop messing about. Letís just get moving!

    Maeve: Oi!

    Ben: Please? I donít fancy being Company Kid or a Forgotten Army grunt.

    Maeve: Okay, thatís better. Letís skedaddle.

    With that Soriel, the Master Swordsman with a penchant for blood, carrying Fred, the talking sword with a penchant for women, Maeve, the Brit with a drinking problem, The Otter, another Brit with a drinking problem, and Benjamin Mahir, the man who turns into a rat, all scurry out of the backdoor to the pub and leg it down the street to freedom.

    Red: Damn, I really am just a cameo in this post.

  8. #1328
    Virgin Fleet Admiral
    Meanwhile [NeScount: THERE IS INSUFFICIENT DATA TO ANSWER THE QUESTION], back with our REAL heroes (using the term "hero" loosely, of course)...

    Al: So... we'll be seeing significant moments to the development of the story in general and characters in particular as we journey back through Memory Lane, stepping into photographed memories like dreams?

    TLTE: Duh. We just got through saying that.

    Amal: Uncle Tee Ell Tee Ee, he was doing a recap for the benefit of our readers--

    TLTE: What readers?

    Amal: --who have been sidetracked by cameos of the Forgotten.

    TLTE: Who?

    Amal: Exactly.

    TLTE: Normally, when I get confused, I start shooting, stabbing, and blowing stuff up, but as a reformed villain--

    He shoots a challenging look Master Thand's way.

    TLTE: --instead I'll just snuggle with my beloved.

    Losien: Awwww...

    Geb: *smirking* Speaking of romances...

    The dreamlike haze around them as they are walking is solidifying as they approach another memory. As they ascend the crest of a hill formed from gray nothingness, the memory is suddenly revealed in sharp relief. It is the memory of Mia - Al's pregnant ex-girlfriend - piloting her mech and attempting to flatten the memory of Al into the memory of the pavement of a parking lot outside the Convenience Store of the Damned.

    TLTE: *arching an eyebrow* When were you going to tell me about this, tovarish?

    Al: *glaring at Losien* Why did you snap photos of THIS, for crying out loud?

    Losien: Awwww, lovers' spats are so cute! Especially when you look back on them together and laugh fondly.

    Behind the real Al, the memory of Al is killed by a hail of bullets from Mia's mech.

    Al: Ha. Ha. Ha.

  9. #1329
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    Cool Return to the Hall of Heroes

    Back on the streets of England-

    Al Ciao the Writer: Wait, wait, wait. Didn't I just take us back to the real heroes? The group of Characters who are the centre of the story? The awesome ones? The group with my character in it...

    Britt the Writer: Yeah, well, I had no idea where to go with that group and now that you've taken them to a part of NeS history that I know nothing about, I'm well and truly stumped. So I'll write stuff that I can write...

    Al Ciao the Writer: *grumble grumble grumble*

    So, as I was saying, we go back to the streets of England, to the secondary group of heroes who are desperately trying to worm their way back into the main cast of characters-

    Maeve: Jesus, you make us sound like dead-end losers!

    Not exactly far from the truth. So, specifically, our group has found itself upon the streets of London-

    Benjamin Mahir: Wait, we walked all this way?

    Maeve: Seriously, best not to think about it.

    They wander along the streets until they come to the centre of the city where the British government buildings are located; The Houses of Parliament.

    Maeve: This place seems familiar.

    The Otter: HoH.

    Soriel: hoh? That's a weird sound. You having breathing trouble?

    The Otter: The HoH. Hall of Heroes. The old headquarters for the hero group.

    Maeve: Wasn't that destroyed?

    The Otter: Yes. Since then it made a few random reappearances for... some reason I never understood.

    Soriel: Riiiiiiiiiight. So why're we here?

    Benjamin Mahir: You mean we came here on purpose? I thought we'd just been wandering around all day.

    The Otter: Well, we want to get back to the NeS Heroes right? We're in the UK, so it seemed like the most sensible solution was to look into our old HQ. See if there's anything there that could help us get back to the main group.

    Benjamin Mahir: Wouldn't it have been better to look at that newer HQ? The Haunted House of Heroes?

    Soriel: It was destroyed... by a dragon, I think.

    Benjamin Mahir: Oh right yeah. But wasn't it rebuilt?

    The Otter: Who knows? Maybe. Besides, unless you know a convenient way to hop into the Eighth Dimension...

    Soriel: Whatever the Hell that is...

    The Otter: There should be a few headquarters dotted around the globe actually. I vaguely recall us all making it a new policy for the NeS Heroes back when I sobered up.

    Maeve: Come to think of it, why are you so sober all of a sudden?

    The Otter: As senior member of this outfit, I'm needed for plot exposition.

    Soriel: Riiiiiiiiiiight...

    The Otter: Anyway, let's go through the Houses of Parliament and get into Big Ben.

    Maeve: I don't think we ever went into the Houses of Parliament before?

    The Otter: Yeah but I'm pretty sure the stairs were taken out during the demolition of the HQ...

    Maeve: Or we're being steered by the plot?

    The Otter: Either way, I shall lead us to our new home!

    Maeve: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who the Hell put you in charge?

    The Otter: I'm always in charge. Just nobody ever noticed because Gebohq's pretty face.

    Maeve: Geb had a pretty face?

    The Otter: I was guessing.

    Maeve: I only remember the pretty hair...

    Soriel: I barely remember even that. I think I saw the guy for around two minutes.

    Maeve: Really? Weren't you a main character for a good while?

    Soriel: Yeah but Gebohq was the damsel when I showed up and got on the main adventuring crew. Technically I think Rachel was the main character.

    Maeve: Who the Hell's Rachel?

    Benjamin Mahir: She's the new love interest for Gebohq. Or was until he ditched her.

    Maeve: What happened to MaybeChilde?

    The Otter: You really have been out of it for a while, haven't you? MaybeChilde's my girlfriend now.

    Maeve actually faints from the shock of The Otter's statement. Soriel is forced to carry her on his back, grumbling the entire way - not because he had to carry the unconscious woman, but because his sword consistently demanded Soriel prop her at a better angle for Fred to stroke her legs. The Otter proceeds to lead the conscious men into the Houses of Parliament. Big Ben and the majestic government building were once home to Helebon and his Hell-spawn army during their conquest of the Earth. Strangely it was not the NeS Heroes that freed Great Britain, and Europe, of Helebon's forces. It was the Forgotten Army.

    The tell-tale signs of former demonic occupation still lingers on the old structure, a few blood-stained walls, heads on spikes and decorative arcane summoning smbols upon the floors and ceilings. Very little cleaning seems to have been done since then, no attempt at a restoration, suggesting the British government has moved its own HQ since being reinstated. Yet, there were other things in the corridors of the ancient building...

    Lasers whip around to face the intruders, quickly followed by an onslaught of bullets. The Otter dives behind a random pile of decapitated knights. Benjamin Mahir, as a rat, manages to escape up a support beam. Soriel, with the added emcumberment of Maeve, takes the bullets to his chest. His body ripples and shudders under the horriffic barrage until, finally, he can hold Maeve no longer and they both fall, slow-mo, to the floor. The turrets cycle ends to add to the dramatic tension of the moment and a hot smoke plumes from their barrels.

    The Otter: Hang on. There's no blood. This isn't a U-rated story, is it? God I'm in trouble if it is!

    Voice: No it's not. They were just sponge pellets. Lucky really. Sorry dude! You'll be sore for hours...

    Soriel: Vengeance... will... be... mine...

    The Otter: So... you didn't want to kill us?

    Voice: God no! Why would I want to kill you lot? I specifically put the sponge balls in the turrets because I figured someone from the NeS Heroes would swing by eventually.

    The Otter: Uh, okay. You sound familiar.

    Voice: Idiot. It's MZZT.

    The Otter: Ooooh... why are you telepathic?

    MZZT: Tsk. Otter, it's a radio.

    The Otter: Radio? Where?

    MZZT: It's your match, dude. Remember? The hero watches I made back in the Dining Hall of Heroes? You have one, I have one, so does MaybeChilde and even Soriel I think.

    Despite the fact he hadn't paid any special kind of attention to the watch previously and it has been working just fine, Otter now speaks directly at the high-tech equipment he'd forgotten about long ago.

    The Otter: What're you doing here?

    MZZT: Could ak you the same question. But yeah, I'm just sprucing up the place. Making it functional as a HQ again. Doesn't hurt to have one here in merry old England. Of course, since those summoning portals occassionally throw up demons, I figured it'd be a good idea to put some defences in. You should see my trap-door with the pit of spikes at the bottom.

    The Otter: What if we'd landed on them!?

    MZZT: They're foam spikes...

    Suddenly Benjamin loses his grip on the beam above Otter, Soriel and Maeve and plummets through the air and onto Otter's head, prompting a loud, girly squeal that wakes Maeve up.

    Maeve: Bollocks... I really must have drunk too much vodka to wake up with two blokes and a rat in a Hell-hole like this...

    MZZT: You guys should come on up to the clocktower.

    The Otter: Cool, I guess this means MZZT will get to cameo for more than one post!

  10. #1330
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    Exclamation Coming Together

    The Forgotten Heroes find a gaping hold in the walls between the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben with an oh-so-convenient rubble-ramp up into the loft of the clocktower. They scramble up one-by-one, Soriel easily hopping up as though he were an elf, whilst The Otter practically fell up the rubble.

    At the top of the pile are more turrets, though these ones were decorated with sparkling trinkets and big, yellow smilies. A sign read; "Sorry you're dead; have a nice day."

    Psychological combat. This MZZT must have a sound tactical mind!

    Benjamin Mahir:
    Sure, so long as you're defending a Gamecube or something...

    The Otter: No cause is more noble!

    Benjamin Mahir:
    Great. I always wanted to be the Great Defender of Nintendo consoles...

    Maeve: You'd be the Great Defender of Nothing. You're a bleeding rat!

    Benjamin Mahir:
    A very useful ability! I can get into all kinds of places others couldn't!

    The Otter: ... Like the women's bathroom!!!

    Benjamin Mahir:

    The Otter:
    Can you work a camera with those little rat feet?

    Benjamin Mahir:
    I won't do it.

    The Otter: Aw, c'mon! It's your duty as a fellow heterosexual male! Thing of the joy and happiness you'd bring to so many of your masculine peers! For the good of mankind!

    As MaybeChilde can't be here, I willingly accept her responsibilities.

    Maeve smacks The Otter across the back of his head.

    The Otter: Ow...

    Benjamin Mahir:
    Thanks, Maeve.

    Maeve: Don't thank me yet. You're one step away from a smack too!

    Benjamin Mahir:

    Maeve: You were almost anaccomplice. Your cowardice would have made you an easy push-over for even Otter.

    The Otter:
    The Otter! And I wouldn't force Ben into anything. We're friends. We go way back!

    Maeve: What was that? Hell's frozen over?

    Benjamin Mahir:

    Maeve: Do you really think now would be the best time to annoy me with some smart-arse comment about Canada?

    Benjamin Mahir:

    Soriel: It's like watching an episode of Glee. So much idiotic teen drama and bad jokes.

    The Otter:
    Can you get Glee on Jupiter?

    Soriel: No.

    The Otter: Then how-...

    Soriel: There is no Jupiter! Remember?

    Maeve: I feel the angst levels soaring!

    Benjamin Mahir: Funny, he never used to be this angst-ridden.

    Maeve: Added backstory baggage, I imagine.

    The Otter: Yeah, that whole thing with Jupiter was a riot!

    Maeve, acting as The Otter's external sense of sensitivity and compassion, smacks him across the back of the head again. Unwittingly also probably saving his life...

    Maeve: Wait, I did?

    Stop listening in on my Narration and go see MZZT.

    Maeve: Tsk...

    They step into a wide room filled with technological equipment, including masses of screens displaying CCTV footage from across the entire globe. The four walls show the famous white circles of Big Ben, their hands ticking away. Clearly MZZT had made some improvements on the original machinery.

    Two large, leather boots were poking out from beneath the mass of computers and machines. Maeve nudges one boot with her own. MZZT slides from underneath the equipment and stares up at the Forgotten Heroes through a pair of steam-punk style goggles that whirred as the zoom focused upon them.

    MZZT: About time you got up here. Took you ages that did. What the Hell were you doing?

    Benjamin Mahir: Navigating your rubble staircase.

    Soriel: And they were arguing.

    MZZT: Typical. Still as useless as ever. I'd have thought been forgotten would have hardened you.

    The Otter: Only women will ha-

    MZZT: We'll have none of that.

    Soriel: Alright MZZT. How are things going? Have you been in contact with the other heroes?

    MZZT: Not really. Not for a while at least. My personal project, i.e. setting this place up, has been going well though. I'm actually about to establish a link to the HHH.

    Soriel: hoh was bad enough, but now you sound like you're about to die.

    MZZT: Not huh-huh-huh. Triple H. Haunted House of Heroes. Or Haunted Hall of Heroes. I was never one hundred percent certain which.

    Soriel: Right. I remember that place. It's the main HQ. I do vaguely recall it being burnt down and then rebuilt. I was still around at that time. Right before... I went to that crispy place.

    MZZT: Cris B Chikin Shack.

    The Otter: Dining Hall of Heroes.

    Soriel: Which was then destroyed by villains and pirates...

    MZZT: Over the Gamecube.

    Benjamin Mahir: Not the Gamecube again. It's not even the latest console!

    The Otter: The legend of the Gamecube will never die!

    Soriel: Right. I don't even remember the Gamecube being there. Just the mess. So, about this connection to the HHH...

    MZZT: Yeah. It's like a portal you can just step through.

    Maeve: Wait... do you mean it's like that Thingy?

    Soriel: How descriptive...

    Maeve: No, that's the name of the bloody thing!

    MZZT: Aw, c'mon! Sure it was painful but there was never any blood! Not that much anyway. I'm sure you can handle a nosebleed at your age.

    Benjamin Mahir: Uh, she's British, MZZT.

    MZZT: Oh right. A translation error. Blood is the red stuff in your veins, Maeve. Do you know? Veins.

    Benjamin Mahir: Uh, I didn't mean English is her second language...

    Maeve: It's okay, Ben. I'm enjoying letting him make a fool out of himself.

    Soriel: Can we just get a move on?

    MZZT: Right. Lemme just turn it on.

    MZZT rolls back the sleeves of his white shirt and yanks on an overly large lever, which groans under the sudden stress. There's a low whirring sound then... nothing.

    Maeve: Just great, MZZT. Well done. Another naff machine.

    MZZT: Naff? I think you're looking for a different word. That's not English. It's it a British word, part of your native language?

    Maeve: I was entertained, but now I'm just annoyed...

    Then there's a tremendous explosion of dust which spreads through the room. After a lot of coughing and spluttering the group see that one of the four clockfaces has been replaced with blackness. A void.

    Maeve: Wow... you opened a door to the middle of space!!

    Benjamin Mahir: Why aren't we being sucked into oblivion?

    MZZT: It's kind of blocked off by the gateway.

    Maeve: So it's not the same as the Thingy, instead of intense pain you get shipping off into the cold of space.

    The Otter: If this is space, where are the stars?

    Soriel: There are strange things in space. Things beyond your imagination...

    The Otter: ... Yeah ... you can shut up now.

    MZZT: Otter's right-

    The Otter: The Otter.

    MZZT: It's not space.

    With trepidation MZZT walks forward. The others stand and stare at him with shock and awe. He reaches out with his hand. The void-space ripples and his hand passes through. There's no pain, though it was a little chilly. He reaches further still, until his hand touches something solid. He pushes.


    In the Writer's Realm Al Ciao the Writer is banging on the door to Britt the Writer's "office" door.

    Al Ciao the Writer: Stop! Just stop! You don't know what you're doing!

    Britt the Writer: I refuse!

    Al Ciao the Writer: You can't just do whatever you like! There's plotline to consider- there are main characters already!

    Britt the Writer: You can't stop me, Al! I will post and post and post until I control the NeS Storyline!

    Al Ciao the Writer: I can! I can post too!

    Britt the Writer: ...

    Al Ciao the Writer: After I've finished playing Skyrim... and whatever other games I happen to pick up...

    Britt the Writer: Victory!


    The door opens.

    MZZT: We're just in a wardrobe...

    The room beyond showed darkness pierced by a harsh beam of flickering white light. A projector was splashing photographic images onto the far wall.

    MZZT: I think we're in one of the many basement rooms of the HHH.

    Soriel: Right. And those're the current heroes?

    A group of heroes were all stood around watching the projector with dazed expressions on their faces. Most appear to be laughing or joking about something, except for Al Ciao who wears a grimace of panic.

    Maeve: What's wrong with them? What dastardly spell has some villain cast upon our allies!?

    The Otter: Whoa, calm down! They're just looking at some old pictures of our adventures!

    Maeve: But they're like zombies!

    MZZT: Actually I think Otter-

    The Otter: The Otter.

    MZZT: right. I think they're half-in and half-out of reality though. Probably experiencing the photographs as vivid flashbacks for the sake of the readers.

    Benjamin Mahir: So they're vulnerable right now?

    MZZT: I suppose so...

    Ben suddenly bursts into his full-body-self, despite having absolutely no clothes to conceal himself in. This prompts MZZT to clap his hands over his goggles, Soriel throws himself behind the machines and The Otter to reels in terror, only Maeve seems unconcerned. Her eyes stroll downwards and she raises an eyebrow.

    But then she notices the manic grin upon Ben's face.

    Maeve: That can't be good...

    In full naked-glory Benjamin Mahir dives through the portal, leaving ripples in his wake. He runs straight at the semi-conscious heroes.

    Maeve: Oh bugger... Soriel!

    Soriel, the Jupiter-born swordsman, leaps to action at the sound of his name. Maeve knew she had called upon the right member. Soriel wasn't the strongest character in the narrative, nor especially likeable, but he was some kind of "Frickin' Uber Ninja Type" of character and she had no time to be picky.

    Soriel moves like the wind and rushes through the portal, leaving yet more ripples in the fabric of space-time.

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Oi, Soriel! No way! Don't you dare! I'm not hacking at some naked dude!! I don't slash that way!

    However Benjamin has reached his target and grabs hold of TLTE's unresisting arm. Ben flashes a grin at the approaching Soriel before his form breaks up into little pixels until it quickly settles on a new image. The image of Cool Matty.

    Cool Matty/Benjamin Mahir: TELEPORT!

    Soriel's sword came down at the disappearing TLTE-napper. He feels a brief connection and then nothing but air. Fred swings straight into the floor.

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Thank God for that!

    Soriel: SILENCE BLADE!

    Maeve comes up behind Soriel and stares at the place where the imposter and TLTE had once been.

    Maeve: What just happened? Was Ben a villain? The little rat coward?

    The Otter: Never! That wasn't Ben! Ben's been my mate since high school! I set him on fire once, I should know...

    MZZT: Could be implanted memories though, Otter...

    The Otter stumbles through the portal and into the HHH. MZZT stands in the doorway of the wardrobe like a ghostly figure behind the ripples of space-time.

    The Otter: No! No way! I don't believe it! Me and Ben go way back! He's the key in my backstory for Christ's sake! He explains my whole character!

    Soriel: Regardless of who Ben was... I've seen someone change their face like that before. She... maybe he was the henchman of the main villain of the storyline when Rachel was the protagonist. I tried to kill her...

    Maeve: So why isn't she trying to kill you? And instead she kidnaps TLTE?

    Soriel: I don't think she was central villain material. She's a henchman. The Illusionist. Her powers aren't limit to just her own appearance either.

    They all nervously glance around them, fearing they were about to wake up in a ditch in the middle of nowhere. But nothing happened.

    The Otter: We need to tell Geb what just happened.

    Maeve: Why do we need to tell that pleb anything?

    The Otter: Wow. I really like it when you seethe like that...

    Maeve: I'm not MaybeChilde, Otter. And I just don't see why we need to do anything involving Gebohq.

    Soriel: He's the main character, isn't he?

    MZZT: I heard that role had shifted... She's the main character now...

    MZZT points straight at the standing figure of Losien. Her face was now one of panic, despair and possibly confusion too. All of their faces seemed to have become confused and worried.

    Soriel: We need to get in their and join them. We should be able to solve this one as a group.

    Maeve: We've managed just fine so far. I thought we should start our own group. Like NeS Heroes East or something.

    Soriel: We did so well that we didn't notice one of our members was an imposter, we got shot at by MZZT and succeed in getting one of the main characters kidnapped.

    The Otter: What the Hell are you doing in this story anyway, Soriel? You're like... way too serious and clear-headed for all of this.

    Maeve: He is wearing a silly cape.

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: And has a sexy, though comical, side-kick sword.

    Soriel: That only I can hear...

    Maeve: You can hear your cape too?

    Soriel: No. I was talking to my sword. I have no idea what my cape says.

    The Otter: You know, most people would have said something like "My cape doesn't talk. It's just a cape."

    Maeve: Okay, forget it. He's right. Let's just get this over with and we can move on. I think this post has already turned out to be stupidly long without us padding it out further.

    Soriel: I have no idea what you just said.

    Maeve: Just look at the bloody photographs. MZZT, get in here.

    MZZT: I don't think that's a good idea. Someone needs to stay over here and make sure nothing else comes through while you lot are all... vulnerable.

    Maeve: You haven't proven to be very useful in that department so far, MZZT.

    MZZT: The dude was naked!

    Maeve: Just... yeah. Try your best. We're off then. Wish us luck, MZZT.

    MZZT: Good luck.

    MZZT watches as Maeve, Soriel and The Otter look up at the photograph on the projector and slowly their bodies grow limp and their minds enter Memory Lane. He doubted he could do much to defend them if something else did show up, but he would try his damnedest. He then remembers to turn the turrets back on and hopes he didn't forget anything else.


    Losien: Master Thand! Please tell me, was this you! Did you take him away from me!?

    Arkng Thand: I assure you, this was not me. I like to have TLTE where I can see him and as long as he's with the NeS Heroes, he's practically luminous.

    Losien: Then what happened? Where did he go?

    Al Ciao: Oh my God, the humanity!!

    Gebohq: Wow, I didn't think you'd get that emotional over TLTE, Al.

    Al Ciao: Look at how she's bashing my face i- huh? TLTE?

    Gebohq: He's missing. One minute he was here and the next he was gone.

    Al Ciao: TLTE is... gone?

    For a moment Gebohq sees the old Highemperor staring out of Al Ciao's more genial face. Highemperor and TLTE had long ago been rivals and then firm friends that could never be separated. If anything would reawaken the old enigmatic Highemperor within Al Ciao; it would be TLTE.

    But then there's a scraping sound, like nails on a blackboard, when three new people appear from the ether.

    Al Ciao: Wow, what're you guys doing here? Conveniently distracting me.

    Rachel: Wow, Soriel. You're still alive... I'm actually shocked beyond belief.

    Gebohq: Maeve? Is that you? You've been gone for (p)AGES! Where have you been?

    Losien: Where's TLTE?

    The Otter: Aw, did nobody miss me?

    Rachel: Otter, you're like a bad smell that just lingers and lingers and lingers.

    Maeve: That bad smell will be the stale booze.

    Soriel: TLTE was taken by The Illusionist.

    Losien: Who's that?

    Al Ciao: You mean Darth Puis, right? The crazy-checkered guy that kidnapped the alternate reality Gebohq that one time. When I came back into the story. We should all remember this part. It was awesome. I was on this plane-...

    Maeve: Wow... you're annoying.

    Al Ciao: Don't you mean awesome?

    Maeve: Awesomely annoying? Might be a bit much.

    Amal: I think Al might have eaten JM at some point.

    Gebohq: It was always there, it just flourishes more in JM's absence.

    Losien: How do we find this Darth Puis?

    Soriel: She-

    Al Ciao: He.

    Soriel: Whichever. She can create illusions and make herself look like anyone or anything. She was disguised as Benjamin Mahir and then turned into Cool Matty so she could use his teleport spell to escape.

    Losien: So she's limited to using whatever the talents are of whoever she's mimicking.

    Soriel: Yes, but she can mimic any one of us.

    Rachel: That's nothing to worry about then, is it?

    Arkng Thand: And any random character that might have appeared at some point in the storyline or even someone who has never even been seen by the central storyline.

    Losien: So she can be anyone and do anything? Sounds like a super-villain.

    Soriel: So, she's a henchman for someone else. She'll always want a master.

    Losien: We need to go back and stop her.

    Arkng Thand: I strongly suggest that we remain here and finish this story arc first. The narrative clearly demands it and I do believe that you, Losien, will need time to grow as the central character if you want to lead your NeS Heroes to your lover's rescue.

    The Otter: I notice he said "your" NeS Heroes. Like he's not one of us?

    Losien: But... I guess you're right.

    Maeve: I suppose we'll have to go back. MZZT can only block entry from the HoH end of the portal. He can't watch over the rest of us from the HHH.

    Losien: The HoH? Portal?

    Maeve: Doesn't matter. I suppose I'll have to be sidelined again...

    Gebohq: No.

    Maeve: What?

    Gebohq: You should stay with the main cast, Maeve. They need a strong woman, who isn't the lead.

    Rachel: And I'm chopped liver?

    Gebohq: Besides, I'm no longer the main character. I'm just a hanger-on right now and getting in the way.

    Losien: That's not true!

    Gebohq: It is. I'm holding you back, Losien. Everything about who I was is holding you back. I need to take a back seat and let you establish yourself.

    Losien: But...

    Arkng Thand places a gentle hand upon the shoulder of Gebohq and he looks down into the younger man's eyes.

    Arkng Thand: Well done, my boy. That was very heroic of you. I'm proud.

    The Otter: Not sure if I think that's a good thing. Isn't this guy a bit... manipulative?

    Rachel: You seem to have inherited TLTE's scepticism about Thand.

    The Otter: Someone had to!

    Gebohq closes his eyes. There's a long pause and then he disappears, presumably waking up back in the HHH and able to see MZZT on the other side of the mysterious wardrobe.

    Rachel: A mysterious wardrobe? Where the Hell is this HoH? Narnia?


    Britt the Writer: Aha!!

    Britt the Writer bursts from his office, sending Al Ciao the Writer sprawling on the floor.

    Al Ciao the Writer: Ouch...

    Al Ciao the Writer rolls onto his back and stares up at Britt the Writer.

    Al Ciao the Writer: You actually did it. You actually removed, not only, TLTE but Gebohq! Gebohq!

    Britt the Writer: Hey, it wasn't me that named Losien the new main lead. We're just following story conventions. TLTE is now the love interest and therefore is instantly the damsel in distress. Just wait 'til I put him in a pink dress!

    Al Ciao the Writer: The HORROR!

    Britt the Writer: And so long as Gebohq was around Losien would never be the main character. It would be impossible. Gebohq will still be around but more as 'the guy on the phone' for now.

    Al Ciao the Writer: MADNESS! Get back in your jungle!

    Britt the Writer: It's gone. I think Liberius Vir the Writer actually went ahead and cleaned it all up after new labelled as the newbie...

    Al Ciao the Writer: That might explain why he seems to have disappeared...

    Britt the Writer: It would have been that alligator. Nasty brute he was.

    Al Ciao the Writer: Come to think of it, Gebohq the Writer's been awfully quiet too. Maybe you depressed him so much with your removal of his main character! See what you've done!?

    Britt the Writer: Shut up and write. This is our chance to shine, my old chum!

    Britt the Writer helps Al Ciao the Writer to his feet.

    Al Ciao the Writer: My what?

    Britt the Writer: Doesn't matter. British.

    Al Ciao: Me no speaky your language! Speaky the English!
    Last edited by TheBritt; 04-28-2012 at 04:51 AM.

  11. #1331
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    Back to the Past!

    Al Ciao: I'm getting tired of watching myself get smushed by a woman.

    Rachel: Well it's not like we can move this thing along on command.

    As though by command...

    Rachel: You bas-

    The scene fades to white again and the heroes feel the sudden lurch as they are yanked from one photograph to the next into their metaphysical journey. The heroes new to the experience all give a groan of complaint as they feel their stomachs turn.

    Al Ciao: Ah yes. I remember the first time I moved from one page to the next... the good old days.

    Rachel: That was like... a couple off posts ago!

    Al Ciao: Feels like many, many years ago. The good old da-

    Rachel: Are you going for the April Fools' gig or something? I'm still the master of the jokes around here, mate.

    Al Ciao: Aw, c'mon. I've been Mr Awesome Gag since I came back with my awesomely coloured hair.

    Rachel: Don't make me get the comedy frying pan. I still have access to hammer space!

    Al Ciao: Sorry...

    After the brief interlude the scene warps into existence and, once again, the group are in the fabled Arena of Ares.

    Maeve: I hate this place.

    Losien: We should hurry through this. I need to savee TLTE!

    Arkng Thand: Patience, young Losien. You need your training first. You won't be able to save TLTE in your current state. Remember your story conventions, my dear. No harm could possibly befall TLTE so long as you are the main character.

    Amal: At least not until we finally reach him. If it's a tragedy he'll die and you'll probably kill yourself.

    Rachel: Like Romeo and Juliet! How romantic!

    Losien: I hope not! I don't want either me or TLTE to die! I will save him!

    Arkng Thand: That's the spirit, Losien. With determination like that you're sure to forever propel the storyline forward through conflict.

    Maeve: Oh God... why does the NeS always have to have some snoozefest love story going on?

    Amal: And what kind of love story would you prefer?

    The Otter: One were all the women want The Otter!

    Rachel: ... To die.

    The Otter: Why are you so mean?

    Maeve: I think one with a good love triangle involved would be epic. This unfaltering love between two characters is so clichť and dull. You need to have more in there. Get some drama going!

    Arkng Thand: So you believe that if Losien had more than one love interest it would breed conflict?

    Maeve: Exactly. A... who should she choose kind of thing.

    Arkng Thand: Defeating the ultimate narrative convention of love with love itself. Poetic conflict. I may have to keep this in mind. You, my dear, have the makings of a true NeScholar.

    Amal: But, Uncle, you killed most of the NeScholars.

    Arkng Thand: I never did! I simply cut them from existence.

    Rachel: Isn't that the same damn thing?

    Arkng Thand: How can someone be killed if they never existed? And perhaps it is time the NeScholars were reinstated. Under my watchful eye, of course, and with one prime goal. The continuation of the NeS.

    Amal: Sounds like a Chekov's Gun moment, Uncle Thand.

    The Otter: Is that one of TLTE's "com-raids"?

    Arkng Thand: It's a writing expression. It means you see the plot device early in the story which is later used as a device for furthering the story in some fashion. Rather than just springing it on the audience, we already know that the gun existed but we may not have suspected its future use. So, Amal is suggesting that what I just said may return in the future but it won't just appear unexpectedly.

    The Otter: That's just stupid. Things always randomly appear from nowhere. This is the NeS!

    Arkng Thand: Ah, but I am a character of infinite depth. A deus ex machina would not serve my character. Better to have a slow climax that builds around an infinite, enigmatic web.

    Rachel: You actually studied yourself with relation to story conventions, didn't you?

    Arkng Thand: Of course! One should always be aware of one's place.

    Maeve: You're a pompous arse, aren't you?

    Arkng Thand: I take it back. You're cut from the NeScholars.

    Rachel: So they'd only be whatever you want them to be and wouldn't be allowed to stand up to you?

    The Otter: Naz-!!

    Maeve: Otter! Never say the N word! It's always the ultimate point at which you know the storyline has gone off the rails and run its course. It's the realm of the desperate.


    Britt the Writer: Damn.

    Al Ciao the Writer: Yeah. Like... N-Word zombies would have been fun.

    Britt the Writer: Or like a... sexy N-Word zombie woman.

    Al Ciao the Writer: A sexy, badasss N-Word zombie woman! With a whip!

    Britt and Al Ciao the Writer: ...

    Britt the Writer: Okay... maybe not a zombie. All that rotting flesh is kind of a turn off.

    Al Ciao the Writer runs off to the bathromm to vomit.

    Britt the Writer: Wait, we have a bathroom!!!??


    Losien: Anyway. Why are we back in the Arena? Weren't we just here? It doesn't even look that different than when we were last here. In fact most of the people are the same.

    Rachel: Except Gebohq is fighting some kind of Super Saiyan Ninja Jedi.

    The Otter: Sith.

    Rachel: What?

    The Otter: He's a Sith, not a Jedi. Think good guys and bad guys.

    Rachel: Whatever, nerd-boy.

    The Otter: Oi! This is the NeS! It's completely nerdy! You're nerdy!

    Rachel: I am!?

    The Otter: Totally! The whole concept of you being April Fools' Incarnate is a little nerdy all by itself, I mean the over-the-top idea is nerdtastic, the fact that you're a bit clichť as far as female characters go too is pretty nerdy...

    Rachel: I'm clichť?

    Soriel: I have heard some awful dialogue from you in the past. And who actually calls their loved-one something like "Gebby-poo".

    Rachel: You too Soriel!?

    Soriel: I just felt I should give my input. Plus I hadn't said anything in the whole of this post yet.

    The Otter: And one of the Writers made you Chinese, which is all kinds of super hot nerd fantasy. If you weren't the April Fools thing you'd probably have turned out to be a gamer or tech-savvy or something.

    Rachel: Is the Gamecube nerdy?

    The Otter: Very.

    Maeve: Otter, if you keep being competent at these things, your profile will probably need a rewrite.

    The Otter: We can't let the old geezer give all of the exposition, can we?

    Arkng Thand: Indeed...

    Losien: Oh my God! Look! It's Antestarr!!

    Up in the stands, or 'bleachers' as you weird Americans call them, is the dark-clad Antestarr making his debut on the Second Page of the NeS.

    Rachel: Is he trying to kill Jerry Springer?

    Soriel: I'll honestly never understand how anyone started to read this crap.

    Al Ciao: Hey, it's this craziness that makes the NeS fun and relaxing!

    Rachel: Says Mr Melodramatic Powerplayer.

    Al Ciao: Former.

    Rachel: Ish...

    Losien: So I suppose seeing Antestarr's entry to the NeS was fairly important. He's a long-standing character that really changed the NeS in a lot of ways, right?

    Arkng Thand: Well, we'll probably see in time, won't we?

    The scene fades out again into white.

    The Ottter: That was quick.

    Arkng Thand: Well I do suppose we've a lot to get through!

    Once again the Arena appears before them, once again it is very similiar but a little further along in time with different characters and actions being taken.

    Soriel: Is that... Twin Suns?

    Arkng Thand: I'm shocked that you recognise him in this old setting. He's very different now.

    Soriel: I recognise his style of combat. You can hide a man behind a suit but his body language will come through in some shape or form.

    Arkng Thand: Or it's simply a bit of narrative to solidify your connection to your former commander. Either way, yes that was Twin Suns.

    Losien: He's attacking Antestarr!

    The Otter: Good on him! Kick his arse, Twin Suns!!

    Arkng Thand: He can't hear you.

    Maeve: Neither can the TV but he still hurls abuse at the referee.

    Soriel: But he hurls abuse at everything when he's drunk.

    Rachel: Which is most of the time.

    The Otter: Is this pick on The Otter day!?

    Al Ciao: Yes.

    Al Ciao gives The Otter a complimentary smack on the back of his head, almost knocking his signature bowler hat off of his head.

    The Otter: It's usually a woman doing that, you know?

    Al Ciao: I'm in touch with my feminine side.

    Suddenly the ground shakes. Though the heroes feel the shaking, they also feel oddly disconnected as though they are only feeling a simulated shaking. Their bodies do not move, only the scenary around them shudders. They look up and see metal machines stomping towards the Historical Heroes. Imperial Rabbit Walkers!

    Amal: Wow... things were so much simpler in this time.

    The Otter: That's Page Three for you...
    Last edited by TheBritt; 05-01-2012 at 12:56 AM. Reason: minor edit from 'dead' to 'dear'

  12. #1332
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    Page 3

    In the office of Britt the Writer in the Writer's Domain, the sounds of typing can be heard as Britt the Writer himself is typing up his latest post to the NeS. Al Ciao the Writer is milling about in the corner of the room doing absolutely nothing. As usual.

    Al Ciao: Heeeeeeeeeeeey...

    Britt's typing grows louder and more intense as he realises he is writing pure gold! This post could sell for millions! Finally the NeS would generate cash! A manic grin spreads across his face.

    But then...

    Britt the Writer: What the Hell?

    Britt presses a button.

    Britt bashes a button.

    Britt bashes several buttons.

    Britt slams the keys of his laptop with a hammer.

    Britt the Writer: It just crashed! Crashed! Right in the middle of-!

    Al Ciao the Writer: Meh. Easy come, easy go.

    Britt the Writer leaps at Al Ciao the Writer with murder in his eyes.


    Sometime after rebooting Internet Explorer, Britt the Writer's post emerges, albeit newer and much less awesome. In fact this post will not even get interest from other NeS writers, let alone make any money. It's so awful-...

    Britt the Writer: Oi! Get on with it! I already put in the scene break!

    Fine, fine.

    Back in the Historical Arena our current heroes watch at the Imperial Rabbit-Walkers approach the Historical Heroes. However our current band stand in between them and many of them begin to exchange nervous glances.

    Al Ciao: Uh, are we sure we can't be stomped into bits?

    Rachel: It'd be mush. Not bits. If I smacked you with a hammer you'd be in bits, but under those feet you'd be mush.

    Al Ciao: Whatever! Same end result. Me, dead.

    Arkng Thand: I have already explained that we cannot directly interact with this setting. We are merely viewers.

    Al Ciao: You're certain?

    Arkng Thand: Mostly.

    Al Ciao: Mostly!?

    Arkng Thand: Well, for all my story knowledge, I am also well aware of the whimsical nature and fickle hearts of our esteemed writers. If one of them decides it'd would be amusing to have us stomped on by a giant Rabbit-Walker, whether it should or shouldn't be able to, then it will happen.

    Al Ciao: Uh... how likely are they to feel like being entertained about now?

    The Otter: There's a bunch of giant, metallic robot rabbits in the style of AT-ATs. I'd say our writers are fairly whimsical and free with their ideas...

    The group stare at the approaching walkers, most of them with unease. Al Ciao, however, breaks into an outright panic and runs for it. Oddly enough, the Imperial Rabbit-Walkers stride straight past the current heroes and seem to follow Al Ciao as he runs across the Arena.

    Suddenly Al Ciao smacks into something hard and invisible, causing him to comically rebound in a state of splayed arms and legs.

    Losien: What happened to him?

    Amal: I think he must have hit the edge of the photograph.

    Al Ciao opens his eyes just in time to see the gigantic foot of a Rabbit-Walker descending upon him. He squeals like n exceptionally feminine ten-year-old girl.
    Losien: Oh no...

    Soriel: Well, there goes our resident powerplayer.

    Rachel: Yes! Score!

    The foot rises and the Rabbit-Walkers continue to head straight for the Historical Heroes. The dust finally settles and the body of Al Ciao is revealed...

    Rachel: Damn.

    The quivering figure of Al Ciao slowly rises to his knees. He stares after the rears of the Rabbit-Walkers for a long moment. Then he throws his arms up into the air.

    Al Ciao: Bless you Writer Gods for sparing me this day! Praise be!

    Arkng Thand: I did tell him it was technically impossible for him to die here, right?

    Losien: Does this mean Al Ciao has found God?

    Maeve: Or the Writers at least.

    Al Ciao: Praise be unto them that spareth the life of such a man as I!

    Maeve: I don't think that was even in English...

    Losien: He's lost it...

    The Otter: Uh... did he ever have it?
    Last edited by TheBritt; 05-04-2012 at 03:48 AM. Reason: Added title

  13. #1333
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    ...And the Rest

    Al Ciao: Oh, praise the lords! Oh yeaaaah!

    While Al Ciao continues to sing Writer-God songs, praising them for their mercy, the heroes are yanked, once again, into the whiteness of the projector's light before the world settles again when a new photograph is magically placed in as the next slide.

    Maeve: This bloody Arena again!

    Amal: Uh, we do seem to have moved though. Look there are buildings around here.

    Maeve: There are buildings in the middle of the Arena?

    Amal: Apparently so. It's a... 7/11...

    The Otter: Look! It's me!

    Indeed, The Historical Otter opens up his medical bag and from it he draws two nasty looking guns. He then proceeds to march into the 7/11.

    Losien: Uh, Otter... are you doing what I think you're doing?

    Arkng Thand: He isn't doing anything. He was robbing the 7/11 in the past, however.

    The Otter: Ah, good times. Back in the good old days!

    Maeve: Even I wouldn't stoop to nicking my booze, Otter.

    Amal: And look, there's Semievil with Gebohq!

    The Otter: Brings a tear to my eye.

    Rachel: I always wondered, what is semi-evil? I mean, is it when you can kill a guy but not his family? Or maybe half of his family? Or maybe just the pet dog? Or just stand on the pet dog's tail? Or just shout at the dog?

    Maeve: Maybe you should ask him yourself?

    Maeve's tone clearly suggests that she wants to move the conversation quickly away from whatever warp Rachel wanted to take it to.

    The Otter: Oh wait. I think I remember this part. This is where Geb saw my substantial pr0n collection!

    Losien: WHAT!?

    The Otter: Uh... you never knew? Geb was made the pr0n Lord only after he saw mine and became envious!

    Losien: I... I have selective memories of my brother! The rest are blotted out! Like that time I saw him on the couch with the apple an-

    Everyone Else (except Otter): ARGH!!!

    The Otter: Actually I think Semievil reacted to my stash in much the same way when he got up to my crib.

    Maeve: His crib? How Americanised are you, Otter?

    The Otter: Hanging out with the NeS Heroes since page 3 means I've had a lot of writers and most of them couldn't write a British guy even if I bit the writer on the arse.

    Al Ciao: Don't blaspheme!

    The Otter pointed up to the 'Crow's Nest', the long forgotten former home to a couple of NeS Heroes that wanted to escape the fighting in the Arena. And look at pr0n.

    Amal: The Writers really didn't have much to write about in these early pages did they?

    The Otter: Well I did get to kill the Gonk thing. And then me and Antestarr agreed to hunt down and kill Twin Suns.

    Losien: You did?

    Maeve: It's probably all his fault that Twin Suns is a loony.

    Soriel: I feel I should say something.

    Everyone Else: ...

    Everyone Else: ...

    Losien: Well, Soriel?

    Soriel: Huh? Oh, nothing. I just felt I should say something, so I did.

    Everyone Else: ...

    Soriel: Okay, I don't get to make many witty remarks because I'm too serious. There's nothing to kill, so there's no action scenes for me to chop stuff in. And there's not much going on regarding women so even my sword is being quiet.

    The Otter: Hahaha! That gag will never get old.

    Al Ciao: Indeed, the Writers are wise and witty.

    Losien: Right... okay, so wh-

    Losien is cut off as the entire group is, once again, dragged into the whiteness between slides.

    Losien: Wow, already? That was quick!

    Amal: I suppose the Writers figured even if you do one page per post then the count could come to fifty for the first half of the NeS and then another thirty for the NeS Squared. Not to mention the few pages of Shattered and maybe even for the spin-offs...

    Losien: We'll be here all day...

    The Arena, once again, materialises around them. This time a new building has been added to the roster of inexplicable buildings in the middle of the fight. This time, it's a bar. As the group look on they see a wasted Antestarr stagger inside.

    Rachel: Well, that was a novelty. To see someone like Antestarr so messed up!

    Al Ciao: Uh, you know he's sick now right?

    Rachel: And? It doesn't mean he hasn't always got a stick up his ass, does it? It's good to see him like this!

    Maeve: You should have said arse.

    Amal: Wow! You just swore, Maeve!

    Maeve: I know! Great, right? You see, in the eyes of most people reading this arse isn't a swear word because it's original English and not American. So we'll get no complaints.

    Al Ciao: I thought you spoke British?

    Maeve: Go back to your God preaching, idiot boy.

    Al Ciao: Writer-Gods preaching.

    Maeve: Whatever.

    Losien: And typical, the sound of the word vodka and The Otter is instantly at the bar.

    The Historical Otter has made his way to the new bar and heads inside after Antestarr.

    The Otter: Yeah, I robbed that place too. It was awesome.

    Soriel: Wait, why are you on the NeS Heroes again? You're worse than me!

    The Otter: I don't go round killing stuff all the time!

    Soriel: You said you killed Gonk.

    The Otter: Only once!

    Maeve: Aw, there's MaybeChilde! God I miss her.

    Losien: It's the classic team. Gebohq, Semievil, MaybeChilde, Antestarr, The Otter. Oh and Miss Fire is with them.

    Amal: You don't consider Miss Fire a classic character?

    Losien: I do! But she hasn't been a consistent character as long as all of the others, nor has she affected the plot as much as any of the others.

    The Otter: Aww, you think I effect the plot Los?

    Losien: Of course you do!

    Maeve: Unfortunately...

    Soriel: Who are they fighting?

    Rachel: Someone unimportant. If we don't know him, he's probably some minor villain that vanished after a page or two.

    The Otter: God, just looking at that bar is killing me. I could really do with a drink.

    Maeve: Well, I do have this...

    Maeve pulls a hip-flask from her pocket and jiggles it at The Otter temptingly.

    The Otter: You are a goddess!

    Losien: No!

    Maeve & The Otter: Eh?

    Losien: I said no! As leader of the NeS Heroes I must say no to alcoholism!

    Maeve & The Otter: Awwwww...

    Suddenly they hear screaming and all turn back to the bar to see the Historical Antestarr running from the bar and The Otter running after him in fits of hysterical laughter.

    Losien: What...?

    The Otter: Ohhhh! He just grabbed some woman's boobs. Only it wasn't a woman.

    Losien: Wasn't a woman?

    The Otter: Tranny. It was amazing. You shouldn't have seen his face when that gong of realisation first hit him.

    The two Historical figures head towards The Otter's pad; the Crow's Nest.

    Arkng Thand: You know... I think a plot-hole was just plugged.

    Amal: Why's that, Uncle Thand?

    Arkng Thand: In the original script Antestarr leaves the bar and two posts later both he and The Otter are in the Crow's Nest right before Antestarr is thrown from the window...

    There's a loud smash in the Arena and they all see Antestarr sailing through the air.

    Losien: Oh my God!

    Arkng Thand: He'll be fine. At least he'll be fine until he contracts his illness much, much later in the narrative.

    Losien: Oh my God!

    The heroes are then sucked again into whiteness!

    Losien: Seriously? Already? This is getting too quick! Did anything else happen on this page?

    The Otter: Erm... Sem and Antestarr have a fight. Antestarr cheats and has his dog, Trixie, attack Sem. And I think there was something about Semievil the Writer at some point too, but who cares about the Writers, eh?

    Al Ciao: Devil worshipper!

    Losien: Wait, Antestarr has a dog called... Trixie?

    The Otter: Yes.

    Losien: Antestarr, the self-proclaimed badass of the NeS? Mr Anti-Hero himself? The guy that tried to kill Rachel, here-

    Rachel: Good point, I forgot about that.

    Losien: -And wants to free us from the oppression of the Writers?

    Al Ciao: The heretic!

    The Otter: Yes.

    Losien: Wow... and you think you know someone.

    Rachel: Is it just me that's getting bored of Al's stupid preacher jokes?

    Before anyone can reply either in defence of Al Ciao or to support Rachel's claim, the group find themselves back in the Arena again. However this time the view that greets them is that of a giant bear, or specifically a constellation bear, with a Yoda-like creature clinging to its foot and Antestarr riding the bizarre beast. Standing before the bear is a robot dog. Trixie, after she underwent roboticisation. Between Trixie and constellation bear plays a slow, romantic theme tune.

    Soriel: What... the ... fu-?

    Suddenly the bear and the dog run off, leaving the Historical Yodafied Semievil and Historical Antestarr behind. The current heroes all stare, dumstruck. Their shock and horror is furthered and prolonged when the constellation bear and Trixie return half-a-minute later with a litter of half-cybernetic-puppies-half-constellation-bear-cubs.

    Al Ciao: By all that is holy!!

    Rachel: Where are your Writer-Gods now!? Where are they!!!?

    Arkng Thand: Moving past the idiotic melodrama between you two, the Writer-Gods you refer to were actually writing this... insanity.

    Al Ciao: Oh Writer-Gods! How could you do this!? Is this a test? A trial for your faithful servant!?

    Maeve: Wait, didn't someone say you were the ruler of Hell now or something?

    Al Ciao: My faith is not to your puny God-

    Maeve: Who said I believed in God?

    Al Ciao: - but to the true Writer-Gods! They write your God!

    The Otter: What's that?

    Standing some distance away is the figure of a man amidst a swathe of black-void material that writhes around him as though it were alive. Our heroes have caught up to Knowsoul at last.

    Maeve: Bad guy?

    Losien: Yes.

    Maeve: Soriel. Sic 'em.

    Instantly the swordsman dashes out, finally having a purpose in this actionless story arc.

    Al Ciao the Writer: There's plenty of action!

    Britt the Writer: But no action for our main heroes. They can't interact with their surroundings. So point stands.

    Hey, you two get back to your own realm!

    Soriel's feet kicked up dust plumes as she speeds towards Knowsoul. The other heroes hurry in pursuit but they cannot match Soriel's speed. Maeve shouts something about an attack dog to Losien but Soriel cannot hear her words clearly over the thud of adrenaline in his veins. He leaps into the air when he finally nears Knowsoul but as he comes down again, straight at the dark and mysterious figure, Knowsoul speaks-

    Knowsoul: Too late.

    - Soriel's sword strikes the dusty ground of the Arena and Knowsoul is gone.

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Two times in one day. You're getting slow, dude. What's up, these pansy NeS Heroes holding you back already?

    Soriel: My sword never misses... except by story conventions.

    Arkng Thand: Agreed, Soriel. Knowsoul may have used this to his advantage to make his escape.

    The other heroes manage to arrive, baffled that Arkng Thand managed to reach Soriel long before any of them.

    Rachel, panting a little from her run, approaches Soriel.

    Rachel: Soriel. I've been meaning to ask. You were only absent from the NeS for maybe three pages, why the Hell were you with those Forgotten geeks anyway?

    Al Ciao: You're a geek and geek-boy's wet dream, remember?

    Rachel: Soriel, we will pretend God-boy didn't interrupt. Please continue.

    Soriel: Uh... well. Mr Stafford said I was going to be forgotten soon. It was inevitable because my writer was in China and reading the NeS from the beginning... whatever any of that means.

    Arkng Thand's eyes widen and he mutters;

    Arkng Thand: Good God...

    Soriel: But he wanted me to work for his corporation and stuff so I told him to shove a-

    Losien: If that's going to be graphic, please refrain Soriel.

    Soriel: Uh... I told him to go away...

    Maeve: Wow, she got you whipped quick, boy!

    Soriel: She's the leader right?

    Rachel: Plus I bet his sword is telling him to be nice to her, right?

    Soriel: Actually, he's being surprisingly quiet right now.

    Rachel: Not the sword I meant, eh!!?

    The Otter: Comedy GOLD!!!

    Soriel: Do you want me to finish?

    Rachel: That's what she said!!

    The Otter: MINT!


    Al Ciao: What the Hell does mint mean?

    Losien:I think it means awesome...

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Your new friends are awesome! They can stay. Especially the chick making dirty jokes.

    Soriel: You've met her before. Only then she was pining over Gebohq, so I suppose the rude jokes were on a back-burner.

    Amal: Wow, he really does talk to his sword...

    The Otter proceeds to guffaw loudly.

    Rachel: Aww, we're only playing Soriel. You know you're my number one hero next to Geb. You were there when no one else was.

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Wow! She's totally in to you, dude! I say, later, we bump this Geb loser off and we take the Asian babe!

    Soriel: I will not kill Gebohq...

    Losien: Uh... what?

    Soriel: Talking to my sword.

    Rachel: Why were you with the Forgotten?

    Soriel: Boredom.

    Rachel: Seriously?

    Maeve: I can believe it.

    Soriel: They said I could kill stuff, and they really weren't lying there, so I signed up. Plus it meant I had somewhere cool to be for when I was Truly Forgotten.

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Yeah, I was dirty for ages. At least there were plenty of needy Forgotten Ladies around.

    Soriel: I wish you'd shut up.

    Amal: Uh, why can no one else hear your sword, Soriel?

    Soriel: No idea. Comedy narrative convention? Although there was one who could hear him...

    Everyone Else: GASP!

    Soriel: That Zippo Lighter.

    Everyone Else: ...

    Soriel: Cheshire Zippo, or whatever it was. Ford's.

    Everyone Else: ...

    Rachel: So... your sword was having a bit of a one-on-one with Ford's zip-po? Eh!? Eh!!?

    The Otter throws himself to the ground with laughter. Soriel grumbles.

    Soriel: Aren't we forgetting this villain thing I just tried to chop? And is there anything else to do here on Page 6?
    Last edited by TheBritt; 05-04-2012 at 08:58 AM.

  14. #1334
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    Bully for You

    Suddenly everything went blurry for our intrepid heroes.

    The Otter: Why did everything go blurry!!?

    I'm coming to that part...

    The Otter: Oh, sorry I wasn't talking to you Narrator. I was just making a general observation. More to the rest of the team, you know?

    Soriel: Team? You make us sound like staff.

    Maeve: Like the "Team" on House MD.

    The Otter: If this was a House MD parody, who would be House?

    Maeve: Toss up between Thand and Soriel. Thand is the oldest of us, but Soriel is a ****.

    Soriel: Hey...

    The Otter: So's Thand.

    Arkng Thand: Hey...

    Maeve: Rachel would be Thirteen because of the whole bi-sexual thing.

    The Otter: Rachel's bi-sexual?

    Rachel: There might have been a moment earlier in the script...

    The Otter: Weren't you meant to be bi-sexual, Maeve? Or maybe a lesbian? Or... wait weren't you married to some bloke?

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: This conversation is turning me on...

    Soriel drops his sword in shock and disgust.

    Maeve: The less said about my sex-life, the better. As for yours, Otter, you're sex life compares to... Taub.

    The Otter: Taub? Seriously?

    Maeve: Yeah. Incapable of keeping it in your pants.

    The Otter: Chase is like that two! And he's better looking!

    Maeve: You're Taub.

    The Otter: Damn you woman.

    Amal: I think we've had this blurry vision for long enough, don't you? Maybe we can get on with the scene change?

    Al Ciao: Is that what this is? I thought I'd been eating strange berries again...

    Amal: I... won't respond to that.

    The scene sets after the wobbly effect dissipates and the heroes, finally, find themselves in a new location.

    Maeve: FINALLY!

    Al Ciao: Apparently one of the Writer-Gods grew tired of the Arena.

    Rachel: I hope one of them grows tired of your God-bashing. In fact, scratch that, I hope one of them grows tired of you... period.

    The Otter: My God! What!?

    Maeve: She meant full-stop.

    The Otter: Oh thank God.

    Al Ciao: The world speaks English now, you too. None of this British stuff!

    Maeve: Okay, I now agree with Rachel.

    Soriel: Where are we?

    Amal: It looks like...

    Arkng Thand: Stonehenge.

    The current heroes cast their gazes towards the famous, ancient stone circle with some awe. Except The Otter because he was here the first time around so he just looked at Maeve's arse.

    Maeve: He what!?

    The Otter: Snitch!

    The Historical Heroes were clad in traditional Dungeons and Dragons get-ups that might have placed them into the category of cos-players-

    Maeve: Or just freaks...

    - but they were each a specific class of hero, just like in the table-top RPG. They face off against several enemies, including one named Farr. A minor villain that would constantly reappear throughout the narrative of the NeS, always serving someone else. Easily forgettable until he reappears and the audience is like "oh, it's that guy again". I honestly have no idea why he even comes back or is remembered. He's just so d-

    Farr: Please, shut up!

    Whoa! How did he do that? Surely he shouldn't be able to hear me, I'm the Future Narrator! He should only hear Historical Narrator! Which, come to think of it, I haven't heard much about me as yet in this historical journey!

    Maeve: I think the Narrator's annoying rambling can break through the Christmas Carol Effect. That's how annoying it is, so, please, Mr Narrator could you... SHUT UP!?

    Historical Krig: Here, kitty, kitty, kitty...

    Rachel: Wow. That was like, super creepy!

    Amal: Oh hey. This must be Krig the Viking's first appearance in the NeS.

    Al Ciao: Typical, he's trying to eat something.

    Rachel: Harsh! He's going to eat that little, fat cat!

    The Otter: Wait... that's no ordinary cat... it's a sp- I mean, it's a web-kitty!

    Rachel: A what?

    With that, the fat cat ate Krig!


    Soriel: Did you see how wide it's mouth grew? That was impressive! I wonder if I can kill it.

    Arkng Thand: As I constantly have to point out, you canno-

    Soriel: I meant in the future.

    Arkng Thand: Of course you did...

    Rachel: I actually think he did, else he'd already be over there hacking at it.

    The Historical Otter begins to try and reason with Morris, the Web-kitty, before shouting at the weird cat until he spits out the unfortunate, and still hungry, Viking warrior.

    Rachel: That was pretty gross.

    The heroes are yanked yet again through a page and onto page 7. The Otter is seen holding onto his bowler hat as though it might fly off the page, whilst Rachel grabs onto Soriel's arm for support. Al Ciao pulls a face that suggests he's contipated until they finally land again, back at Stonehenge.

    Al Ciao: I am not constipated! Well, maybe a little bit... it was just a painful transition.

    Amal: That did seem more... abrasive than the other times.

    Arkng Thand: I guess our current Writer-

    Al Ciao: May his name be praised.

    Arkng Thand: -wanted to add a little tension to the transition.

    Rachel: Which was then ruined by you lot talking about it.

    The Otter: Thand and his great exposition skills...

    Arkng Thand: Why does everyone call me Thand? You know, you could call me by my first name? It's Arkng.

    Rachel: Because no one could pronounce that.

    Arkng Thand: I just did!

    Al Ciao: And I'm sure it's easier for our esteemed writers to simply write Thand.

    Whilst our petulent heroes continue to argue, or Historical Heroes are bravely combating fierce enemies in one of the most serious battles thus far in NeS History! NeS history of just seven pages worth, but still! Semievil, Gebohq, MaybeChild, The Otter, Antestarr and Krig the Viking all tackle their opponents, one of which is the beautiful, yet hateful, sister of Semievil; Totally Evil.

    Maeve: Wow, she is pretty foxy...

    Everyone else stares at Maeve. Even Arkng Thand seems to display some emotion to Maeve's homosexual moment.

    The Otter: ...more...

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: ...more...

    Rachel: I begin to understand the nerdy, fanboy stuff you were talking about before, Al.

    Al Ciao: ...more...

    Rachel: Tsk.

    Maeve: You know, someone can comment on another person's hotness without being sexually attracted to them, right?

    The Otter: Maeve said seeeex...

    The Otter drools on himself.

    Amal: Maybe we should be concerned about the future implications of Maeve's attraction to an evil villain who may use this to subdue Maeve or turn her against us in the next story arc?

    The Otter: Lessums... good...

    Soriel: Moving on. I also notice that we have a Doctor Evil with our villains?

    Maeve: He's the father of Semievil and Totally Evil. Come to think of it, I wonder what Dr Evil's first name is? I mean, it's not doctor is it?

    Amal: I think it might be Supreme. Supreme Evil. He had a younger brother called Somewhat Evil too.

    Rachel: Do you think they're distant relatives of The Last True Evil in some way?

    Maeve: I think that's just a coincidence.

    Will our current heroes ever catch up to Knowsoul? Will any other Writer actually write something before Britt the Writer strikes again? Will our Historical Heroes realise they're being watched? Will-

    The Otter: Hey, before we finish, just a thought... where's Losien?

    Losien: I'm right here.

    The Otter: Ah! Sorry. You didn't say anything all post.

    Al Ciao: I think the Writer forgot about her...

    Losien: Really?

    Amal: I guess she was upstaged by the far more confident, bold and interesting current female co-stars of the Story; Rachel and Maeve.

    Maeve: Uh... sorry about that Losien?

    Rachel: I'm not!

    Amal: Really? Losien is the main character! Our leader!

    Rachel: I'm still pissed at her for taking Geb's role away from him. So that now he's not even here. It's all her fault. Plus, she's dull and boring and nobody likes her anyway. So there.

    Amal: Wow... Rachel's a *****...

    Al Ciao: I could have told you that. She hits me with frying pans all the time.

    Maeve: I blame Soriel.

    Soriel: ... ... Wait, what?

    Maeve: She must have spent too much time with you and your angst when she and you first appeared on the same page.

    Arkng Thand: It's good old-fashioned jealousy. Rachel is jealous that Gebohq will always put his sister first, even above spending time with Rachel.

    Rachel: Hey, don't turn this against me. I'm just being honest. It's about time somebody was.

    Maeve: This all smells like an episode of Glee...

    The Otter: Who would you be if this was an epi-

    Maeve: Let's not compare again, it alienates people who haven't watched the shows. House MD we can get away with but Glee? OOur audience are a bunch of nerds, not teenage girls.

    Al Ciao: I think our current Writer must watch it...

    Maeve: Shut it, you.

    Amal: You know, I hate to admit it but... I think The Otter kind of had a point. Even I forgot Losien was here.

    Soriel: She hasn't even defended her honour against these accusations.

    Al Ciao: You know, I think you just have a thing for Rachel, Soriel. This whole buddy-buddy thing you have with her is just sad...

    Soriel: What!?

    Maeve: You know, two people of opposite sexes can be friends, right?

    The Otter: They can?

    Al Ciao: And now you stick up for Soriel because he brought you back into the main story? You know, I think this really is becoming like Glee...

    Losien: You know what?

    The Otter: AH!? Oh, Losien...

    Losien: Yes Losien! Losien the Main Character! The character that's always here! I think Soriel actually has a point...

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: If you know what she means!? Hahaha... you know that was a triple entendre because there was her actual meaning, then meaning me and then meaning your-

    Soriel: What do you mean, Losien?

    Losien: I mean, you were right. I need to defend my honour. The last time you were this mean to me, Rachel, was on the battlefield between Hell and Disneyland.

    Soriel: That's when I splipped out of the story, come to think of it.

    Maeve: No time for your reminiscing now, Soriel. We have major character development going on.

    Losien: And I never did anything. I just took it. And I did it again just now. I find it hard to have confidence and... be hard when I need to be. But you know what? This time I won't be bullied!

    Losien springs into action and before anyone realises what was happening Losien's fist smacks into Rachel's face, sending the girl flying backwards and crashing into the floor with a well of blood pooling from her dainty nose. She props herself up and holds a hand under her wound. An expression of shock on her face is mirrored by the shock on everyone else's. Everyone is so surprised that none move to help Rachel, even Soriel and Maeve.

    Rachel staggers to her feet and spits out a glob of blood. She stares at the ground for a long moment while Losien stares at her opponent. It comes to an end when Rachel finally retaliates and flies at Losien, grabbing her sweater and flinging Losien to the ground. Rachel moves to jump on Losien and wail on her but Losien doesn't stay down. She rolls out of the way and jumps to her feet with a deftness of any martial arts hero.

    Losien: This has been a long time coming...

    Losien pulls out a pair of fingerless gloves and puts them on before striking her fighting pose, clenching her fists in a loose boxing stance.

    Rachel: Bring it on then, Main Character. Show me what you've got.

    Rachel, being of Asian descent, seems to have suddenly developed a keen sense for the more traditional Chinese martial arts (bloody stereotypes) holds a more fluid stance with an open-palm technique.

    A huge "VS" sign appears between them.

    Soriel: Did this just become Street Fighter?

    Maeve: Considering all of the love trists going on and the hormones, I'd say it's more Scott Pilgrim. Scott Pilgrim parodying Street Fighter.

    Soriel: A parody of a parody...

    The Otter: Do you even get Street Fighter on Jupiter?

    Soriel: There is no Jupiter!!

    The Otter: Oh yeah! Why do I keep forgetting this?

    What will happen in our awesome Rachel VS Losien fight? Truly this must be the most dramatic and hotly anticipated battle in NeS history!?

    Al Ciao: Uh, all of those super villain battles?

    Amal: This has no much more dramatic tension behind it. We're expected to fight super villains.

    Find out next time on the Never-ending Story!!

    Arkng Thand: Ah, sweet, sweet conflict.

    The Otter: Yeah, sweet, sweet, hot, sweaty, girl-on-girl conflict...

    The Otter drools.
    Last edited by TheBritt; 05-06-2012 at 10:03 AM. Reason: minor edits

  15. #1335
    Primitive drives continue to move the present-day heroes into violent and sexual thoughts, the memory of the Never-ending Story page seven's Stonehenge underscoring the situation they now find themselves in. The beautiful lead heroine, Losien Simon, and the foxy troublemaker, Rachel Pi, square off in their battle-to-be. Soriel, Maeve Benjamin Majir, and The Otter root for Rachel on one side, while Al Ciao, The Last True Evil, Amal, and Young rally for Losien on the other. Master Thand seems to have not sided with either, and not in a characteristically aloof manner either. On the contrary, Master Thand seems more of the same mind as Fred, Soriel's sex-hungry blade. No, that's not a euphemism.

    The Otter: Get 'er, Rachel!

    Losien: Hey! I thought you were on my side!

    The Otter: She's hotter right now.

    Rachel continues to rub her hands over her body.

    Maeve: She's probably smarter too.

    Soriel: And a more capable fighter than the proclaimed main character.

    Benjamin Majir: Wait - Rachel isn't the main character?

    Rachel spreads her arms out to show how right they are.

    Rachel: Did you already forget? You have to give the audience what they want.

    Losien: I'm just finally building up some self-confidence for once, and I'm not about to sell myself out now!

    Rachel: I'd suggest calling for help - you'll need it.

    Losien: Maybe I will!

    Losien taps a few buttons on her communicator wristwatch. Rachel blinks, then watches out of curiosity. A hologram of Gebohq, Losien's brother and former main character, appears out of the wristwatch.

    Gebohq: Hello? Los! I, uh, wasn't expecting a call so quick.

    Losien: I've gotten into a fistfight with Rachel - what do I do?

    Gebohq: Uh... get out of the fight?

    Losien: I don't want to be a sissy coward like you, brother. No offense.

    Gebohq: I didn't mean run away, I mean stop trying to fight her.

    Losien: Is this because of your thing with Rachel, Geb? Because if it is, I have to say I never approved--

    Gebohq: I mean you're not much of a main character if you're fighting your teammates. Not a heroic one, anyway.

    Losien: But--but--she started it--

    Gebohq: You're better than that. You've got a job to do, so get to it, without my help if you can. And Rachel? Stop picking on my sister.

    Rachel: Yes, my sweet love!

    With that, the hologram disappears, and everyone else groans in disappointment.

    Otter: Stupid Geb and his killing the fun...

    Al Ciao: I feel like I'm forgetting something. Something about Geb helping... oh, I'm sure it's nothing important.

    (Non-Story Note: Time to do my own posting spree!)

  16. #1336
    Almost strangely on cue, the present-day heroes of NeS notice the historically-stout and sanity-challenged Krig the Viking of page 7 seem to take notice of the group. However, it is just cruel coincidence that the following played out:
    Quote Originally Posted by Krig the Viking View Post
    Krig looked around at the dramatic scene which had been stalled for the last several posts.

    Krig: "When something gonna happen? Krig bored."
    The no-nonsense and bloodthirsty swordsman, Soriel, gestures towards the memory image of the viking.

    Soriel: It's reassuring to see that, even back then, a fellow warrior recognized how absurd the lot of you can be.

    Losien: Us absurd? You were crying for blood as much as everyone else just a moment ago!

    Soriel: That's different. A fight is interesting; blathering banter is not.

    Losien heaves a resigned sigh and turns her attention back towards the horizons of Memory Lane, seeing if she could find its end, or its beginning...

  17. #1337
    Losien seems to wander down Memory Lane, turning the surroundings into a sort of blurry brightness, as if a fog had set in over them. Most of the others glance about in annoyance, particularly the mousy thief, Benjamin Mahir.

    Benjamin Mahir: These "story conventions" are getting on my nerves. Do we have to deal with all this meta-****?

    The battle-aged former Soviet spy known as The Last True Evil drops a hand on Ben's shoulder.

    The Last True Evil: Only so long as we pay attention to it.

    The blue-haired and pregnant princess, Young, turns to Benjamin.

    Young: We could go back to character development.

    Benjamin Mahir: You mean "acting like normal people" - just say that! And as tempting as that is, I think I've had my fill of you all attempting that.

    Losien stops in her tracks, and the scene coalesces only a few moments further, with the historical-memories of the past still set in Stonehenge. The eternally-alcoholic Otter pulls his bowler hat back upon seeing the scene.

    Otter: Ah, I remember this! A better time, when I was still given some ounce of respect...
    Quote Originally Posted by TheOtter View Post
    As everyone stands there frightened, the punk-posh British-turned-druid known as The Otter gets an idea.

    Otter: "Oh yeah I forgot."

    The Otter waves his hands around and sends the demon that had terrorized them all through a vortex. Everyone sighs in relief. A moment later, a thought crossed the mind of the hippie girl-turned-cleric, Maybechild.

    Maybe: "Uh..Otter? Where exactly DID you send the demon?"

    Otter: " tell ya the truth I don't really know..."

    The space-pirate-turned-thief, Antestarr, throws his hands up.

    Antestarr: "Oh well thats just fuqing great! You don't even know WHERE you teleport people! What the heck are you gonna do next tel--"

    The Otter interrupts Antestarr with a gesture towards the still-open vortex and an evil grin.

    Otter: "Would like to find out WHERE he went, Ante?"

    Ante: "Uh...heheh... That's, uh, quite alright."

    Otter: "Alright then. Lets leave it @ that then."

    He then closes the vortex. Change scenes to a Canadian Parliement hearing.

    Head Barrister: "Would the real gentleman from Saskatchewan please stand up, please stand up. They really need to fix that echo problem."

    Man from Saskatchewan: "Yes, thank you sir. I would like to bring to attention line 47 of paragraph 8 of the Candian Constitution which states that under certain conditions a Canadian citizen can hunt beaver during the mon--"

    He is interrupted by giggling. He fumes and points accusingly towards the gigglers.

    Man from Saskatchewan: "Prince Edward Island! New Brunswick! What seems to be so funny?"

    The man from Prince Edward Island and the man from New Brunswick look at each other and start to giggle again. This only makes the man from Saskatchewan angrier.

    Man from Saskatchewan: "Well?! What is it?"

    Man from Prince Edward Island: "Its just that you uh said,(man from New Brunswick starts to laugh again)...'beaver'.

    The whole Parliement starts to roar in laughter except for the angry man from Saskatchewan and the man from Quebec that accidentally left his ear translator at home.

    Man from Quebec: "QuŠ? Je c'est con bleu? Saque pon le bute!"

    Suddenly, a vortex appears on the floor and the demon is thrown out of it. The man from Quebec stands up.

    Man from Quebec: "Je se con le 'BEAVER'!"

    The demon cocks his head at the man from Quebec who is laughing hysterically. The demon then points his finger at him, instantly exploding him in a flame of fire.

    Everyone in Parliement starts to clap.

    Smiling Head Barrister takes off wig and places it on demon's head. The demon looks around and grins.

    [i]The scene then flashes back to The Otter, who stands oozing with charisma in front of an awe-struck Gebohq, Antestarr, Semievil, and Krig the Viking. Maybechild throws herself at the Otter's side.

    Maybechild: "You were amazing, Otter! Let's make love, right now!

    The Otter adjusts his sunglasses knowingly.

    Otter: "Not in front of the boys, my dear."

    Semievil: "I must be a million-years old, and I'll still never be the man you are!"
    Rachel: That last part most certainly didn't happen!

    Otter: It sure as bloody hell did! You weren't there! You can't say nothin'!

    Amal: How did you remember an event in the Canadian Parliament when you weren't there?

    Otter: I 'unno! Something about making a better story. Old man! Tell 'em it was true!

    The venerable and wise old man, Master Thand, simply studied the scene before him.

    Master Thand: To think, the nation of Canada fell forever into the heart of Hell because of the whims of these men and women.

    Otter: Well?

    Master Thand turns his attention to the Otter.

    Master Thand: I find it fascinating to observe my former student, Antestarr, involve himself so passionately into these affairs. It must pain him not to have the health to involve himself here, with Young.

    Rachel: See? Master Thand agrees with me - you made it all up, Otter!

    Otter: So what if I remembered it differently? I'll choose to remember it how I want!

    Losien: At this rate, we'll never stop Knowsoul in time!

    Master Thand: Patience, young heroine. This quest will not be won with swiftness. That was your brother's strength. You must use your own strength.

    Losien: You're not going to tell me what that is, are you?

    A hint of a smile cracks his lips.

    Master Thand: We each have our parts to play.

    Losien: Right. Alright, everyone, get back to reminiscing!
    Last edited by Gebohq; 05-08-2012 at 01:44 AM.

  18. #1338
    As the leading lady, Losien, stirs a command, the others mostly stand idle, scratching their heads.

    Benjamin Mahir: I wasn't exactly around during this time. Not for quite a while yet.

    Maeve: Neither was I.

    The Last True Evil: I hadn't taken an active role until at least ten pages from this point.

    Amal: I don't think any of us were around at this point.

    Otter: I was!

    Rachel: Nobody wants anymore of your revised editions.

    Otter: Bah.

    Young: Some of us could probably gather an idea of things that happened. We are working with memory aids.

    Al Ciao: If I recall, Losien, you yourself didn't join the group until a couple pages from this point. What were you doing during this time?

    Losien: Well...

    As on cue, the scenery changes to a memory which may or may not have occurred around page seven of the Never-ending Story...
    Meanwhile (NeS count: 4), back at the ranch--

    Random Audience Member: Isn't that cliche a bit much, even for this story?

    Yes, and I'm just telling it as it is. As it so happens, this scene takes place on a ranch in the middle of North and East Liberty, Iowa, which the residents, Gebohq's family, affectionately call the "Nest."

    Random Audience Member: That's even worse.

    Moving on, inside the ranch house, a young and beautiful female face is nearly glued to the television set, shoving cheese and crackers into her face and watching a familiar group of NeS heroes battling it out in Stonehenge on Pay-Per-View. The girl happens to be Losien, Gebohq's younger-by-a-hundred-and-five seconds sister.

    Losien: Watch out, big brother! Yes! That was awesome! I should go visit him and help out!

    Losien receives a swift smack to the head from her rolling-pin mother.

    Losien: Ow!

    Mother: How many times have I told you not to start expositioning in front of the T.V.? You're not to be a hero or a character like your brother, you hear?

    Losien: I know I could never be as good as him, Mom...

    Mother: That's right.

    Losien: ...I just wanted to, you know, go visit him, maybe...

    Mother: You'd just get in the way, honey. Just keep your homely self here, at home. You've got your own responsibilities here, children to teach, dull and repetitive tasks that are too boring to even mention.

    Losien: Yes, mother...
    The present-day heroes stare at Losien with concern.

    Losien: ...Let's not look anymore into that. In fact, let's not look into anymore of my life ever again. I'm a hundred percent sure this was never part of the story anyway. It's just distracting us from finding the lost source of the NeS before Knowsoul does. Time to change the scene already, something funny, something zany, yup.

    Holy cow! What's going to happen next? Or rather, what will have already happened that our heroes will remember next? Will Gebohq the Writer be stealing the posting streak?

    Gebohq the Writer: Nope. I'm going back into staring at the gaping maw that is NeS Notes again.

    Oh. Well... in any case, keep checking in for another nostalgic installment of The Never-ending Story Thread Squared!
    Last edited by Gebohq; 05-08-2012 at 01:46 AM.

  19. #1339
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    Talking The Sporkus Malorkis!

    TLTE: I should learn much about my beloved Losien from these flashbacks, assuming that there are many more to be seen.

    Benjamin Mahir: And I will continue to have my faith in reality shaken by all this story convention nonsense...

    Losien: Wait a minute. I feel like something is wrong here. Something is seriously... wrong.

    Losien stares at Benjamin Mahir and then the love of her life. She suddenly reaches out, as though she knew exactly what was about to happen.

    Jason Statham: Right, you two. You're nicked!

    The two Continuity Police Officers, both of which look suspiciously like Jet Li and Jason Statham from their roles in "The One" where they police the multiverse-

    Jason Statham: Does it really matter? We're awesome action movie stars! Let's just get this done.

    Jet Li: Right!

    Before Losien could grab TLTE the two police officers have vanished, along wiith TLTE and Benjamin Mahir.

    Losien: Now I remember...


    Britt the Writer: What did you do!?

    Gebohq the Writer: Wha-!?

    Gebohq the Writer snaps awake from his desk, a random page of the NeS glued to his face. Britt the Writer has stormed into Gebohq's office and stands poised with a harpoon gun.

    Gebohq the Writer: What the crap!? A harpoon-gun!!!?

    Britt the Writer: Needed it for hunting sharks in the jungle.

    Gebohq the Writer: Sharks... in the jungle?

    The spear of the gun comes closer to Gebohq the Writer's head.

    Britt the Writer: Are you sure you want to contest my jungle experiences right now?

    Gebohq the Writer: Okay fine. Jungle sharks. At least tell me why you're aiming this gun at my head.

    Britt the Writer: Did you even read my posts?

    Gebohq the Writer: Uh... sort of.

    Britt the Writer: ...

    Gebohq the Writer: Well there were so many of them and they were so long and you had so much happening that I often fell asleep reading them. So I had to skim read.

    Britt the Writer: You created a massive plot-hole, you know that? TLTE and Benjamin Mahir weren't part of the group. Benjamin Mahir turned out to be The Illusionist and she kidnapped TLTE because Losien is now the main character.

    Gebohq the Writer: Ah... I see. That's why seemed not to say anything in most of your dialogue. Wait... neither did Young. Where's she?

    Britt the Writer: Uh...

    Gebohq the Writer: You forgot her didn't you?

    Britt the Writer: Uh...

    Gebohq the Writer: So we're both guilty. Please remove your harpoon.

    Britt the Writer complies dejectedly and slumps down into the armchair opposite Gebohq's desk.

    Britt the Writer: It's these weaker characters... Losien and Young. They're just... so weak. I mean personality-wise. As far as the women of the NeS go they're either super sassy or weak-willed girls. I think I made Maeve and Rachel interesting and different to each other but it means I forget the likes of Losien and Young.

    Gebohq the Writer: Britt, here is the best piece of advice I ever gave myself. And this applies to life not just the NeS...

    Gebohq the Writer leans forward on his desk with an intent look of wisdom on his face.

    Gebohq the Writer: Think of the boobs, Britt! Think of the boobs!!!

    Silence fills the room.


    The Otter: Why the Hell were Jason Statham and Jet Li here?

    Arkng Thand: Continuity Police. They correct the continuum of the NeS.

    The Otter: Why have I never seen them before? Usually it's just plot-holes.

    Arkng Thand: Apparently someone got bored of plot-holes.

    Al Ciao: Such as wise Writer...

    Losien: Not to mention that those plot-holes are probably going to consume the NeS one day. Hence page 50, right?

    Maeve: Can we change the topic of conversation? Page 50 brings back bad memories.

    Amal: Perhaps we should try paying attention to the Historical Events that we're meant to be watching?

    *The daring companions stare at the newest threat to their very existances. The duckies rear back and the lasers begin to glow menacingly. Suddenly, they fire... then stop, inches from the party.*

    Geb: What a foolish editor! He put a friggin one way force field between us and the lasers!

    *The party gives a sigh of relief. Ante, spotting a convenient mass of boulders strung up by a flimsy net hanging above the duckies, tosses a dagger up to cut the net. The duckies are crushed in the sudden landslide.*

    Maybe: Well, I guess we can go on now. Let's climb the boulders to that ornately decorated door with the sign above it that says "This way to the sword".
    Soriel: Wow. This adventuring stuff seems so much easier back then. Why can't we have signs to where we're supposed to go?

    Amal: I suppose it's because we don't go around collecting random artefacts anymore. We kind of make do with the trash we have.

    Maeve: Trash?

    The Otter: He means rubbish.

    Maeve: Ah.

    Al Ciao: Get a translator, Maeve. We shouldn't have to commodate your foreign language.

    All: OK!

    Ante: Just who did design this level, anyway?

    *A neon sign on the wall brightly proclaims "designed by Semievil333"*

    Sem: Um... Ok... I was young, inexperienced, and drunk. So sue me.

    *Resisting the urge to call their lawyers, the rest continue on through the doorway towards what they seek. They enter a room with lighting shining on a single spot. In this spot is a case. In this case is a strangely decorated weapon, with the end consisting of a curved bowl-like scoop with four prongs protruding from the end.*

    Tusk: Oops... we found the not-so-legendary "Sporkus Malorkus"...
    Amal: They found the what?

    Losien: Sporkus Malorkus...

    She gives Amal a worried look. She had always thought the NeS seemed fairly insane, however she had never comes across anything quite so... so... innane.

    Losien: Why do they even want this thing?

    The Oterr: We were on a quest for something else entirely.

    Losien: Which was?

    The Otter: The Porkus Malorkis!

    Losien: ...

    The Otter: By your silence, I assume you are awe-struck?

    Soriel: Why would you want this Porkus sword? What powers does it possess?

    The Otter: If I remember rightly it... turns you into a pig.

    Soriel: ... right.

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Hey, Soriel. Check out how awesome Losien's boobs are. They're like... amazing.

    Soriel: Please do not draw my attention to Losien's breasts.

    Everyone Else: ...

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Well done, fella.

    Losien stares, shocked and embarassed, at the ground.


    Britt the Writer: That was so you.

    Gebohq the Writer: I am so ashamed.

  20. #1340
    Tea-sipper, character-killer


    Geb:"You people can't see past your noses. I lead this group, and I'm gonna prove it!"

    Geb grabs the Malorkus, and promptly turns into a pig.

    The Otter: Ah, that was my favourite moment in all of NeS History. The moment Gebohq moved himself as our leader...

    Losien: Are you being sarcastic?

    The Otter: No?

    Maeve: Liar. So Gebohq turned into a pig? That'll be an interesting topic of conversation to have with him when we eventually see him again.

    The Otter: I wonder if he could find truffles...

    Being the only woman and therefore the only one w/ enough brains in the group, Maybe rolls her eyes and mutters something from a small prayer book, which turns Geb back into a person. She then snatches the Malorkus away from the shocked paladin and grumbles something about "typical men". Then she turs to the rest of the guys.

    Maybe: "you guys keep this up and I'm gonna lead the friggin group. jeez, you might think we were actually ORGANIZED enough to have a leader..."

    Sem: "Uh, Maybe, have you noticed anything?"

    Maybe: "huh?"

    Otter: "She didn't turn into a pig!"

    Maybe: "oh..." suddenly becomes giddy "OH! GROOVY!"

    Ante: "Uh-oh..."
    Amal: Wow... does this mean MaybeChilde was the rightful main character of the NeS all along?

    Maeve: It would explain why so much crap seems to always happen to us under Gebohq's leadership.

    The Otter: Plus Maybe is totally hot!

    Losien hides her sad face.

    Soriel: She cannot be the main character. She isn't here. Which suggests to me we have already found our true main character, right here.

    Amal: Yeah. I think you're right Soriel.

    Amal smiles at Losien and she brightens a little, glancing between Soriel and Amal. Soriel wasn't Losien's favourite party member but she had to confess he didn't seem to be the type to say something just to be nice, so his thoughts were genuine. Maeve's arm appears around Losien's shoulders.

    Maeve: Don't worry about it, Losien. I'm not entirely convinced that it's a pre-destined thing as far as the NeS is concerned. Anyone could have ended up as our main character but, at present, it chose you.

    Al Ciao: I told you she was gay.

    The Otter: God, I hope so. Losien and Maeve? NOM NOM NOM!

    Rachel: I feel the urge for the old frying pan.

    The Otter: I thought that was just used for Powerplayers?

    Al Ciao reflexively covers his head.

    Rachel: I'm sure I can bend the rules to include a hideous letch.

    The Otter: I'm hideous?

    Amal: I've just thought, where's Young? Wasn't she here?


    In the Writer's Realm...

    Gebohq the Writer: Don't you dare, Britt.

    Britt the Writer: What?

    Gebohq the Writer: No retcon!!

    Britt the Writer: What? I thought it would be a funny bit of meta...

    Gebohq the Writer: No meta!!!

    Britt the Writer: But that's half my jokes!!

    Gebohq the Writer: Well you got your meta joke with this bit of dialogue. Get in there and give a good reason for her to leave...

    Britt the Writer grumbles...


    Young: I'm right here. Sorry I've been so quiet. I'm not feeling very well. Mother is telling me... telling me that my child is due soon.

    Soriel: I knew having a pregnant woman with us was a bad idea.

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: You should have got in there sooner, Soriel my old chum.

    Soriel: Is there nothing you won't stoop too?

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Animals.

    Soriel: What?

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: I wouldn't shag an animal!

    Soriel: OMFG!! You disgust me! Although, now that I think about it, why would that make a difference to you? You're already a sword and thus non-human...

    Losien: Uh... if you've finished speaking to your sword, Soriel. Perhaps you should return to the HHH, Young? At least there you could get an ambulance.

    The Otter: Plus I've heard watching a birth puts a man off women for the rest of his life...

    Maeve: Maybe you could stop being so selfish for one moment Otter? I agree with Losien, it would be safer for you back at the HHH.

    Young: Very well. I will go and be with Gebohq until the baby arrives. I will be on hand with Gebohq if you need my help.

    Rachel: Yeah, you've certainly proven to be useful these last posts...

    Arkng Thand: Sarcasm doesn't become you Rachel.

    Rachel: Honestly, I rather fancy that it does. Suits my personality perfectly.

    Young: I'll see you all soon.


    Back in the HHH Gebohq is sat in the basement room with the Main Cast of Characters, who are all stood staring at the projector on the far wall. The opposite side of the room is the wardrobe and through which can be seen MZZT's own base of operations back in the clock-tower Big Ben. MZZT is sat at one of his computers and Gebohq is likewise on a laptop that he had brought down from upstairs.

    Young: I feel I should be doing more than watching you and MZZT playing online chess against each other...

    Gebohq: We could play Minesweep- Wait, what the Hell're you doing here?

    Young: I came back about half an hour ago...

    Gebohq: You did? Right... why?

    Young: I am heavily pregnant. It would be irresponsible to go on crazy adventures right now...

    Gebohq: Good point. Well, if you'll stand guard for a short while, I'll go drag a couch down the stairs and a TV and we can break out the Gamecube?

    Young: Wasn't that stolen by your evil counterparts a long time ago?

    Gebohq: Fuq.

    Young: Um... I should also mention that Mother told me my child will be born soon.

    Gebohq: ... ... ... ... ... ...

    Gebohq Gebs it out of the basement in a blind panic.
    Last edited by TheBritt; 05-10-2012 at 05:31 AM. Reason: Gebohq's anti-retcon ruling.

  21. #1341
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    Red face Totally Evil

    (before Maybe's last post)
    Geb the writer: Mmm..pork...
    Geb: Hey! Don't even think about it...

    *The others grumble as they put away their knives, frying pans, and "Pork, the other white meat" cookbooks.*

    Geb: I will use the power of the storywriter to change myself back....
    *Hanging on the corner of the cubicle that Geb the writer works at is a sign that says "Off to lunch"*
    Al Ciao: Is that a Writer!!!?

    Arkng Thand: Yes. That is Gebohq the Writer.

    Al Ciao: Oh my LORD!!

    Al Ciao throws himself to the ground outside the cubicle, despite the fact that Historical Gebohq the Writer is clearly out to lunch.

    Losien: Was this the first time that one of the Writers was introduced into the narrative itself?

    Arkng Thand: No, I don't believe so. However I do believe it's the first time that one was so clearly labelled as a separate entity than their characters and so plainly outside of the real world.

    Rachel: Do I really have to point out the "real world joke" again?

    Soriel: I've never seen a Writer before...

    Amal: Me neither. He seems so... so...

    Rachel: Stupid? He just went for lunch because his character turned into a pig.

    Maeve: Not to mention he made writing taboo and posted his post as a "before the other person's post happened". What a plonker.

    Al Ciao: How dare you insult one of the Great Writers!

    Maeve: Uh... plonker means someone really... cool. Yeah. Honest.

    Al Ciao: You lie! I see through your foreign tongue!

    Rachel: Why are you so bothered anyway? Didn't you like... merge with your Writer or something? You big Powerplaying sod.

    Al Ciao: Um... pass?

    The Cast of Characters were then pulled through white-space once again and finally left Page 7.

    Amal: That page seemed to last forever!

    Arkng Thand: More than one Writer, I would imagine. Plus they've been copy-pasting.

    Maeve: Lazy bast-

    Al Ciao: No blasphemy, non-believer!

    Rachel: I'm going to develop a new frying pan-style weapon to deal with your God-worshipping.

    The heroes emerge from the Warp-

    Losien: The what?

    Shut up. I'm just adding variety to the wording. So they emerge from the Warp and appear in Disneyland; the headquarters of Dr Evil and his daughter TotallyEvil. However the sight that they're greeted with is horrible. Krig the Viking forced to dance on a stage with ducks.

    Everyone: ARGH!!! MY EYES!!!

    Fortunately the scene quickly switches...

    *Finally, after much waiting in the line, the fighters decided they would simply yell "Free T-Shirts over there!" pointing away from the DisneyWORLD entrance (that's right, I never said Disneyland. They're more things in Disney World to do anywhos). The waiting crowd stampeded over in the general direction, and the fighters made their way in.*

    *The group then found the place empty, save the Viking show that was going on, and a Tower of Terror with three dark warriors were exiting from.*

    MaybeChilde: Time to end this, once and for all!

    TotallyEvil: Yes, you shall die indeed.

    *The two women faced off, as the guys started to imagine the fight in a mudpool, with them only wearing bikinis...

    And then it happened! MaybeChild and TotallyEvil roll around in the soft, pliable mud, slipping and sliding all over the place and each other. Then TotallyEvil, who is supremely dominant, pins MaybeChild in the mud and leans down to ki-
    Losien: Otter, please stop editing history.

    The Otter gives a grumpy sigh and folds his arms.

    Rachel: Did he steal Geb's crayons?

    Soriel: What really happened? I remember that war I fought in. I believe it started over this woman. This TotallyEvil.

    Arkng Thand: Ah, just like an old Greek myth. The best battles are often fought over women or honour.

    Soriel: Right... I wasn't really looking for an analysis...

    *Meanwhile, the seconds were counting down, and with only five seconds left, Maybe had tricked Totally into looking behind her, then jabbing the sword through her chest. Everyone began to run as after the timer went off, a small nuclear-liek explosion went off. The audience sees a white light, and when the light dims, we see a sun in a beautiful blue sky. The camera pans down to see...a pool! A large outdoor pool in a resort called "Atlantis", which had the motif of a ruined continent and looked strangly familiar to the JediKnight level.*
    Soriel: She... died!?

    Losien: And ... was Disneyland just blown up?

    Rachel: And what the Hell is a JediKnight level?

    Al Ciao: Rachel, Rachel, Rachel. You have much to learn about the fandoms you are subject to.

    Rachel: Not sure if that answered my question...

    Soriel: I distinctly recall our epic battle being held somewhere close to the borders of Disneyland... so how can it be destroyed?

    Maeve: Didn't the Narrator just tell us it was DisneyWorld and not Disneyland?

    Arkng Thand: I honestly believe that they are one and the same in the realm of the NeS. There must be some temporal annomaly that links the two regions together as one as the two are often referred to as being the same place by various Writers.

    Amal: I think the weight of a massive plot-hole just lifted off the universe.

    Soriel: Except we've discovered a whole new one. What happened here? How can it have been destroyed?

    *Krig, wandering in DisneyWORLD (geez, you guys still haven't caught on to that...I think you're doing it just to piss me, er..Geb the writer off), thinks to himself how much less magical the place looks when it looks like a huge crater, having had a nuclear-like explosion go off b/c of the self-desctruction of the Malorkus. Krig finds Totally, her upper body dangling from a portion of a broken off tower of Cinderella's Castle.*

    *Krig is quite confused now, because he thought he'd see Totally non-existant, yet he came wanting to destroy her, hurt his head too much to think about it. To his surprise, TotallyEvil began to move! Even with the malorkus still impaling her! She stands up, brushing herself off. Krig walks up to you.*

    Krig: Evil lady, you have to be dead!

    TotallyEvil: Just a flesh wound.
    Al Ciao: She's a zombie!? I did not know this!

    Maeve: I actually think it's just a parody of The Holy Grail. There are many Monty Python gags in the NeS.

    Losien: So she can't die? But I thought she did die and went to Hell?

    Arkng Thand: Best to wait and see if your questions are answered as we watch.

    Suddenly the world begins to jerk as though running through stop-motion badly. Random words appear above their heads one after the other that might have made a complete sentence had anyone been able to read them.

    One screen was bright white before the jerking text reappears. Most characters panic, or stare in wonder at the text. The Otter begins to dance, hoping for the strobe effect.

    When the strobe-jerk-text finally ends The Otter settles down after receiving several awkward stares.

    Soriel: What the Hell was that?

    Arkng Thand: It was one of those awful one-word-posts that some of the Writers would find entertaining.

    Losien: That was horrible. I hope it doesn't happen again!

    Rachel: You know the Writers love to rehash old gags!

    Losien: Was that whitenesss when she jumped a page in the middle of the strobe?

    Amal: I expect so! Welcome to Page 9!

    Sem gathers his ammo and wraps himself in his cloak. A storm gathers around him, and suddenly a crack of thunder, followed by 498 random explosions/gunshots (Geb should be able to figure that number out)


    Sem's cloak is now tattered and hangs a little more loosely.
    Sem pulls out the experimental laser gun for which there is still ammo, grabs all the remaining adventurers, and heads to disneyworld.

    Totally looks up at Sem charging his laser cannon.

    TotallyEvil: "You cannot defeat me with that pithy little pea shooter!"

    Sem shoots Totally who flies back into a wall and falls down. Sem continues until the wall is falling down and he is out of laser charges. He then grabs Maybe, slaps her hand on Totally's forhead, and watches Totally dissolve as the residual cleric aura seeps out of Maybe.

    SemiEvil: "And that! and that! and that! and THAT! HA!"(Geb looks at Sem oddly)"What!?!?"
    Losien: Did all of the old heroes just reappear in a fight with TotallyEvil?

    The Otter: I think so. If I remember rightly, she died so we had a swimsuit competition. Then Krig went and found her body. She ran away and then we all reappeared fighting her. In summary.

    Losien: Right. Either way, it's not too bad. I think plot-holes were narrowly avoided. And now we know how Totally died! Right?

    Master Thand gives Losien a pitying expression.

    Darkside, bored with the slow-motion madness that he had caused, suddenly halted it. He brooded silently as he slipped unnoticed among the crowd at Disneyworld.

    Krig ran through the dark and spooky corridors of the underbelly of Disneyworld. He passed numerous Mickey Mouses with their big giant heads off, but he didn't stop. He caught a glimpse of TotallyEvil dashing into a control booth for one of the rides. Krig's eyes widened.

    Krig: "Oh no! If Evil Lady go there, make boom, many kiddies die!"

    At that moment, Ares caught up with Krig, raging with fury that Krig had stolen his car and not missed numerous telephone poles.
    Soriel: Oh for crying out loud! This woman!

    Suddenly a wretched screech is heard from one of the stages. Parts of Totally's now largely disfigured body have been found. Surprisingly the head is still in-tact.

    Krig: "Evil-type person dead? Krig not have excuse for wreaking kar? Krig in deep doo-doo."
    Losien: Right... so now she's definitely dead. And not coming back? Well, not until much, much later right? Right? She is dead at this point?
    Last edited by TheBritt; 05-10-2012 at 10:01 AM.

  22. #1342
    Virgin Fleet Admiral
    In the World of Writercraft...

    Geb The Editor and Britt the Writer stand just outside Al Ciao the Writer's cubicle. The sounds of video game explosions and death yells heard over the past several months have died down, and have been replaced with intermittent bursts of hysterical laughter. Geb the Editor has slipped a little eyecam on a wire over the top edge of the cubicle, giving him a bird's eye view of Al Ciao the Writer's mad cackling. Tensely, Britt the Writer looks at Geb the Editor.

    Britt the Writer: So... what's happened? Has he finally... cracked?

    Geb the Editor: Don't be silly. He cracked years ago.

    He stares intently into the tiny monitor receiving the feed from the tiny cam, attempting to focus on the 72" inch monitor that serves as Al Ciao the Writer's computer screen. Geb exhales his breath in a sudden hiss.

    Geb the Editor: My God...

    Britt the Writer: What? What?

    Geb the Editor: He's... he's laughing at your spree of posts!

    Britt the Writer: You mean - he's following the NeS again??!!

    They stare at each other, dumbfounded. Finally, Britt the Writer breaks the silence.

    Britt the Writer: Do you think... he'll start writing again?

    Geb the Editor: Yes. The laziness is strong with this one.

    Britt the Writer: Er... wouldn't that mean that he won't write?

    Geb the Editor: If only that were so. Nope, it means that he'll write... but he'll completely ignore any attempts to make a cognizant post...

    They stare at each other in horror.


    In a mysterious, far away place, a dainty damsel in desperate distress screams in terror.

    TLTE: I am *not* a damsel, dainty or otherwise. And I've gotten out of worse places in my sleep. Unarmed. With unclipped toenails.

    The Illusionist: ...unclipped...?

    TLTE: You have NO idea how hard it is to play a piano with unclipped toenails, do you?

    The Illusionist: Why would you play a piano with your toenails? What kind of "worse place" would even require you to play a piano at all?

    TLTE gets a far away look in his eye.

    TLTE: It involves what the best stories involve. A bet. A she-devil in high heels. And an overstock of Pepto-Bismol.

    The Illusionist: ...

    TLTE: Nevermind. What really concerns me about this whole damsel thing...

    Illusionist: Yeah?

    TLTE: Did you really have to put me in a pink dress?

    Illusionist: It's called irony. And a Chekhov's Gun, since that was joked about earlier. Actually, it's sort of a double Chekhov's Gun, since the concept of Chekhov's Gun was mentioned about the same time, too. So it would be a META Checkhov's Gun.

    TLTE: I thought meta jokes were Britt the Writer's meat and drink, not Al Ciao the Writer's?

    The Illusionist throws him an odd look.

    Illusionist: How can you tell who's writing?

    TLTE: Britt the Writer is funny.

    Illusionist: ...

    A notion suddenly strikes TLTE. Or it would have, if he hadn't intercepted its punch and sent it spinning away with a roundhouse kick.

    TLTE: Say, didn't they say earlier that you're only a henchman? You must have a master?

    Illusionist: Indeed.

    TLTE: So who's your master?

    Illusionist: I cannot say.

    TLTE: Oh, one of those types who never lets you see his face? You gotta learn to read body language, it's the bane of secret identities.

    Illusionist: I cannot say.

    A light dawns on TLTE.

    Illusionist: Say, that's a nice sunrise framing your head behind you.

    TLTE: Say - you don't HAVE a villainous master now, do you?

    Illusionist: Erm...

    TLTE: It's just been thrown up in the air that you have one, right? The Writers plan to decide later and retcon it in?

    The Illusionist flounders for an answer, which is all the answer TLTE needs. He rips away the pink dress in one smooth motion, revealing black body armor under a trenchcoat underneath. His Soviet officer's blade, forged in the fires of metafiction, gleams at his side, and his favored semi-automatic is in his hand as if by magic.

    TLTE: I have a history of villainy. I demand that you obey me.

    Illusionist: But... you're not a villain anymore.

    TLTE favors the Illusionist with a small, slightly sinister smile.

    TLTE: Think about it. That sounds like something a villain would say, doesn't it?

    Illusionist: Well...

    TLTE: Silence, worm! You're a henchman. You're not paid to think.

    Illusionist: But you just said--

    TLTE: Are you questioning me?!

    The Illusionist cowers before TLTE's commanding presence.

    Illusionist: N-no, sir.

    TLTE: Then imitate the mageling and teleport us to the HHH.

    Illusionist: Gesundheit.

    TLTE: No! The triple-H!

    Illusionist: I didn't know you were a wrestling fan, sir.

    TLTE blinks very slowly. Once. Twice. Thrice. Sweat breaks out on the Illusionist's brow, and fear inspires competence.

    Illusionist: Yes, sir. Right away, sir.

    His form flickers briefly into that of Cool Matty's, a haze of insubstantial blue fire surrounds them--

    And they stay exactly where they are. TLTE fixes his new henchman with a well-practiced mastermind's stare. The Illusionist gulps.

    Illusionist: I- I'm sorry, sir. There seems to be some sort of interference. Perhaps from an established portal already there?

    TLTE: *groans* MZZT. Even when he does something right, he messes things up. Alright, form up, henchman! We're off to the 8th dimension!
    Last edited by Al Ciao; 05-17-2012 at 09:02 AM.

  23. #1343
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    Talking Blast from the Past

    Back on Memory Lane the group are still dwelling on TotallyEvil; especially The Otter who has a much stronger, and well-practiced, imagination than the rest of the NeS Heroes.

    Losien: Um... Otter, are you okay? Is that... drool?

    Amal: I think he requires either a) a slap or b) a bucket of cold water.

    Rachel: He'll get both if I have anything to do with it...

    Maeve: Why are we dwelling on TotallyEvil exactly? Can't we just move on? I mean, unless Otter's fantasy appears before us I can't say I'm fond of thinking of her mangled body for much longer...

    Al Ciao: Was that Freudian slip? Do you want to see Otter's imaginations of TotallyEvil?

    Maeve: Yes.

    Al Ciao: Whoa!?

    Al Ciao covers his nose as blood suddenly drips from it. Maeve just watches him with a blank expression that makes her answer to his question difficult to make a final decision upon its meaning.

    Soriel: Maybe you should just come out of the closet Maeve?

    Maeve: Didn't we all do that when we came from the HoH to the HHH?

    Soriel: You know what I mean.

    Fred, Teh Uber: She better bloody not!

    Soriel: Wait, I thought you'd like the idea of lesbians?

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: I like the idea of bi-sexuals, not outright lezbos.

    Soriel: Why?

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Bi-sexual gals means there's room of us men in their hot-hot antics. Outright gay means we're left out in the cold with nothing but our imaginations.

    Soriel: I admire your knowledge of sex, blade.

    Maeve: I'm sure all of the men say that to their swords...

    Losien: I'm not so sure this is an avenue of conversation we should be exploring...

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: I'll explore your avenue, baby!

    Soriel: And you ruined it.

    Amal: So why were we still hung up on TotallyEvil? Anyone else and I think we'd just move on.

    Arkng Thand: I believe there is a little more to her story, Amal. Something that is about to be told...

    A scene unravels before our heroes; a pristine laboratory with all kind of strange experiments in jars. First a foetus of a platypus, then a foetus of an Alien from the movies, then a foetus that looks suspiciously like SemiEvil.

    Speaking of whom, sitting upon a table is a young SemiEvil. All skin and bones, the boy already looks skeletal and alien-like. Next to him is the younger TotallyEvil who looks like an everyday little girl. Dr Evil, looking much younger, is still in a wheelchair and is sitting in front of his two children.

    SemiEvil: Where's our mummy, daddy?

    Dr Evil: Well, your mother was a little glass test tube my son.

    SemiEvil: Really?

    SemiEvil looks as though he's going to well up with tears. TottallyEvil, however, appears unperturbed.

    TotallyEvil: You're such a baby, Sem. You're older than me but you're always crying. I should have you cryogenically frozen until you learn to act your age.

    Dr Evil: I couldn't have put it better myself! I'm so proud of you my evil daughter!

    SemiEvil appears even more distraught and upset, casting his big bug-eyes down to the shiny floor.

    Dr Evil: It's just a shame only SemiEvil got the look I was going for when I made you both. I should have inserted more Alien DNA into your formula. Maybe kangaroo. Kangaroo DNA would be good.

    TotallyEvil: But father, I can use my pretty face to lull our foes into a false sense of security and then ultimately betray them by feeding them to our pet sharks!

    Dr Evil: How wicked you are, girl! It's fantastic! SemiEvil, pay attention to your little sister. You could learn something!

    SemiEvil: But I don't really want to be that evil, daddy!

    Dr Evil: And that's why you're Semi-Evil and not Totally-Evil. Now, I'm going to put in a bid on Disneyland-

    TotallyEvil: Disneyworld father.

    Dr Evil: -don't correct me, Totally. You don't want to be my secretary, do you?

    TotallyEvil: No father!

    Dr Evil: Good. I always end up killing them after a couple of weeks of being corrected over the names of things. Last one kept telling me the name of my cat is Morris!

    TotallyEvil: What is his name, father?

    Dr Evil: No idea. Whatever came into my head at the time. Point is, don't correct me. Doesn't matter what the name of the stupid thing is. Now, Semi, why don't you take your sister to the torture chamber and she can show you how to use the laser beam to sever someone in half.
    Losien: Now I feel bad for her. She was just responding to parental pressure. It's all Dr Evil's fault.

    The Otter: Yeah, it's no wonder SemiEvil was always so messed up in the head. I wonder where his fascination of duct tape came from?

    Losien: Actually I think that's one mystery I'd rather leave unsolved to be honest. After hearing something about a torture chamber, I think I'd rather not know.

    Maeve: I thought test tube babies still needed a woman to donate her eggs?

    The Otter: Mmmm...

    Maeve: Seriously, you need to find an outlet, Otter.

    Losien: Maybe Dr Evil found a way to make them without eggs?

    Amal: Maybe it was that Alien or kangaroo we heard him talking about?

    Rachel: Maybe this is another Chekov's Gun to be answered later?

    Amal: Or it's another Chekov's Gun that's being left wide-open to see if another Writer picks up the bait and explores that particular avenue.

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: I'll explore your- wait... it's a dude.

    Soriel: You know, men have avenues too?

    Everyone else stares at Soriel with shock and horror.

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Gross...


    Al Ciao the Writer has gone back to being lazy and is sitting around on his PC staring at MSN, waiting for someone to talk to him. Anyone...

    Al Ciao the Writer: Anybody? Please...?

    Suddenly the new message sound activates! Plickity-bum.

    Britt the Writer's Message: j0

    Al Ciao the Writer's Message: ... yo.

    Britt the Writer's Message: Did you really think I left that Chekov's Gun moment wide open for someone else to pick up? Did you think I really didn't have any plan for that?

    Al Ciao the Writer's Message: Uh... you mean SemiEvil's mother?

    Britt the Writer's Message: Wait, how the Hell did you even know about that? I'm currently typing up that post as we speak!?

    Al Ciao the Writer's Message: Gebohq left that spycam thing sticking through my door.

    Britt the Writer's Message: The bloody idiot. Wait, you're using it to spy on me!? There are women out there, you know?

    Al Ciao the Writer's Message: No time for women! I have to write for the NeS!!!

    Britt the Writer's Message: Which you only do when you're not playing Skyrim or something... *grumble*

    Al Ciao the Writer's Message: You know you just typed that you grumbled at me?

    Britt the Writer's Message: Anyway! I'm about to prove I am a man with a plan and I shall reveal the mmastermind behind TLTE's kidnap!!

    Al Ciao the Writer's Message: Way to ruin my post. But fine. So... who's SemiEvil's mom?

    Britt the Writer's Message: You mean his mum? I have no idea, I left that one wide open...

    Al Ciao the Writer's Message: Did you just use your foreign British language on me again?

    Britt the Writer's Message: This running gag has got to come to an end...

    The outer door to the complex bursts open as TLTE's boot crashes against the flimsy wood.

    The Illusionist (as CM): You know that wasn't locked? You could have just opened it?

    TLTE: I am your master now, boy, you cannot judge me! Uh... wait, you are a man right?

    The Illusionist (as CM): At present I am.

    TLTE: That's not what I meant. Doesn't matter. Now, I know there's that portal in the HoH we could use. Or there's the far more reliable and proven to be safe method of Russian airlines.

    The Illusionist (as CM): There's no way I'm getting on one of those. The last time they were referenced in the narrrative the plane landed on a building! And I was on the bloody plane!

    TLTE: You were?

    The Illusionist (as CM): I was disguised as the Gap-Toothed Old Man and was acquainted with Al Ciao's arrival in the NeS.

    TLTE: Right. Whatever. So-

    Voice: Did you honestly think you could escape me... again?

    TLTE: I know that voice...

    TLTE and The Illusionist, who is disguised as Cool-Matty, are stood in front of a squat building in the bright light of the sun. The rooms that The Illusionist had him imprisoned in were part of an underground complex so the outer building was little more than a single-storey hunt. However, as the pair of them turn at the sound of the voice they see a group of people stood atop of the hut with one young man at the lead.

    Michael McFarlane: You should. You killed me once.

  24. #1344
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    Talking The Truly Forgotten

    Geboq the Writer: Did you just end it there so that you could finish on a cool cliff-hanger?

    Britt the Writer: Yes...

    Gebohq the Writer: ... I'm proud of you, son.

    Britt the Writer: Uh... right.


    TLTE: Michael? How is this possible?

    The Illusionist (as CM): Oooh. Now I remember. This is the bloke that asked me to kidnap you, matey.

    TLTE: I guessed.

    Michael McFarlane: And your question is exactly why I'm here. How is this possible you ask? You forget so quickly. I am... always forgotten! I am only remembered when I am needed to fulfill a role. When I am needed to be the villain? When I am not, I am gone from the heart of the NeS. I have been forgotten twice TLTE! TWICE!!

    TLTE: Now I remember... you came back. You returned from the grave and rejoined the heroes at the HHH, didn't you?

    Michael McFarlane: You remembered did you? Only ten or so pages too late! I came back from the dead... I don't know how. But I couldn't remember anything. Nothing about our fight over Losien. But then... then I was cast into darkness once again. I heard my name on the lips of all those Forgotten characters of the NeS. All those left behind and they knew my name. I found their camp. They had a new leader, this Twin Suns. The Forgotten One. I spit on him and them. It is I who is The Forgotten. I am The Truly Forgotten! To be forgotten once is bad enough but when you have been forgotten twice... all thosse memories returned to me and you know who I blame for all of this?

    TLTE: Let me guess. Me.

    Michael McFarlane: I did... but then I thought about it... why? Why blame you? Did you steal her from me? Or did she let you steal her? She chose you over me. It's her fault. It is Losien who will suffer and that is why you are here.

    TLTE: If you touch her I'll-

    Michael McFarlane: Illusionist.

    The Illusionist grabs TLTE by his upper arm and he is instantly incapacitated.

    TLTE: What the-!? How?

    The Illusionist (as CM): You're a damsel, remember?

    TLTE: Borscht! Illusionist, I am your master, remember? I command you to let me go!

    Michael McFarlane: Ignore him and take him below.

    TLTE: No! Listen to me! I am The Last True Evil! What's he? Michael McLongname?

    Michael McFarlane: McFarlane, jerkoff.

    TLTE: That doesn't sound like a villain's name does it? It sounds like... a Marty McFly style character! He's more of a good guy than me.

    The Illusionist (as CM): Uh...
    Last edited by TheBritt; 05-13-2012 at 11:39 AM.

  25. #1345
    Virgin Fleet Admiral
    Al Ciao the Writer is looking through Geb's eyecam around the cubicles. The eyecam peeps up from his cubicle like a periscope, not unlike Artoo-Detoo when submerged in liquid.

    Geb the Editor: AL!!

    Al Ciao the Writer starts guiltily, and turns the eyecam to see his editor come stomping down the aisle. Hurriedly, he pulls the eyecam down and thrusts it into a desk drawer, just as Geb the Editor darkens the pitiful-excuse-for-a-doorway of the cubicle.

    Geb the Editor: Al! *levels finger at him* Did you just make a copyright infringement?

    Al Ciao the Writer: What? That wasn't written in the story, that was real-- er, sort-of real life! How do you read that?

    Geb the Editor: Did. You. Just. Infringe. Copyright.

    Al Ciao the Writer: Erm...

    Geb the Editor: Not just a copyright infringement, but one that refers to the ancient roots of our honored story, a root that we departed (p)AGES ago!

    Al Ciao the Writer: Whoa - I can hear the (p) in AGES. How do you even SAY that?

    Geb the Editor: Don't change the subject! Yes or no?

    Al Ciao the Writer gulps.

    Al Ciao the Writer: Um... yes?

    Geb the Editor's face lights up.

    Geb the Editor: Well done, m'boy! It's been far too long since we breached copyright or referred to Star Wars!

    Geb skips down the aisle merrily, singing happily about being sued by lawyers to the tune of "London Bridge is Falling Down".

    Britt the Writer: Oy! Al, is that a dig against my Britishness?

    Al Ciao the Writer: What? How the hell are you people reading semi-real life narration???

    Plickity bum.

    Al Ciao the Writer looks down at his computer screen to see Britt's MSN Messenger photo writ large on his 72" monitor.

    Britt the Writer: You do realize you're narrating yourself?

    Al Ciao the Writer: What?

    Al Ciao the Writer considers.

    Plickity bum.

    Britt the Writer:
    You just did it again! "Al Ciao the Writer considers." Really, what kind of pompous arse narrates -- oh. Nevermind, I think I just answered my own question.

    Al Ciao the Writer: Aha! You said "arse"! You've snuck it past the Censors, but I'm on to you now!

    Britt the Writer: You just said it too. If I go down, I'm taking you with me.

    Al Ciao the Writer: Um... I'll just go and write an NeS post now.

    Britt the Writer: Good lad. Don't muck with my story too much this time.

    Al Ciao's sudden laughter echoes raucously across the offices.



    Michael McLongname: Y'know, Britt the Writer is fiendishly brilliant. He referenced Jupiter a handful of times earlier this page, and it was a Chekhov's Gun used to foreshadow my return - as Jupiter was where we last met, my ignoble damsel.

    TLTE: Tovarish, you and everyone else has an unhealthy obsession with Chekhov's Gun. But, if you *really* want to see a Chekhov's Gun in action--

    Using some of the storywielding tricks he's picked up here and there, TLTE pulls a tarnished old AK-47 out of a plot hole. He rubs the muzzle lovingly.

    TLTE: This gun, though old, is a reverent weapon in prime condition.

    He cocks the gun, unclicking the safety.

    TLTE: And it once belonged to Anton Chekhov.



    Plickity bum.

    Britt the Writer:
    Stop right there! Did you totally miss the part where TLTE is the damsel? You're completely ignoring my making him that!

    Al Ciao the Writer: So? You completely ignored it where I turned it around and made him a sort-of villain! It's an excellent way of casting his character in doubt, hinting at the long-planned evolution of NeSquared!

    Britt the Writer: But that itself was you turning around when I established him the first time as a damsel!

    Al Ciao the Writer: ... I don't care. I wanted to use that Chekhov's Gun pun. It was just begging to be used.

    Britt the Writer: About that. What kind of puerile humorist makes a pun like-- oh. Nevermind, I just answered my own question. Just fix it!

    Al Ciao grumbles under his breath, various imprecations about Britt the Writer that the other can't hear.

    Plickity bum.

    Britt the Writer:
    You just narrated that, you pompous arse!


    As the bullets from Chekhov's gun strike Michael McLongname, the latter transforms into a vaporous shadow. The firing sound vanishes as though it had never been.

    TLTE: Borscht! Why didn't this thing fire?

    He slaps the muzzle.

    Michael McLongname: Oh, it did. Once upon a time. But you see, now that I am the Twice-Forgotten... my very being destroys the memory of whatever I touch.

    He reaches out a hand, and in the sunset, it casts a long shadow whose palm rests upon Chekhov's gun. The AK-47 dissolves into inky black smoke. TLTE blinks.

    TLTE: I coulda sworn that plothole I just reached into had... a gun in it.

    Michael McLongname smiles sinisterly.

    Michael McLongname: Oh really? What gun would that be?

    TLTE: I... I don't know.


    Plickity bum.

    Al Ciao the Writer sighs, switches from the NeS window to the Messenger window and types back.

    Al Ciao the Writer: What now, you twit?

    Plickity bum.

    Geb the Editor:
    Care to rephrase that, ex-writer?

    Al Ciao the Writer blanches.

    Al Ciao the Writer: Sorry! Sorry! I thought you were Britt the Writer, honestly!

    Geb the Editor: Pfft, whatever. I want to know why you're having Mick upstage Knowsoul.

    Al Ciao the Writer: What? S'not my fault! Britt the Writer is the one who re-introduced him!

    Geb the Editor: Maybe. But YOU just now ascribed very Knowsoul-like powers to him.

    Al Ciao the Writer: I'll explain it! Honest! Give me a chance!

    Geb the Editor: Don't fail me again... Admiral.

    The ominous strains of "The Imperial March" can be heard from Geb the Editor's office.


    TLTE: Wait! You're acting a lot like Knowsoul! Why?

    Michael McLongname: Oh dear God. You've just been appropriated as the Writers' mouthpiece, in defiance of all character, convention, and good writing.

    Krig the Viking lawyer rolls up like a tumbleweed, springing to his feet in a combat stance, axe at the ready. His slick lawyer's suit is dusty from the roll.

    Krig: Witness answer question!

    Michael McLongname rolls his eyes.

    TLTE: Krig! Buddy! Help me beat--

    Michael McLongname: It is thanks to Knowsoul that I have acquired these powers.

    Krig: Carry on, shadow man!

    He rolls off.

    TLTE: Dammit.

    Michael McLongname: Knowsoul, as Tsolo, devoured me as Jupiter transformed, you see. Most so destroyed are utterly gone. A second death, if you will. But I was transformed! I am the Twice-Forgotten One, reborn in a deluge of anti-destiny!


    Plickity bum.

    Britt the Writer:
    Crazy but somehow ominous vocabulary kit-bashing! Grant Morrison would be proud - but I'm not. -_-

    Al Ciao the Writer: Oh, just--

    Plickity bum.

    Geb the Editor:
    You better not be spouting some of your old Highemp rhetoric.

    Al Ciao the Writer: shove off, you twit.

    Geb the Editor: Oh, you're asking for it now.

    Al Ciao the Writer blanches an ever paler shade than previously.

    Al Ciao the Writer: It was a mistake! I was in the middle of typing to Britt the Writer when your window popped up! Please, you have to believe me!

    Al Ciao's screams fill the offices as Geb the Editor stomps into his cubicle.

    Britt the Writer: YOU POMPOUS ARSE!!!!
    Last edited by Al Ciao; 05-17-2012 at 09:00 AM.

  26. #1346
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    Losien and Joe


    Gebohq the Writer: Alright, you two! Enough of the plick-bumming!

    Al Ciao the Writer: Haha, Geb said bumming.

    Britt the Writer: Geb, you dirty man!

    Gebohq the Writer: Uh... wait, what? Shut up! I'm shouting at you both!

    Britt the Writer: Oh, by the way Al, I think you've pretty much made a plot-hole with your timing on Tsolo consuming McLongname. Don't worry, I'll save you.

    Al Ciao the Writer: Thank you Oh-Britt Kenobi! You're my only hope!

    Gebohq the Writer: You can't pretend you're not listening to me by covering with bad Star Wars gags! Not even Star Wars gags!

    Britt the Writer: I think Geb's midiclorian count is going to go through the roof...

    Gebohq the Writer: What? That doesn't even make sense. Midiclorians don't do that! And they're not real!

    Al Ciao the Writer: Heh, he called Star Wars real...

    Gebohq the Writer: And while I'm ranting, Britt why does every post you make have to feature some dirty, perv comments!? You're always lowering the tone!

    Britt the Writer: But... you have The Otter and Fred in there. That's... what they do? And it's funny. And I can write sleaze really well.

    Al Ciao the Writer: He is well versed in that field...

    There is a pause as Gebohq the Writer stares the other two before he finally breaks out into joyous victory cheers.

    Gebohq the Writer: I win! I made you talk to me!


    TLTE: So... if you were consumed by Tsolo upon your death and the changing of Jupiter from a planet to a star... what's it's name again? Xenos?

    Michael McFarlane: I think it's Zenos.

    TLTE: Seriously? They spell it with a "Z"? That's just stupid, they know that the word comes from xeno, right?

    The Illusionist (as CM): Did you just hear the difference in pronunciation of "Z" and "X"?

    TLTE: Doesn't matter. Whatever it's stupid name is, how the Hell did you show up again after that? You know, when you came back briefly and were then forgotten again? Making you Twice-Forgotten?

    Michael McFarlane: Uh... now I'm confused. When did The Otter turn Jupiter into a star?

    TLTE: I thought it was the same time as our end boss battle? Or... around then anyway? They were coming to help me... I think.

    Michael McFarlane: Right... so... Tsolo was using me to spy on the NeS Heroes... maybe try to make some of them become background characters so that they too would be forgotten and he could consume them.

    TLTE: Wow... nice save. Ish.


    Back on Memory Lane, far, far away from The Last True Evil, Michael McFarlane and The Illusionist, our heroes are about to witness another piece of iconic NeS History...

    Krig the Viking and SemiEvil are now walking aimlessly around the arena. When they come to the spot where Otter is looking for the crow's nest they find a wheel of cheese and some crackers labeled "Eat me."

    Krig: "Sir, yes SIR!"

    They eat the crackers and cheese.

    SemEvil: "Sem hungry was, hit the spot that did."

    Sem looks surprised at his own voice and goes to a mirror to look into it, only to find himself too short to see. Krig points out that Sem has become short, green, and furry.


    Sem and Krig had been Yodafied, yes.

    Krig: "Krig funny is talking, mmm!"

    Suddenly Morris, attracted by the sweet smell of marshmallow peeps, bounds into the arena, looking hungry. But alas, Morris spots Sem and Krig first, and the chase begins.
    Maeve: Are you being serious?

    Rachel: Narrator, you did just use the word iconic, right?

    Arkng Thand: Actually, the Yodafication of SemiEvil, and occassionally other such characters, is one feature of the NeS that is never really forgotten by any of the Writers or Readers of those times. And I do feel that Yodafication is a perfect representation of both NeS History, it's origins being of that movie franchise, and its quirkiness.

    Maeve: Oh, did you finish babbling? I fell asleep...

    Rachel: I amm envious of your line, Maeve. That was good and biting.

    Maeve: Ta.

    Al Ciao: Tar? You should stop smoking then!

    Maeve: No, it's Brit- you know what? Forget it.

    Krig looks at his hands, his eyes wide with shock.

    Krig: "Yodafied, Krig is!"

    Krig's eyes get wider as he realizes that, unlike Sem, his speaking has actually gotten better as a result of the Yodafication. Krig removes his Viking helmet by the horns, and two big giant Yoda ears pop out.

    Krig: "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

    Krig then turns and sees Morris the Cat charging strait at him and Sem.

    Krig: "AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!"
    Maeve: Oh, for crying out loud. As if Krig wasn't short, ugly and crazy enough as it is.

    The Otter: This would be an entertaining moment for us all to be Yodafied thanks to the residual effects of this photograph...

    Maeve: Are you honestly trying to jinx us, you pillock?

    Al Ciao: Is a pillock a type of fish?

    Losien: And no, we shouldn't be Yodafied just now! I think... I think this next bit is... very important to me!

    Maeve: Glad you're so modest, Losien.

    Losien: I am?

    Maeve: Most of this lot would have just said "This next bit is important". As though the rest of us should care about their introduction.

    Losien: You knew it was my introduction? Awww, thank you Maeve!

    Maeve: I have no idea why I'm being thanked, but you're welcome anyway.

    As the Current Cast of Heroes watches they witness a younger Losien approach the set of a movie and knock upon the door claiming to be searching for something...

    Losien: Mmmmm... Cheese and crackers.

    Amal: Of all the things you could have a craving for, why cheese and crackers?

    Losien: It's just one of those things. I love cheese and crackers. It's like... my signature food!

    The Otter: And I think it was her catchphrase for yonks too.

    *Losien stares in awe..when she suddenly thinks she has "fallen" for Joe..the camera man.*

    "Stop singing!" yelled the director, "We have work to be done!"

    "Umm..Joe..would you" asked Losien (remembering when her studdering problem was much worse).

    "Sure," looks over at the director, "Can we talk an hour break?"

    Director sighed, "Sure..whatever..go..leave."

    *Joe smiled.*

    "So, where are we going?" asked Joe.

    "I was thinking...w-w-well..may..maybe, we cou-could g-g-go get some..chee-cheese and cra-" said losien, once again being cut off.
    "Cheese and cranberries? Sounds good!"

    //Losien and Joe were off to the.."Green" Cranberry Market...alone//
    Al Ciao: Wow, you got a date in the same post you entered the main storyline? Impressive, Losien.

    Losien: Oh no... not really.

    Maeve: I have to admit, even I'm shocked, Losien. I didn't think you had it in you!

    Arkng Thand: Actually I think it just reinforces Losien's low self-esteem by falling in love with the first man that happens to sing something at her.

    Losien appears heart-broken and on the verge of tears of self-loathing.

    Soriel: And I thought I was cold...

    Rachel: Yeah, all those years by yourself hasn't improved your social skills, Thand.

    Arkng Thand: I was merely making an observation.

    Soriel: I believe most of us have already demonstrated that we disapprove of your "observations", old man.

    Arkng Thand: Careful with your insults, boy. This old man could crush you in an instant.

    Soriel: Perhaps, but how does that make you any less of an old man? I was merely making an observation.

    Al Ciao: Touchť!

    Rachel: Shut up, Al.

    Rachel: And doesn't that sound awfully like something a villain would say? Crush him?

    Arkng Thand: There are many ways to crush somebody that doesn't necessarily mean kill or maim. The downfall of a hero is infinitely tragic. The downfall of a villain masquerading as a hero, however, would be justice...

    Soriel: Your threats do not worry me, old man. I began to study the workings of the NeS before I was lost during the Disneyland battle, if anyone remembers? If I continue down that path, perhaps I can learn enough to defend myself against even you?

    Arkng Thand: HA! You could never even hope to reach my level, Soriel. I do not often indulge in in laughter but your ambition is so far from your grasp that I may not be able to control myself...

    Soriel broke a smile.

    Soriel: Maybe you forget the story conventions, old man? The bigger they are...

    Rachel: A kind of David and Goliath moment?

    Soriel: You manipulate story conventions as though they were weapons, Thand, and that makes them weapons. And when you have weapons, you have power, and when you have power you have levels and when you are the maximum level you are... either evil or a sage. If you are evil... I can win simply through inexperience and inability. Classic story convention.

    The Otter: Wasn't it Terry Pratchett that said if the odds are a thousand to one against the hero, then he'll succeed? I think it was in one of the books, right? Love the meta-story in those.

    Master Thand looks from face-to-face as he realised he was somehow being labelled as villain despite his inaction against them. He had to confess that even he was surprised to find that the motley crew had finally managed to band together against him and all unified behind one powerful story convention. But Master Thand knew he was not the villain of the NeS. Far from it.

    Arkng Thand: As you say, Soriel. I am an old man. Why would you all gang up on such a frail, old person like myself? It's very cruel of you.

    Each hero winces from guilt and frustration. Once again Thand knew the perfect convention to wield against them and they couldn't help but feel the true effects of the convention.

    Amal: Can we get back to Losien's early introduction now, Uncle?

    Master Thand is a little annoyed to find even Amal's tone was set against him. This he would have to correct; Amal had been too tainted by TLTE and the NeS Heroes.

    Arkng Thand: I am sorry if I took up too much of your time, dear nephew. I hope you can forgive this old man.

    //In the laundry-mat//

    "Did you hear something?" asked Losien.

    *Joe is too busy..umm..doing other things...doesn't hear her the first time*

    "what??" asked toe joe as he continued on with many sound effects...after all, he was the "sound guy."

    "Did you hear something? I think someone else is in here..shh.."

    //making even more "sounds"..joe tries to control himself//

    "Oh NO! We've been spotted!" said Losien in a quiet, raspy voice.

    "Spotted? I don't see any spots.." said he continued.

    "The person is coming closer! Hurry..we have to go before he"

    //music from "Jaws" playing in the background//

    *Losien and Joe search through the dryers close by, looking for clothes to throw on in hopes they're exposure won't be indecent to the "visitor" they were about to encounter*

    //Footsteps are coming closer and all of a sudden...//
    The entire group stares at Losien with shock and awe for several minutes, whilst Losien's face burns crimson.


    Britt the Writer: See? I wasn't the first to write rude stuff and mine is so soft and delicate compared to this!

    Gebohq the Writer: Yeah, yeah yeah.



    Losien: R-Really?

    Maeve: Seriously, your second post and you were caught shagging in the laundrettes? Amazing.

    The Otter: Why wasn't I available? Curse the Heavens!

    Amal: I think I'm... mentally scarred.

    The Otter: At least today is now an awesome day. THANK YOU MEMORY LANE! I have now seen more of Losien than I ever should have and it was glorious.

    Maeve: Yeah... now we've all seen Losien completely starkers.

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Tell them all to shut their yap and find the remote control! REWIND! REWIND!

    Soriel: Quiet you. I'm sorry you've had to go through this humility, Losien, but you should try to take it as a compliment. You are a very beautiful woman, clothed or unclothed, and they are all simply admiring that fact.

    Losien: Uh...

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Smooooooth...

    Al Ciao: Do they seriously pick up chicks that way on Jupiter? I mean, that was lame.

    Soriel: I wasn't trying to pick her up! Just soothe her anxiety at being stared at by you lot!

    Al Ciao: Yeah, whatever you say.

    Rachel: Because you're the master of relationships, aren't you Al?

    Al Ciao's lips tightened together.

    Rachel: Exactly. As for you!

    Rachel wheels around and points a finger straight at Losien.

    Rachel: If I ever even catch a whiff that you believe I am not good enough for Geb, I swear I'll cram your face down a toilet and remind you of this very moment! Got it!?

    There is a long pause of silence in the group, during which time The Otter and Soriel pulled up some chairs and were now sat with popcorn waiting for a good scrap.

    Amal: Are you two going to finish that fight now?

    Rachel: Bring it on.

    Although Rachel appears ready for round two, Losien just stands there. And then, after a sniffle and a sob;

    Losien: I'm sorry...

    There is silence again, but it is broken after a minute;

    The Otter: BOOOOOOORIING!!

    Soriel: I thought there was going to be blood...

  27. #1347
    Virgin Fleet Admiral
    TLTE did not survive all the other Evils to become the Last, for nothing.

    TLTE: Wait - so you somehow destroyed my memory of... whatever it was that we were just talking about?

    Michael McLongname: Correct.

    TLTE: ...or did you completely annul it so that it never existed, ala Doctor Who and sundry other works of media?

    Michael McLongname: Also correct.

    A light dawns on TLTE.

    Michael McLongname: Illusionist, stop that nonsensical lightshow framing the damsel's head, stat.

    Illusionist: Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.

    TLTE: In the NeS, being forgotten and being totally annulled, are one and the same, right?

    Michael McLongname: Close. Being forgotten is more of a limbo, or perhaps an oblivion of sorts, a half-existence. It is being TWICE-forgotten that equates total annulment in our world.

    TLTE: My God...

    Michael McLongname: Oh, don't worry, I'll be getting to him soon enough.

    TLTE: So what do you even need all those other men on top of the shed with you for?

    Michael McLongname: Eh?

    The Twice-Forgotten One looks behind him. His expression sours.

    Michael McLongname: Illusionist!

    The Illusionist gulps, and the minions vanish.

    Illusionist: Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.

    TLTE: So, wait, who are you really, Illusionist? You said you were Darth Puis aka the Gaptoothed Old Man from Al Ciao's (re)introduction, but was that just a guise you put on, and you're not the actual Darth Puis?

    Illusionist: Um, well, uh, I don't... know?

    Michael McLongname: The Illusionist here is, or was, indeed Darth Puis. But my fingers barely grazed him, and now his identity is gone. He does not exist at all, only deluding himself and everyone else thinking he does. It is the ultimate illusion.

    TLTE: Y'know, your twice-forgotten crap also explains why he couldn't remember what master he served. I bet that, as soon as you leave, we'll both forget about you?

    Michael smiles. It is a broad friendly smile of perfect white teeth, and on his be-shadowed face, looks downright scary. he dissolves into a whirlwind of black sheets of paper, which then vanish themselves.

    The Illusionist: For the last time, I am NOT getting on a Russian airline!

    TLTE: Eh, don't worry, you won't have to.

    Illusionist: Whew!

    TLTE: The airline headquarters has been relocated to China. You know, since the denizens of the mother country have forsaken the truth.

    Illusionist: You do know, the last time I was on a flight, it crashed. On top of a train. On top of a dragon. On top of a villain's base.

    TLTE: It was a villain you worked for.

    Illusionist: Right! Do you know how mad he was?! Insurance didn't cover damage from an airplane crash!

    TLTE: Uh... my sympathies? I promise, when I get back to my friends - uh, I mean, set up my evil lair, I'll get airplane-covered home insurance.

    Illusionist: Bah, as long as I can get dental coverage, it's all good.

    He smiles, revealing an ugly gaptoothed grin. TLTE recoils.

    TLTE: Actually, heroes' insurance - erm, I mean villains' insurance - doesn't cover dental.

    Illusionist: What!

    TLTE: Yeah, apparently mooks get their teeth smashed in too often for the insurance companies to make a profit.

    Illusionist: I. Am. Not. A. Mook.

    TLTE: Yeah, you're a lackey somewhere inbetween minion and second-in-command. Close enough.

    Illusionist: Grr... that's it! I'm pulling a Starscream and revolting!

    He grabs TLTE by the Female Grab Area, rendering him helpless, with the pink dress that has magically appeared back on him.

    Illusionist: You're my damsel in distress. Your rugged prince Losien will have to save you from me, and then I'll have enough villain cred to start my own world conquest syndicate!

    TLTE: Borscht.

    As TLTE reflexively looks at the pink-sleeved arm by which the Illusionist has ahold of him, he notices a single word scrawled on the lace. It appears written in his own handwriting, and was obviously a hasty scribble.



    Al Ciao the Writer sits back and props his feet up on the desk triumphantly.

    Al Ciao the Writer: Three posts now, Britt! What are *you* up to?

    He sneers, even though Britt the Writer can't see it.

    Britt the Writer: *yelling back* 21!

    Al Ciao the Writer starts, nearly falling off his chair.

    Al Ciao the Writer: What? I'll have to step up my game! I'll beat you to 22 posts, just watch me!

    Britt the Writer: 23!

    This time Al Ciao does fall off his chair.

    Al Ciao the Writer: Oh, this means war.

    He enters his post into the database.

    Al Ciao the Writer: Four!
    Last edited by Al Ciao; 05-17-2012 at 08:55 AM.

  28. #1348
    Virgin Fleet Admiral
    Al Ciao the Writer: Five!

    Britt the Writer: 24!

    Al Ciao the Writer: Dangit!

  29. #1349
    Virgin Fleet Admiral
    Al Ciao the Writer: Six!

  30. #1350
    Virgin Fleet Admiral
    Al Ciao the Writer: Seven!

  31. #1351
    Virgin Fleet Admiral
    Al Ciao the Writer: Eight!

    Britt the Writer: Hold it! You can't just write one word posts! That doesn't count!

    Al Ciao the Writer: Sure it does! One word posts are a time honored convention in NeS!

    Britt the Writer: Yeah, in small doses, and only when there's a reason for that.

    Al Ciao the Writer: Yeah? Well, show me the precedent then.

    Britt the Writer: I just read the entire NeS! I can give you a dozen precedents off the top of my head!

    Al Ciao the Writer: ...

    Britt the Writer: Got nothing to say to THAT, eh?

    Al Ciao the Writer: Geb! Britt is trying to stop me from boosting the post count!

    Geb the Editor: What? Britt, lay off. Anything to boost the ratings.

    Britt the Writer: We're not on Pay Per View anymore! Besides, he's doing it with ONE-WORD posts!

    Al Ciao the Writer: Right, but that's a time-honored convention!

    Geb the Editor: Sure, in small doses, and when there's a good reason for it.

    Britt the Writer: HA!

    Al Ciao the Writer: Grr.... SHOW ME A FRICKIN' PRECEDENT!

    Geb the Editor: I've read the NeS a dozen times! I can give you fifty precedents, off the top of my head, in my sleep! With a brain injury!

    To add insult to injury, or perhaps vice versa, Britt the Writer chucks a Bill Clinton bobblehead at Al Ciao the Writer.

    Britt the Writer: There's your president for ya.

    Al Ciao the Writer fumes. Finally, he pulls out his trump card.

    Al Ciao the Writer: Geb! I just explained Michael's powers as the ability to Ret Gone things!

    Geb the Editor: A TV Tropes link! Good man! Post away!

    Al Ciao the Writer:

    Britt the Writer: No!

    Al Ciao the Writer: Nine!

  32. #1352
    Tea-sipper, character-killer


    Al Ciao the Writer is busy trying to come up with his tenth post.

    Al Ciao the Writer: Hmmm... should it be "And post TEN"... or maybe "Here's post teeeeeeen!"... or even "POST TEN, BOOYAH!"

    Britt the Writer: You're actually putting thought into your crappy one-word posts?

    Al Ciao the Writer: I am an artist.

    Britt the Writer: Riiiiight. I really like your idea of ripping of Doctor Who by the way. It's really awesome.

    Al Ciao the Writer: Yeah, I had to put a lot of thought into stealing that idea.

    Britt the Writer: You know from all of the stuff we've been writing recently you'd honestly suspect we'd been planning all of this stuff all along!

    Al Ciao the Writer: HA! That'd be the day! But hey, maybe we did an we just forgot? Hahahaha!

    Britt and Al Ciao the Writers laugh to themselves for a couple of minutes before their laughter dies down in gradually more worried chuckles. They both yank up the sleeves of their shirts and check for writing!

    Nothing. They both laugh at each other. However the Writers do not need mysterious villain to forget crap. We pan to Britt the Writer's office to fins it littered with empty bottles of alcohol. Tsk, tsk, tsk.


    Back with the main heroes on Memory Lane, the scene is still displaying the Laundrette where the Historical Losien has just been interrupted during her sexy-session with Joe the Sound Guy. Our Future Heroes, however, have lost interest in the historical events as they are, instead, more interested in the rest of Losien's apparently wild and wonderful sex life.

    Maeve: Well you certainly looked like you knew what you were doing, Losien. That can't have been the first time, right?

    Losien: Uh...

    Rachel: Hussy.

    The Otter: How old were you your first time? Please tell me it was a sweet sixteen?

    Losien: Um...

    Al Ciao: More importantly, how many?

    Losien: Ah...

    Maeve: Is it always men?

    Al Ciao: You would ask that. I knew you were as straight as a half-hammered nail.

    Maeve: Shut it, you.

    The Otter: Hey, would you get it on with Maeve?

    Maeve: Not that I'd complain about the idea, but Otter shut up.

    The Otter: Can I watch?

    Losien: Erm...

    Amal: You haven't cheated on TLTE have you, Losien?

    Losien: Am...

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Ask her if she does porn!

    Soriel: Did you ever do any... modelling?

    The Otter: Yeah, you could easily be a Page 3 model!

    Maeve: I think Americans call it Centrefold, Otter.

    Arkng Thand: Maybe we should move on from this conversation?

    In the background Historical Antestarr has arrived on a wave of peeps to rescue Historical Losien from Morris the Cat. Historical Krig the Viking has attacked Joe the Sound Guy for corrupting Historical Losien's honour.

    Losien: I think I need a moment to myself...

    Our current-day Losien walks away from the others, who all stare after her with mixed faces of puzzlement or pity.

    The Otter: I think I'm in there.

    Maeve: Otter, you're deluded.

    Amal: She's TLTE's woman. Not yours Otter.

    Maeve: Oi, boy! She's nobody's woman. She isn't something a man can own!

    The Otter: Wow, MaybeChild. I didn't recognise you in that Maeve costume.

    Maeve: What?

    Al Ciao: Maybe was the resident FemiNazi.

    Maeve: What? I'm a FemiNazi because I don't want to be an object? I'm hardline and crazy because I don't want to be thought of as a thing instead of a person with my own free-will?

    The Otter: Uh...

    Maeve: I suddenly feel a lot of sympathy with poor MaybeChild if that's how you've all been treating her for all these pages. Amal, you're young, you have time to change that attitude of yours before this lot ruin you.

    Master Thand sidles upto Maeve.

    Arkng Thand: I couldn't agree more! Clearly they are a negative influence upon young Amal. Steering him in the wrong direction.

    Maeve: Uh... thanks Thand. Strange guy...

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Oi, Soriel. Ditch this lot and find the hot chick.

    Soriel: Which one? There's three women and I thought they all seemed fairly beautiful?

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Idiot, the one that ain't here. Plus she's clearly the hottest. Get your backside in gear!

    Soriel moves away from the group while they listen to Maeve explaining the idiocy of the male NeS Heroes for being so judgemental over the female characters of the story. In the background Historical Losien is riding the peeps-wave with Historical Antestarr.

    He finds our current Losien sitting by the edge of the photograph, leaning on the invisible wall.

    Soriel: You've been crying by yourself? I did not think their words were that bad? I'm sorry if they upset you.

    Losien: Huh? Oh. I wasn't crying, Soriel. A little miserable and ashamed, but not enough to start crying.

    Soriel crouches next to her and runs a hand across her cheek. His fingers leave her skin wet.

    Losien: That's weird. I don't remember crying. Why would I be crying?


    Al Ciao the Writer: I see what you did there.

    Britt the Writer:

  33. #1353
    Virgin Fleet Admiral
    Soriel, crouching beside Losien, his fingers moist with her tears, stares at her, considering.

    Soriel: Losien... You were off-panel for a few moments there. Now that you're back on stage--

    Losien: Off panel and on stage? Way to mix metaphors there.

    Soriel: Do you really want me to pull out Geb's thesis on NeS' juxtaposition of--

    Losien: Yes! Geb's thesis from NeSU was totally awesome! Even though it got an F.

    Soriel sighs, resisting the urge to start killing things. This resistance is aided by the fact that there is nothing around to actually kill.

    Soriel: Anyway, now that you're visible once more, you were crying, but don't remember doing so. That doesn't seem ominious to you?

    Losien: Um... I guess?

    Soriel: I think something has tampered with your memory. And since we are wading through old memories now, that could be very dangerous.

    He notices that Losien is clutching her right fist. He gently puts his over it.

    Soriel: What were you doing?

    Losien: Oh, I was reading-- I thought I was reading something?

    Soriel: Curiouser and curiouser.

    Behind them, a single sheet of inky black paper drifts away through the unformed gray nothingness.

    Back with the core group of heroes, standing around in the gray nothingness and shuffling their feet, a new memory appears unbidden before them.

    Otter: Yo, look, a new one!

    Maeve: Otter, I swear, if you tamper with this one to become a porno -- well, actually, I'd be okay with that. After I smear you on the pavement.

    Amal: I'm confused. Ms Maeve, you hate Otter for his carnal ways, yet you enjoy the carnality?

    Maeve: You ever hear of the double standard, kid?

    Amal: Yes...

    Maeve: It works both ways.

    Amal: Er, okay, Ms Maeve.

    Maeve: That's Miss Maeve. Or better yet, just Maeve. You trying to make me feel old?

    Amal: Miss? I thought you were married?

    Maeve: Long time ago.

    Al Ciao, being the romantic he is, is instantly sympathetic.

    Al Ciao: What happened?

    Maeve: He decided to spice up our sex life. Turned out I liked the spice better than him.

    Otter's mouth is working soundlessly.

    Maeve: Not. One. Word.

    Al Ciao: Wait - you mean--

    Maeve: That goes double for you.

    Meanwhile the memory solidifies in front of them. It is an unfamiliar scene - but Al is transfixed.

    There is a somewhat smallish but still stately manor on a remote Atlantic island. On the side, there is a grove of trees, all of which are dead save one, which sprouts white blossoms over a grave at the trunk. A tall man, cloaked in black, stands before the tombstone.

    Highemperor: I... I imprisoned High Angel, Alole. I had to. I wish I didn't, but...

    He turns and looks out over the waves.

    Iriana Emp: Daddy?

    A little girl of perhaps five comes up behind Highemp and slips her hand in his his. He turns a loving gaze to her, but there is still hurt and loss haunting his eyes.

    Iriana: Are you gonna stay this time?

    Highemp: No, honey, I can't.

    Iriana: But I thought you beat the bad guy...

    Highemp: One of them. There are others. Despair. Loss. Suffering. Death.

    Iriana: Can I come with you?

    Highemp picks her up by the waist, bringing her to his eye level, and smiles.

    Highemp: No, pumpkin. Too dangerous. But I promise, once I conquer everything, I'll be able to give you everything you could possibly want!

    Iriana pouts.

    Iriana: I already have everything I want, Daddy. Except you. Pleeaaaasse stay?
    Before Highemp can answer, the memory fades. The heroes turn as one to face Al Ciao, who was once the powerplayer known as Highemperor.

    Losien: What did you say?

    She and Soriel have come up behind the others, and she breaks the silence with the poignant question. Al Ciao twists his lip.

    Al: What do you think I said? I was... focused on what I didn't have, rather than what I had already.

    Losien hugs him in sympathy. He pats her back awkwardly in her embrace.

    Maeve: Please! Stop this bloody blubbering! All this grandiose melodrama is even worse than Otter's puerile fantasies!

    Soriel: I dunno... grandiose melodrama often leads to epic killings.

    Fred Teh Uber Blade: And epic sex!

    Soriel: Silence, Blade!

    Fred Teh Uber Blade: HA! Make me. You always tell me to shut up, like you think it'll actually work.

    In reply, Soriel drives Fred blade-first into the gray facsimile of the ground, burying it to the hilt.

    Fred: Oooh, to the hilt! That's ki-mmmmffgh.

    His blade now muffled in the ground, Soriel grins in satisfaction.

    Soriel: Now we can focus on the mission.

    Losien: Um... you know that Fred only distracted you, right? You're the one always distracting us by arguing with him.

    New Sultry Feminine Voice: Well, honey, I can certainly distract you in his place.

    Losien jumps. Blinking, she looks all around.

    Losien: Who said that?

    The other heroes look at her oddly.

    Al: Erm... you just said that. To Soriel.

    Losien: No, I--

    New Sultry Feminine Voice: I said it. Carlotta.

    Losien: Carlotta? Who are you? Where are you?

    Even Amal is staring at Losien strangely now.

    Otter: Carlotta? Dunno what you're talking about, but she sounds hott!

    Maeve dopeslaps Otter.

    Maeve: Pig!

    Otter: Ow! Jeez, you really are the Maybe-Expy, aren't you?

    Maeve dopeslaps Otters again.

    Carlotta: I'm right here, Los, draped around the sexiest buns of the group.

    Losien: You're fondling Al's ass?

    Al looks sharply at Losien, and tries to peek over his shoulder at his buttocks.


    Plickity bum.

    Britt the Writer:
    Way to self-promote.

    Al Ciao the Writer: I have no idea what you're talking about... >.>


    Carlotta lets out a rich laugh which, again, only Losien seems to hear.

    Carlotta: No, silly. Soriel.

    Losien: Oh my WriterGod.

    Soriel: What is it?

    Losien: Your cape is talking to me.

    Al Ciao: Seriously, who's behind me?

    As the heroes wrestle with this new development, foreshadowed by another one of Britt the Writer's Chekhov's Guns, a scene from memory is playing right in front of them, yet none of them seem to realize that it's there. It is formed from inky black nothingness rather than gray nothingness...

    Geb: You're going down, Darkside!

    A shadowy wraith in a black cloak with glowing red eyes sneers.

    Darkside: I was born in Hell, foolish NeSizen. There is no further down to go.

    A white sword ripples through the air, slashing completely through Darkside, but seemingly with no effect.

    Highemperor: *brandishing Drynyrn, his glowing sword of crackling energy* Then we'll make an Eleventh Hell, just for you.

    Maybe: Eleventh? What about the Tenth?

    Master Thand: Oh, dear MaybeChild, the Tenth was made as a specially built prison for Helebon after his revolt back in the days of Atlan--

    Maybe: Yeah, I don't really care.

    Darkside reaches out for Geb with insubstantial claws.

    Darkside: At last, Chosen One, your soul will be mine!

    Geb doesn't move, stiff as a board, paralyzed by Darkside's petrifying gaze. But just before Darkside touches him, there is a blur of movement, and Geb vanishes, reappearing several meters around, Antestarr standing next to him.

    Antestarr: Hyper-Time Modulator. Don't leave home without it. By the way, Master Thand, I'm so glad you decided to come with me to Earth.

    Master Thand: Of course, lad. You have the makings of the best NeScholar in centuries.

    Darkside howls in fury as the NeS heroes surround him.

    Darkside: You will all pay!

    Master Thand: On the contrary, Hellspawn. They will do what I should have done 10 thousand years ago...
    Then the unsensed memory, from page 10, explodes into a storm of ethereal sheets of ebon paper. The whirlwind of dead trees whips furiously about the NeS heroes, who take no notice of it, as if it isn't there. Then the papers themselves dissolve into pitch-black smoke, which soon dissipates...
    Last edited by Al Ciao; 05-17-2012 at 09:05 AM.

  34. #1354
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    The Cape, the Sword and the Heroes.

    Maeve: I knew it! Craziness is contagious! Right back when you walked through the shop door I knew this would happen!


    Gebohq the Writer: Honestly, tell me the truth, do you two plan this crap?

    Al Ciao & Britt the Writer:


    Still entirely unaware of the bizzarre, and secret, memory that had just whirlled around them, the group now face a new problem. The madness of Soriel and Losien.

    The Otter: So, this bloke talks to his sword. Right? And only he can hear the sword's replied, yes?

    Al Ciao: Yes.

    The Otter: But now... Losien can hear his cape? He can't hear his own cape? Losien can. Losien can't hear her cape?

    Al Ciao: She doesn't have one.

    The Otter: Not really the point, is it?

    Amal: Why can you only hear the cape now, Losien?

    Losien: No idea.

    Soriel: Maybe I should remove it?

    Carlotta, the Cape: Aw, no! That's no fun! I like being right here where I can brush and stroke against his a-

    Losien: Yes. I really think you should.

    Carlotta, the Cape: Spoil sport...

    Soriel, in one quick motion, unclasps and whips the cape from around his shoulders. Without it, he could pass for a fairly ordinary man on the street. Besides the scabbard. And the evil, murderous look on his face.

    Soriel: Um... what does he say?

    Rachel: Soriel, it's a woman. It's name's Carlotta.

    Losien: She was saying how... she likes... you.

    Al Ciao: Channelling your own carnal desires through an inaminate object isn't the best way to go about things, Losien.

    Amal: She is TLTE's wo-

    Amal catches the glare from Maeve and quickly corrects himself.

    Amal: She loves TLTE. No one else.

    Al Ciao: Well, for starters I didn't say anything about love...

    Losien: I am not pretending, Al.

    The Otter: It seems that whenever the main cast are thrown into a socialising story arc, it always boils down to sex.

    Losien: I am not...

    Losien just sighes. She never understood why most things happened in the NeS and this is just one more unexpected quirk. Soriel holds the cape out towards Losien, who accepts it.

    Carlotta, the Cape: Damn. If you don't want me feeling up Soriel, at least pass me over to one of the other blokes. I don't want to be spanking your backside every time you go for a run.

    Losien drops the cape with shock.

    Losien: Maybe you should just have it back, Soriel.

    Carlotta, the Cape: Oh yeah. Time to get some good groping in. You know, it's best when it's cold and he has to wrap me all the way around, if you catch my drift?

    Losien: Ah! Maybe not!

    She snatches the cape up again.

    Carlotta, the Cape: Good God. Life is going to be really dull from now on, isn't it?

    Losien wraps the cape around her own neck and takes a brief, and very self-conscious moment as she considers the closeness of the apparently sentient garment.

    Carlotta, the Cape: Fine, fine. Ruin all of my fun. Just don't expect any favours from me, Missy.

    Losien: Why can I only just hear you now, Carlotta? Why couldn't I hear you before?

    Carlotta, the Cape: No idea. I guess something must have happened that no one realised.

    Losien: This is so weird...

    Carlotta, the Cape: You're telling me! Years I've had Soriel all to myself and now I've been lumbered with you! A girl! Then again, I've never really tried the dark side. As that other girl said, maybe I'll like it spicy?

    Losien has to fight the sudden urge to tear the cape off and stamp on it. Soriel finally pulls his sword from the earth.

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Okay, okay, I won't make any lewd comments... for the next five minutes. What did I miss?

    Soriel: I had a female cape.

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Awesome! Cape... that's slang for orga-

    Soriel: No. It was my cape. It was a female.

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Oooooookay. Why the Hell wasn't I notified earlier!? I could have done all kinds with that cape all these years! Wrap me up in her!

    Soriel: ... why do I need to have the talking equipment? It's so... stressful.

    Amal: Should we spend a few more posts trying to figure out why the cape can suddenly talk or should be try moving on?

    Al Ciao: Yeah, let's move on. We can figure the cape out on the way. It's like a sub-quest, right?

    The Otter: I'd rather do the cape.

    Losien: Otter!

    The Otter: I meant do the cape quest. I'm not that desperate!

    Losien: Why do you want to do that quest?

    The Otter: Well, it'll be like the frog prince or something, won't it? The cape will turn into a beautiful princess and want to bed me.

    Losien: Otter...

    Losien rubs her face, surprised that The Otter could still say something unexpected.

    Carlotta, the Cape: Tell him, it's true. I'd definately take him to bed with that sexy British accent!

    Losien: Cape!

    Carlotta, the Cape: I have a name, you know?

    Losien: Oh... but it's weird to call you by your name. Soriel never says his sword's name.

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: That's because he doesn't want me to upstage him, sweet-cheeks.

    Soriel: Stupid sword...

    Then the group are transported to page 11 where they are greeted with another historical moment...

    Krig starts go-go dancing with Swedish Bikini squad.
    Everyone tries to claw their own eyes out but are saved when the scene quickly changes.

    //Head Guy walks out of the office and sees the cast members in a huge pile with Krig fighting his way out//

    Head Guy: "What happened?"

    Geb: "We're playing Twister. What's it look like?" asks Gebohq, sarcastically.

    Head Guy: "Geez, I think we're going to have to have a meeting. Our ratings are in first right now. They've gone up 90% in the last, well...10 minutes. Let's meet tomorrow to discuss our progress. Does anyone object?"

    Krig: "Do we get food?"

    Otter: "Yeah. If we show up to this meeting, is there going to be food?"

    Head Guy: "Of course. We'll have some Pizza, Cheese and Crackers..everything. By the way, where's Losien?"

    //Meanwhile, on the other side of the Arena, Losien and Joe were sitting together. Losien was speechless as she sat there looking into his eyes.//
    Maeve: Uh, we have viewers?

    Soriel: The NeS was pay-per-view?
    Last edited by TheBritt; 05-17-2012 at 08:51 AM.

  35. #1355
    Virgin Fleet Admiral
    Al Ciao the Writer: Britt! I've been waiting all morning to type up my post, because you said you were writing another one!

    Britt the Writer: Zzzzz...

    Al Ciao the Writer: Grr...


    Amal: Mr. Soriel, I'm curious - where did you get all this equipment of yours?

    Soriel: Well...


    Geb the Editor: Hold it! Britt might have a backstory in mind.

    Al Ciao the Writer: So? He's forfeited it! Anything goes in NeS!

    Geb the Editor: Okay, then. Just remember that when he tampers with YOUR backstory.

    Al Ciao the Writer: :O

    Geb the Editor: That's what I thought.

    Al Ciao the Writer: Fine. I'll put in my ideas here, and he can change it via Mick's twice-forgetting later if he wants.


    Soriel: undead lich with blue runes all over his skin gave me Teh Uber Blade. Said it had once been wielded by a great villain, and also by a great hero.

    Al: But why does it talk?

    Fred: Seriously? It's kind of expected of an ancient artifact. Sentient weapons and so forth.

    Soriel: I'd much rather you ate souls or something.

    The other heroes stare at Soriel.

    Fred: Ugh. Souls tend to be either way too spicy, or else completely bland. I will eat a woman's--

    Soriel: SILENCE BLADE!

    Carlotta: Aren't you gonna share our story, sweet cheeks?

    Losien: Em... Carly wants you to share how you found her.

    Carlotta: Oooh... Carly? I like it. It's so... familiar. And... intimate.

    Losien: SILENCE CAPE!

    Now the other heroes stare at Losien. Soriel clears his throat to cover the awkward silence to answer Carly's question.

    Soriel: eBay.

    Maeve: What? Seriously? I didn't figure you for the type to buy things online.

    Soriel: Everyone's online.

    Al: I wonder who originally owned the cape? And why he was trying to get rid of it?

    Maeve: Sexist pig!

    She dopeslaps Al upside the head.

    Al: Hey!

    Rachel: Hands off him, Maeve.

    Al: Aw, thanks, Rachel. Didn't know you cared.

    Rachel: I don't. But it's MY job to smack you around.

    Al: :O

    Rachel smacks Al upside the head with a frying pan, knocking him out. The other heroes, sans Al, stare at her now.

    Rachel: Hehehe... I may have overdone it just a tad.

    Again, it is Soriel who rescues them from the awkward silence, by answering Al's question.

    Soriel: Actually, if I recall, the seller was a woman. Her name was listed as--

    His eyes suddenly widen as he remembers.

    Soriel: Carlotta...

    Fred: You whore! I like you already. Can I buy you off Losien?

    Carly: Honey, you couldn't afford five minutes with me. 'Sides, you don't have any buttocks, and I am all about the buttocks.[/COLOR]

    Soriel and Losien stare at each other and flush. Each of them has only heard half the conversation, but they are embarrassed by the flirting of the inanimate objects.

    Amal: Let's just move right along through the memories then.

    Losien: No! We have the Carly sub-quest and the main quest to rescue TLTE!

    Rachel: So, what, you're just gonna ignore the whole Memory Lane clip show plot?

    Losien: Yes! Executive decision! Besides, if the Writers have any sense at all, they'll tie it in to TLTE's rescue.

    The other heroes, sans Al, stare at her for a second. Then they burst out laughing.

    Otter: She said "Writers" and "sense" in the same sentence!

    Maeve: *guffawing* And she was serious!


    Britt the Writer: Hmm, reverse foreshadowing?

    Al Ciao the Writer: Uh... sure. We'll go with that.[/COLOR]
    Last edited by Gebohq; 05-17-2012 at 09:26 PM. Reason: fixing color tags

  36. #1356
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    Post The Temporal Plot-Hole

    A long, long way away from our main plotlines we come across the Scandinavian Moutains that border Finland and Sweden. The snowcapped mountains sit silent and ominous without a single trace of life...

    Except for the Swedish Bikini Squad who are practicing their routine for the next Swedish Bikini Olympics. Being a Viking of either Norse or Swedish origins, the stout vikinger feels a natural affinity for the beautiful Swedish Women of the squad and pays regular visits to their outpost in the Scandinavian Mountains.

    Krig the Viking: Krig think Bikini Girls must be chilly.

    Bikini Squad Member - Tilda: It is! But we work through it!

    The women continue their dance routines and Krig strips down to his own bikini and joins in, jiggling his hairy, hairy belly.

    Unknown to the Bikini Squad or their Viking guardian they have an observer. Lay upon the soft snow of the mountainside, clad in white undercover garments, is a blonde-haired man. He recoils quickly from his binoculars when he witnesses Krig perform a pelvic thrust.

    He crawls away from mountainside and turns on his recording equipement.

    Man: British Agent Benedict Cumberlatch-

    The man sighes.

    Benedict Cumberlatch: No relation to Benedict Cumberbatch, the actor. I believe I am close to the orgins of the unusual signals reported by British Intelligence. We are lucky that the mission wasn't scrapped when Helebon conquered the UK, but now that we are free again the mission is a go. I am currently scanning the Scandinavian Mountains where I have come across some occult Swedish ritual dating back to the Viking era. It is truly monstrous.

    Benedict Cumberlatch slowly makes his way down and away from the Bikini Squad.

    Benedict Cumberlatch: But they aren't the reason I am here. I am surprised, however, that they hadn't noticed the anomoly themselves. The fat Viking chap seemed much more in tune with his senses than one might think at first sight. Either way, I draw close to the unusual energy readings according to my tricorder... no relation to the tricord from Star Trek. Honest.

    There is a slight flicker against the white snow that makes Benedict Cumberlatch pause in both his speech and his tracks. However it seems to have passed and he put it down to a trick of the eyes, though he chooses to proceed more slowly and stop talking.

    He feels every muscle in his body ache from the tension.

    Then he sees the flicker again, more like a ripple, and he realises that he is staring straight at the anomaly; it's just white.

    Benedict Cumberlatch: I have found the source. It's... beautiful. I have no bloody idea what it is but I'm certain it's what's been causing the temporal disturbances all over the planet. I'm moving in for a closer look.

    But just as he nears the strange rippling plot-hole something small andd silver flashes past his vision. Then another. And another. Before he knows it he is captured, tied up by black cords from seven... TOASTERS!

    Benedict Cumberlatch: What the devil-!?

    Then he feels something sharp and painful jab into his back.

    Stranger: I'm so sorry Benedict Cumberlatch, but I can't allow anyone to come through here... Anyone.

    Benedict Cumberlatch topples to the snow and, with his fading vision, he sees his assailant, surrounded by her toaster guardians.

    Benedict Cumberlatch: You... I thought... you were a hero? A NeS Hero?

    Voodoo Snowflakes: I was...


    Britt the Writer: I normally don't do this but... DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!!!!!

  37. #1357
    Virgin Fleet Admiral
    Al Ciao the Writer: Woooooooooo! Ominous posts using long-forgotten characters and old world-building notes to do seemingly unrelated cool stuff!

    Britt the Writer:

    Al Ciao the Writer: My turn!


    The Hovercarrier, floating headquarters of the premier international superhero team Hero Force One, is stationed over London, as it has been for several pages. Please note that the Hovercarrier is in NO WAY a total rip-off the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier. In fact, I don't even know what the S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier is. I've never even heard of it.

    Random Audience Member: Sounds like a Suspicious Specific Denial to me...

    Anyways, the lineup of Hero Force One seems to inflate every time it reappears after an absence in the story, and this is no exception. Current members include:

    Citizen Rex: Upstanding superpowerful paragon, replacement of the Patriot. Currently undercover as civilian on Top-Secret Mission. Codename: Al Ciao. Rumors that Citizen Rex has either gone AWOL or is actually depowered are strongly denied.

    Dr. R. Deep: A powerful mage, upstanding member of the French-based Magium. Strongly resembles Morpheus. Wields two violet energy katanas in addition to spellslinging.

    Seraphim: Archangel in service to the WriterGod. Divinely beautiful, with a dress and wings of pure pearly light.

    Judge: British telekinetic. When she uses her telekinetic powers, she glows purple.

    Qhobeg: Yet another clone of Gebohq, with far more control over his story wielding powers than the former main character.

    Magick Snowflakes: Sister of Voodoo Snowflakes, from an alternate future in which toasters took over the world. Dr. R. Deep's apprentice in magic.

    Acidspitter: Teenage punk outfitted in purple mohawk, chains, and leather. Acidic spit. Incubus powers. Newly upgraded to Hero Force One (from Hero Force Eight) thanks to his relationship with Seraphim.

    The members of Hero Force One are meeting in a hidden chamber of the Hovercarrier, which none of the Hero Forces Two-Twelve know of, to discuss a momentous occasion.

    Deep: Mushrooms! I specifically asked for mushrooms on my pizza!

    Magick Snowflakes: Sorry, Doctor. I must have forgotten to tell them.

    Deep: Forgetfulness is the bane of any would-be mage! You must memorize your spells!

    Acidspitter: Dude, are you telling me NeSian magic is like D&D?

    Seraphim: Perish the thought! D&D is devil worship!

    Judge: Actually, I think Joe's Pizza did pretty good getting the pizza here in under 30 minutes, considering we're a mile up in the sky.

    Qhobeg: Yeah, how did they manage that anyway?

    Judge: Apparently, they get calls from the NeS heroes all the time. Something about crossed signals on their hero watches?

    Deep: Right, the NeS heroes. Anointed of the Writers... about which we are here.

    Seraphim: The Holy Servants of the WriterGod? Please, tell us more.

    Deep: There is an astonishing new development, one long feared and anticipated, that is at last coming to pass. It concerns all the major power centers of the NeSiverse, and thus there is to be a grand conclave of them all. We must select two representatives to go.

    Qhobeg: Oy! I nominate our resident couple, Seraphim and Acidspitter.

    Seraphim blushes, and Acidspitter smiles and squeezes her hand.

    Deep: Er... why?

    Judge: Well, they're obviously Al Ciao the Writer's favorite members of Hero Force One, given that they're the two members of Hero Force his posts focus most on. Plus, y'know, they represent a bit o' Heaven and Hell, too.

    Magick Snowflakes: Doctor, I think I'd have to agree.

    Qhobeg: And I.

    Deep: I have misgivings, but... Very well. Go.


    On Mount Olympus, home of all the ancient mythological gods of NeS Earth--

    Aphrodite: Hey! Don't call me ancient. It's not nice to refer to a girl's age.

    Athena: It's also not nice to call you a whore, but it's still true.

    Aphrodite *****-slaps Athena in reply, and the two get into a tussling match. You'd think this would draw the attention of the other gods, but let's face it, there's only so many million times you can watch the same thing, no matter how divinely hot the two women involved are.

    Thoth: So I call this meeting to order. Or at least, a semblance thereof.

    The Egyptian god of wisdom and the moon eyes the catfight askance.

    Thoth: Shiva has uncovered a twist of fate that could affect us all.

    Frey: Psh, just email the Norns and tell 'em to knock it off.

    Hermes Trismegistus: It's not them.

    Silence falls, and the other gods, sans Athena and Aphrodite, turn as one to Hermes, who has appeared at the far end of the long table. Most of the other gods and goddesses, Ares primarily, regard him with a chilly glare.

    Queztlcoatl: You don't say.

    Hermes Trismegistus: There are things behind the Fates, as we all very well know. The high sorcerers of the Magium can reweave the Norns' decrees, and this goes beyond them as well.

    Great World Spirit: I wasn't aware that anything or anyone was both powerful enough to affect us AND cared enough to do anything involving us.

    Monkey King: There are two such beings, and it is their return, or so I believe, that Hermes refers to.

    Hermes nods at the Monkey King, who despite his Chinese roots, has anime hair and a scouter on his eye.

    Hermes Trismegistus: Correct. In fact, all the great powers of the NeSiverse are having a conclave to discuss the repercussions of this event. It is incumbent upon us to select two representatives to attend this conclave.

    Ares: I'll go! I love crashing parties.

    Hermes Trismegistus: It will NOT be a party.

    All the gods, sans Athena and Aphrodite, groan. Gods invented partying, and none of them want to go somewhere they can't do it.

    Dionysus: Psh, send me, and I'll *make* it a party.

    Apollo: Absolutely not. There is no chance in Hades you are going.

    Hades, Pluto, Hela, and Ereshkigal all glare at Apollo, but he ignores them.

    Monkey King: I will go. And I would like to take Nick with me.

    Nick, demigod son of Ares and Aphrodite, starts out of his bored teenage half-doze. The other gods, however - sans Athena and Aphrodite - quickly assent, since it means none of them have to attend a snoozefest.


    In France lies the hidden-from-Muggles Magium, greatest nexus of magic in the NeSiverse, and home of the Arcane Academy (which also has a branch campus at the revered NeSU). A tower made entirely of light spears the sky, dwarfing all the other spires of the Magium, and it is upon the roof balcony that the master council is meeting.

    Hermes Trismegistus: One of the great beings of the NeSiverse, an ancient divine being with super speed and generic godly abilities, plus all of Ares' power and the greatest grasp of magic in the world.

    Taliesin: An ancient bard, teacher of the NeSorcerer Merlin himself.

    Faust: A magician with great inborn talent, but not enough discipline to develop it, he struck a fiendish bargain with the Devil for control.

    Mustang Ford: Ancestor to the off-duty NeS hero Ford, once a founding member of the 1800s League of Heroes. Now an undead lich.

    Dr. R. Deep: Powerful spellslinger and spellsword. Member of Hero Force One as well.

    Cool Matty: Newest member of the master council. Off-duty NeS hero. Mageling with mind-boggling potential, prophesied to become the NeSorcerer, successor to Merlin.

    Faust: Bollocks, HT! Why'd you have to get me up so early?

    Hermes Trismegistus: It's 4:30 in the afternoon.

    Faust: I was partying.

    Taliesin: I thought your deal with the devil meant you can't get hungover?

    Faust: Sure. But that was with Jim Seven. Now that Mr. Eight is in charge, all pacts are in a state of flux.

    Deep: Nevermind that now. Although Mr. Eight may be tangentially related to this gathering.

    Mustang: I'm curious to know what you've called us here for, Hermes. Deep seems to know. Let the rest of us in on it.

    Hermes Trismegistus: An uncanny development, which could possibly become the greatest crisis the NeSiverse has ever known, has occurred. The great powers of the NeSiverse are gathering in conclave.

    Deep: And we shall send two representatives.

    Faust groans.

    Faust: Well, count me out. I have a splitting headache.

    Cool Matty: You know, a simple spell will cure that.

    Faust: No can do. It was some of Bacchus' personal stash of maenad wine.

    The other master mages wince in sympathy.

    Mustang: Well, send Deep and Hermes. They seem to have a grasp of what is going on.

    Deep: Two members from Hero Force One have already been selected. Given the politicking of ascended beings, I might be seen as a cheat entry from them.

    Hermes Trismegistus: I am going.

    Cool Matty: But you're also a god. Won't that be seen as politicking?

    Taliesin: No one denies Hermes Trismegistus.

    Hermes Trismegistus: And I am taking Cool Matty with me.

    CM: Aw, do I hafta?

    Hermes just looks at him.

    CM: Yeah, yeah... "No one denies Hermes Trismegistus."


    In the Haunted House of Heroes - ancient ancestral manor of the Simon dynasty (Geb and Losien's family) and currently 8th dimensional headquarters of the NeS heroes - many more things stir than merely the heroes. Who technically aren't stirring since they're catatonic in the living room in front of the projector.

    The banshee and skeleton who rattle around in the attic are coming down to the third floor in a huff, having been temporarily kicked out by an impromptu meeting of the survivors of the League of Heroes from the 1800s.

    Mustang Ford: Also a member of the Magium's master council.

    Morthrandur: Ominous undead wraith with mysterious story-wielding powers. Was once Erro "Ohq" Simon II, ancestor of Gebohq and Losien, and founder of the League of Heroes.

    Jim Seven: Was bound by Mustang as Protector of the Plotfractal for over a century. Former ruler of hell/Canada, before Geb's misfired plothole pistol switched him out with Al Ciao.

    Al Ciao: Was once King Emperor XIV of Armenia, master archer of the League of Heroes, before he became Highemperor. Not present.

    Mustang: My apologies for calling you here on short notice. I've just learnt of a dire event, and a conclave gathered to address it.

    Jim Seven: Eh, no biggie. Being unemployed, I got plenty of spare time anyway. I've just been playing heavy metal in my go-kart.

    The spectre Morthrandur remains silent, his tall, cloaked form ominous, his true face - whatever it might now be -unseen.

    Mustang: Erm, King Emp - I mean, Al Ciao - is not here. Perhaps we should fetch him?

    Morthrandur: That would be unwise. He is very nearly directly involved in this crisis.

    Mustang stares at Morthrandur.

    Mustang: You know what this crisis is? Hermes and Deep didn't see fit to share it with the rest of us.

    Morthrandur: I know many things.

    Jim Seven: We can't exactly send two representatives to the conclave ourselves. I mean, there's only 3 of us to begin with - 4 if you count my incompetent replacement - and it's not like we're an officially recognized power group.

    Mustang: How do you know about the conclave? I haven't mentioned that yet.

    Jim Seven: I read the earlier parts of the post on my way over.

    Mustang: You were reading while you were driving?!

    Jim Seven: It's a go-kart. Can't do too much damage. It's not my fault that every car I hit had a high center of balance.

    Morthrandur: I will be there.

    Mustang: You will? At the conclave? How?

    Morthrandur remains silent, and Mustang knows he was foolish to ask. Morthrandur melts into the shadows and is gone, leaving Mustang and Jim to look uncertainly at each other.

    Mustang: Though unofficial, we four were once some of the mightiest beings in the cosmos.

    Jim snorts.

    Jim: Not anymore, boyo, 'cept maybe Morthy. Your magic's deteriorated over the past century, I got kicked out of hell, and ole Ow Ciao is useless since he forswore his powers.

    Mustang: I wonder... Erro said he had something to do with all this...


    Camera cut to the Seventh Dimension. Wait, what's this? Cobwebs and a sign saying VACANCY? Wth? Where did they all go?

    WriterGod: We're over here now. Since the 8th dimension came along and upstaged the 7th, the timefractal, the pantheon moved, so as not to be seen as inferior.

    Pan to the Phortress of Phractal in the far reaches of outer space. Here dwell the Eternal Pantheon, greatest deities over the NeSiverse, those who oversee the very elements of the storyfractal.

    Eternius the Omnarrator: Supreme Being. At least, that's what his business cards say.

    EditorGod: God of Editors everywhere. Greater, in theory, than the now-deceased Editor of the 42nd story of the NeS Tower. Has not merely a red-ink pen, but a rainbow-ink pen, just to show how cool - or possibly, color-blind - he is.

    CensorGod: God of Censors everywhere, patron of the villainous Censor who was a member of the recently dissolved Alliance of Evil led by JM.

    PublisherGod: God of Publishers.

    CopyrightGod: Unsurprisingly, the God of Copyright has very little power in the NeSiverse.

    CharacterGod: God of the characters of the story. Since characters are the heart of any story, the Characters(TM) are the heart of the NeS empowered and sometimes indwelt by the Writers, he conceivably holds a lot of influence. At least, he might if it weren't for his awful lisp.

    Phractal: The living embodiment of the storyfractal. Resembles a man made of a fractalized crystal, or in other words, "too weird to describe". It is his space station Magitek fortress in which the other NeS gods have become freeloaders.

    Serapharch: Greatest of the archangels of the Nameless, the one God of all, since the fall of High Angel-now-High Imp.

    WriterGod: His status is confusing. Sometimes he is seen as the supreme God over NeS. Sometimes he is seen merely as the patron of the Writers. And sometimes he is even seen as the Nameless, the Supreme God of Gods Most High over, well, everything, even beyond the NeSiverse. Perhaps all of these are aspects of one being.

    HorseGod: Horse-headed god of stallions, mares, and colts. Only got into the Eternal Pantheon because he tells great jokes.

    Eternius the Omnarrator: So, why have you troubled ME, the great SUPREME ONE over ALL, with your petty concerns?

    Phractal: Possibly because you're an arrogant blockhead.

    Eternius: I am not! I am the Supreme Being!

    HorseGod: Sure you are. That's what it says on all your business cards, so it must be true.

    The other gods roar with laughter, but the HorseGod's sarcasm is lost on Eternius, who is placated.

    CopyrightGod: Okay, so who called this meeting anyway? What's this all about? I was right in the middle of writing a brief on the latest copyright-infringement suit.

    EditorGod: Yeah? What's this one?

    CopyrightGod: Three of them, actually. Star Wars, Doctor Who, and Matrix.

    Serapharch: The Matrix? I missed that one.

    CopyrightGod: Oh, that one's brand new. Near the beginning of this very post.

    CensorGod: Pssh, who cares? Even Krig the Viking laywer couldn't win you any cases.

    The CopyrightGod brightens.

    CopyrightGod: Say, that's a great idea! He's never lost a case yet! I'll make him my anointed servant and crush these trademark-stomping jerks!

    CharacterGod: Okay, so right. The WriterGod called this meeting. I mean, seriously, who do you think you are?

    WriterGod: Who do you think I am?

    The other gods shuffle their feet uncomfortably, sans Eternius, who is too stupid/blithe/arrogant.

    Eternius the Omnarrator: You're the weakest underdog of this here group, is what. Little snot.

    The other gods blanch at his bold words. The WriterGod, whose face we cannot see clearly, remains calm and quiet. The HorseGod tries to defuse the tension.

    HorseGod: Nah, he ain't the weakest. I mean, really, I'm the god of freakin' horses.

    The WriterGod smiles.

    WriterGod: The pen may be mightier than the sword, but have you ever heard of one standing up to a trampling horse?

    The other gods laugh, the tension relieved at the WriterGod's self-deprecating joke.

    CensorGod: Anyway, what's up, Dubya-Gee?

    WriterGod: A... momentous development has occurred. One that merits your attention.

    EditorGod: But not yours?

    WriterGod: *softly* Nothing has to merit my attention. Everything gets it.

    Phractal: What is this development?

    The WriterGod tells them, and for the first time in 30 pages, the other gods of the Eternal Pantheon feel fear.

  38. #1358
    Virgin Fleet Admiral

    There is One... I Mean, Two, They Fear

    Currently conked out by Rachel's frying pan, Al Ciao's unguarded consciousness is very susceptible to the memories floating around them.

    And he dreams...

    Quote Originally Posted by Page 58
    In a time and place far removed from the other heroes, a castle floats in a dark sky filled with stars and nebulae, black holes and quasars. Wicked towers and soaring ogees buttress the citadel, which conveniently has a spooky soundtrack playing through it, coming out of the very walls in a susurrus of maddening siren screams. The fortress towers up leagues in the sky, and fathoms below into quarries of hovering rock.

    On the edge of a balcony before a ebony gate, a form stirs. The form is wracked with age, wrinkles lining the skin, long fingernails curling into claws, long waves of white foam spilling down its back, partially concealing a tattered black cape, which itself covers a black tunic and trousers with red sash and shades sharply blue eyes, which are just now beginning to flutter

    Highemperor: Ughhhhhh... where am I?

    A booming voice answers him.

    Booming Voice: Beyond the threshold of life and the pale of eternity.

    Highemp: *struggling against the force of his age and his weakness to sit up* Impossible. There is nothing beyond eternity.

    Booming Voice: Then consider yourself to have passed beyond the realms of the possible.

    Highemp: *looking up* What? But- Morthrandur!

    The Sepulchral Phantom, clad in night-blue robes and swathed in the depths of the darkness of the purest soul, bows his(?) hooded head.

    Morthrandur: Yes, Highemperor. You are in *unintelligible whisper* ...

    Highemp, however, seems to understand exactly what Morthrandur has said, and shudders.

    Highemp: But how... did I get here? I was dying...

    Morthrandur waits, silently, a ghost of another realm, and of a sudden, Highemperor remembers.

    Highemp: I died with a prayer on my lips. Because I had lived in dreams too long, I ... *bowing his head into a bare whisper* I cried out for a place beyond the shimm'ring veil of even the eternity I knew face-to-face.

    Morthrandur: And your cry pierced that veil.

    Highemp: Bringing me here... But why am I so aged and weak?

    Morthrandur: You spent all your power... reservoirs of power placed in you by your writer long ago that not even you knew you had... getting here, coming here to a place where you do not belong.

    Highemp: And you? How did you get here?

    Morthrandur: *his voice becoming a susurrus of deadly whispers* I am the agent of Forever.

    Highemp stares into the void beneath Morthrandur's hood for a moment, as though trying to penetrate the darkness there.

    Highemp: And what of the others? The other heroes? writers? worlds?

    Morthrandur: They are not of Forever, as you and I are.

    Highemp: You're good at giving me a bare minimum of information, aren't you?

    Morthrandur says nothing, silent.

    Highemp: Who do I face in this castle... this Forever?

    Morthrandur: *after a long hesitation* ... Yourself.

    And with that, the Sepulchral Phantom is gone in a wash of shadow and fire.
    Although the memory fades from Al's dreaming mind, the camera pans away from his subconscious and the other heroes on Memory Lane, to that very place Al just remembered...

    Though this ominous-yet-majestic stronghold is grand indeed, the grandest keep, the largest, sits on the opposite edge of the citadel from the obsidian gate, and dwarfs many of the tall towers around it. Atop it sprout a multitude of miniature citadels with great turrets, and from those emit the grandest, tallest spire of them all, piercing the nonexistent sky beyond Forever, twice as tall as the rest of the castle.

    Upon the very top floor of the spire is a throne room, as large as a shopping mall in Shangai. An imposing but empty throne dominates. For dramatic effect, there are cobwebs and dust and shadows on the throne, whilst the rest of the chamber is brightly lit.

    Several entities converse around a circle of magical sigils, made of glowing light and fire, inscribed upon the marble floor.

    Entity #1: The Highemperor surfaces.

    Entity #2: Yes, in that hideous realm he calls home.

    Entity #3: His plane of origin perhaps, but not his home.

    Entity #5: With his treachery, he may once again deem it such.

    Entity #6: This we knew, thus keeping an eye on it - wait, where is Entity #4?

    Entity #2: He's off being crucified in some epic saga or other. Said he'd be back by five o'clock.

    Entity #5: Oops. I promised him I'd go and watch it. He's gonna be mad.

    Entity #1: Psh, so conjure an avatar and send it back in time.

    Entity #5: I dunno, Entity #4's pretty good at spotting retcons.

    Entity #2: Anyway! We've been keeping an eye on the Highemperor's home plane should he surface there-- What's the place called again?

    Entity #3: The NeSiverse.

    Entity #2: Right. And there is some stirring amidst the major power bases there. Apparently rumors of the Highemperor's return are circulating.

    Entity #6: Rumors, only?

    Entity #1: Never discount the rumors of the powerful, as we all well know.

    Entity #5: Psh. Powerful for their home multiverse maybe. Nothing to us.

    Entity #3: Of course. That goes without saying.

    Entity #2: Therefore, I shall travel to their little "grand conclave" as they are calling it, and demand answers regarding the whereabouts of our onetime supreme leader.

    Entity #6: Grandiloquently, of course. You want to borrow my spare astral fireworks?

    Entity #2: Sure, thanks.


    The aforementioned grand conclave of all the great powers of the NeSiverse obviously can't be in any of their home territories. Politics, of course. Even deities aren't exempt from it. If Otto von Bismarck ascended to divinity, he'd be the ultimate NeS god.

    So the conclave is taking place in the convention center of the Marriott Luna, that hotel chain's branch on the moon colony. Delegates from all over the universe are attending.

    From Hero Force One: Seraphim & Acidspitter.

    From Olympus: Monkey King & Nick.

    From Magium: Hermes Trismegistus & Cool Matty.

    From Hell: Helebon and Darkside3000, via Skype from their imprisonment within the Darkfoil (currently possessed by TLTE, within the folds of his frilly pink ballgown).

    From the Eternal Pantheon: Eternius the Omnarrator & the HorseGod.

    Master Arkng Thand.

    Ohgmorkoth: An alien deity, supreme ruler of the outer galaxies.


    High Imp.

    The WriterGod.

    Master Thand: I call this grand conclave to order.

    Darkside3000: Point of protocol. Master Thand, aren't you currently with the NeS heroes? Won't they notice that you're missing?

    Thand: They are not in reference at the moment, meaning they're essentially in an unconscious stasis. When next a post involves them, I shall be back, as if I had never been gone.

    Ohgmorkoth: Master Thand, though I am grateful you sought out the non-Earth powers to invite us, I'm not sure what is horrific enough to affect all of us.

    High Imp: You mean, besides me?

    The other powers shift uneasily. High Imp's nigh-infinite power comes from the unbreakable pacts he has made with most of the beings in this room, the intersecting contracts ensuring - by his design, not theirs - that none can claim him.

    Eternius the Omnarrator: Now, now, m'boy, you're a mite scary looking, but just 'cause I made you my herald--

    High Imp glares malevolently at the pompous Supreme Being, and even he has the sense to feel a prick of fear.

    Eternius: Shutting up.

    Master Thand: Thank you, Master Imp.

    High Imp's reply is a soft growl.

    High Imp: Of course, Adai.

    Suppressed gasps murmur through the conclave, many of whom previously were not quite certain why such an unimposing human would be at such a grand gathering.

    Sitting unobtrusively in the back, the WriterGod smiles fondly at Thand and High Imp, though they do not see him, or if they do, choose to ignore him. High Imp and Thand were once his greatest servants and champions, before they turned away, but for all that, the WriterGod still loves them, and is, yes, proud of them.

    Thand gestures aside, and Hermes Trismegistus addresses the assembly.

    Hermes Trismegistus: Gathered beings, this is what Master Thand and I have learned. Britt the Writer and Al Ciao the Writer are back.

    There is a sudden hush, the whispers stilling as surely as though they'd been dropped down a canyon - and then there is a babble of shouts and groans and cries of panic. Hermes raises his hands for silence, to no avail. High Imp surveys the panicked beings with an amused smile, but at a pleading nod from Hermes, acquiesces to use a charm to silence them.

    Hermes Trismegistus: We knew this would happen. Alone, Britt the Writer contrives epic, world-scale plot devices. Alone, Al Ciao the Writer once shattered the very cosmos; now, though he seems harmless enough, Britt the Writer resonates with him to bring out his epic side again. Together...

    He trails off. There is no need to finish. The others know the grandiose sagas of the twin terrors could alter them, their multiverse, and their status in it, in ways they can't imagine. Thand speaks, however, and his voice is pleasant, as if he's ordering a glass of wine.

    Master Thand: What would you suggest we do, Master Trismegistus?

    Hermes Trismegistus: We must unite. We have most of us invested significant fractions of our power in High Imp. We must allow him to channel yet more, that he might meet the threat these two Writers pose.

    There are angry outcries at this, since these beings have been cheated by High Imp once already.

    HorseGod: Never! We must look to Geb the Writer to protect us from them!

    Morthrandur: Controlled access, gentlebeings. Conduits that can be cut off at will. Ye cannot take back the power already given, but this new channelling can be.

    This seems to placate most of the powers somewhat.

    Hermes Trismegistus: Cool Matty, you too must contribute some of your essence to High Imp. Your latent destiny as NeSorcerer... it may be the edge we need.

    Master Thand: Or, all this epic investiture may be all the edge Britt and Al Ciao the Writers need...

    His voice is a soft whisper, but High Imp hears and smirks at him.

    It is then that the doors to the Marriott Luna burst open in a gale of wind and lashing rain, lightning streaking behind to illuminate a figure standing in the doorway.

    Acidspitter: Lightning and rain? On the moon?

    The newcomer strides in, pulling back a black hood to reveal features not unlike Viggo Mortensen's in Lord of the Rings.

    Entity #2: I am Knightlord Thorn, Keeper of the Keys of the Nexus, Doorwarden of Forever, Luminescence of a Thousand Dimensions. I come from... the Stronghold of Powergamers.

    The majority of the gathered powers stare blankly at him, not recognizing the name. Ohgmorkoth's eyes widen. He has heard tell of that place, and of the epic havoc they wreak across realities far removed from their own. Thand's expression betrays nothing, but he seems to know of it.

    Hermes Trismegistus, Cool Matty, and High Imp know nothing of the Stronghold of Powerplayers... but anything suggesting a gathering of powerplayers they know to be very ominous indeed.

    Entity #2/Knightlord Thorn: I am in the Stronghold's High Pantheon of the Throne. We are the realm of the greatest, most majestic, most uber-beyond-divine munchkins in all the realities and unrealisties of Anti-Existentessence.

    There is a dramatic pause as he surveys the assembly.

    Knightlord Thorn: The Highemperor was our Supreme Emperor God.

    Gasps of terror ripple through his audience, seeming to please the powerplayer.

    Knightlord Thorn: For uncounted aeons, we had awaited the coming of the greatest powerplayer of all Anti-Existentessence, for we knew, in accordance with our supreme prophesying, that there was such a one. And he came, not quite 8 years ago as you reckon time.

    His voice lowers, and a boom of thunder punctuates his words.

    Knightlord Thorn: But he betrayed us. Blasphemed that we, himself included, could never be satisfied. He nearly redeemed himself by powerplaying well enough to destroy all of us, but renounced his munchkinism and fled. We have been searching for him.

    His gaze sweeps the room and fixes on Master Thand.

    Knightlord Thorn: And the oracles inscribed in our souls tell us that you know where he is to be found...

  39. #1359
    Meanwhile, in that most feared and mundane realm of the Writers, where scumbag storytellers script the next Annual Apocalypse of the Ages, a certain editor stares at his computer screen -- Gebohq the Writer. He does his best at the moment to tune out the constant yelling of Britt and Al Ciao the Writers.

    And fails again.

    Geb the Writer: For once, there's people posting like there's no tomorrow, and yet there's something missing...

    The computer screen blinks the blank NeS Notes site in front of him.

    Gebohq the Writer: Something that's most certainly not the NeS Notes website I should be working on...

    A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity calls him. He lets it go to voicemail.

    Gebohq the Writer: Something that's yet to be touched on in the NeS itself...

    Good Storytelling does not even bother to flag for attention, instead opting to remain with people who actually make money and know how to treat it to a night it'll never forget.

    Gebohq the Writer: Aha! I know what it's missing!


    In the world of the Never-ending Story thread, the conflict-instigating Rachel randomly decides to run into the fair main character maiden, Losien.


    Losien: Gah! What was that all about? I thought those things only came about when the situation needed a benevolent, upward, mobility push!

    Rachel: It did, and that situation was you. Be grateful I was being benevolent about it -- next time, I'll push you right off a cliff.

    Losien: Right... and that'll solve your problem.

    Rachel: Yes, and--wait. I mean, Geb will get over it--or rather, killing a good guy without due cause is fine when--er...

    Rachel folds her arms, grumbles, and plods away to see if maybe Al Ciao needs another random smack in the head.

  40. #1360
    Tea-sipper, character-killer

    Post Me-to-You

    Memory Lane...

    Losien: "Where'd Krig go?"

    Geb: "Why, I don't know."

    Darkside: "'ll never see him again."

    Losien: "What are you talking about? I'm sure we'll see him."

    Darkside: "Don't be so sure. He's in Canada."

    Geb: "Canada?"

    Losien: "Why is he in Canada?"

    Darkside: "Because."

    Geb: "Because why?"

    Darkside: " None of your business."

    Geb: "Is too!"

    Losien: "Stop! You both sound like a couple of little children. What's going on?"

    Geb: "He started it!"

    Darkside: "No, he did."

    Losien: "Please, stop."

    //Everyone sighs//

    Geb: "Come on Losien, let's get out of here."

    Darkside: "Fine, leave...but I still will win Losien's soul."

    Geb: "No you won't, not if I have anything to d..."

    Losien: (cuts Geb off) "It doesn't matter Geb. Don't worry. I don't even have a soul."

    Darkside: "What? You don't have a soul? What are you?"

    Geb: "Losien, you know that's not true. You have a beautif.."

    Losien: (covers her ears and screams) "No I don't, no I don't."

    //Losien stands there remembering the times when she was younger. When she was happy. The time she met the Sugar Plum Fairy in Candyland. The only time she was truly happy in life//

    Geb: "Come on Losien. Let's go somewhere to catch up on things."

    Losien: (sobbing) " OK..*sniff*), OK"
    Soriel: Wait, what? Losien, you have no soul?

    Rachel: I knew it!

    Losien: Well...

    Al Ciao: Wow, just think of all the super awesome powers you must have!

    Rachel: Oi, idiot boy! Don't you start with all that!

    Al Ciao:

    Does this mean you sold it?

    Al Ciao: Wow, yeah! Does this mean I own Losien's soul!?

    Losien: No, Al. I just never had one. Maybe when I was very little, but not since I can really remember. I think it was... taken.

    Amal: The stench of plot.

    The background scene changes and we see Krig the Viking in the middle of Detroit along with Mr T, a long-term sub-hero of the NeS. They both climb into a dodge viper which they recognise to belong to Ares but the driver clearly is not him.

    As the car thief drives away with the two in the back, the whole scene begins to rush past the Current Heroes instilling a sense of vertigo.

    The Otter: This is... horrible...

    Al Ciao actually falls over whilst everyone else tries to keep their balance; save for Arkng Thand who stands perfectly still (despite the appearance that he has just returned from elsewhere...).

    Soriel: Maybe if we all climb on the car it won't feel so weird?

    Losien: Good idea, Soriel.

    Each hero clambers onto the dodge viper and instantly the world is moving with them rather than against them and they all sigh with relief. Unfortunately the car suddnely stops and the Current Heroes all topple from the car in a muddle.

    Soriel: Somebody is holding my sword...

    Losien: Sorry, it's the cape...

    After a lot of scrambling they all manage to get to their feet just in time to be pulled to Page 12.

    B. U. M. P.

    (Benevolent Upward Mobility Post)
    Losien: Those letters seem to appear often in the NeS, I have noticed. Maybe there's a conspiracy...

    Arkng Thand: Even back then they suffered against the Writer's Block.

    Al Ciao: Sacrilege! The Writer's can always overcome the Writer's Block!

    Rachel: Are you going back to that again? I wonder if I can knock it out of you.

    Amal: Like electroshock therapy for gay people?

    Rachel: Yeah!

    Amal: Ie, it doesn't work because it's not something you can "cure".

    Rachel: Yeah!

    Al Ciao: Uh... So you'd just be beating me without any gain.

    Rachel: There'd be plenty of gain... for me.

    Amal: Are you... a sadist?

    Losien: Poor Geb...

    Rachel: Wait. No! I'm not a sadist and I don't beat Geb up! Just this pain in the backside.

    Losien: I always understood the Powergaming aspect, but it does kind of seem like you're just looking for reasons to beat him now...

    Soriel: Rachel? Do you secretly fancy Al Ciao?

    Amal: You should probably tell Gebohq, you know?

    Al Ciao: I'm not sure I like where this is going...

    The Otter: We need some dramatic soap opera music!

    Rachel: No, no need. For any of this. I am not in love with Al Ciao-

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Who said anything about love? A good shagging is-

    Soriel: Quiet!

    Rachel: ... I love Gebohq. I'm still angry at him, but I do love him. And I will get him back. Al Ciao is just a pain and needs to be reminded not to over-reach.

    Amal: When he's powerplaying, yes. But now?

    Rachel: His WriterGod joke is running thin and wasn't even funny the first time.

    Al Ciao: Hey...

    (walking out of White Castle)

    Otter: "Well, I had fun."

    Los: "Me too."

    Otter: "We should get together again sometime and do something different. Do you like bowling?"

    Los: "I love bowling! I haven't been in so long though. That would be a lot of fun."

    Otter: "Ok, how about tomorrow?"

    Los: (thinks to herself) "Tomorrow is great. I have nothing else planned."

    Otter: "OK, great. I'll pick you up at 3:00 PM."

    Los: "OK."

    Otter: "So now where to?"

    Los: "Well, I don't really have anything to do."

    Otter: "Me either. Would you like to come over? We could play a game or something. Anything but Candyland."

    Los: (laughs) "OK..sounds like fun."

    (At Otter's House)

    Otter: "Have a seat. Make yourself at home."

    Los: "Yes..ok."

    Otter: "Would you like something to drink?"

    Los: " I'm fine."

    Otter: "Are you sure?"

    Los: "Yes."

    (Otter walks into another room and comes out with a few different board games)

    Otter: "Well, we have 'Trouble', 'Life', and 'Battleship'. Which would you like to play?"

    Los: "I think we should play 'Life'"

    Otter: "OK, sounds like fun."
    Our Current Heroes each look first from the present Otter then to Losien and then back to The Otter.

    Amal: You two... dated?

    Rachel: And she'd only just finished with Joe the Sound Guy... hussy.

    Losien: It was just dating...

    The Otter: Yeah, we totally hit it off. We were awesome together.

    Losien: Otter, you're not helping...

    Al Ciao: I think someone already said the word "Glee" earlier, right?

    Soriel: Well, teen drama certainly has... conflict.

    KnowSoul: It certainly does...

    The Heroes about-face to see KnowSoul so close to them.

    Maeve: Finally, we've got him now! Soriel!

    Soriel, unleashed, draws Fred and dashes straight at KnowSoul. His strike skims the darkness that surrounds the fearsome being. Soriel makes another swipe but KnowSoul manages to evade yet again.

    KnowSoul: Soriel, the once Forgotten swordsman. You could still be consumed by me, Jupiter-born. I could use your soul for my endeavour. Wouldn't you like to be a part of that? You were a villain once, remember?

    Soriel: I turned from that path.

    The fight between the two continues on, but Soriel cannot seem to land a solid blow. The other heroes race after them but both Soriel and KnowSoul seem to possess super-human speed.

    KnowSoul: You are not TLTE, Soriel. You have no ultimate destiny to fulfill and you did not turn from villainy so that you could become a purer being.

    Soriel: Shut up and fight me!

    KnowSoul: You joined the Heroes because... boredom was it?

    Soriel: No...

    KnowSoul: Ah, that's right. Self-preservation. You understand that the Central Cast of Characters is the key to longevity and life. Villains are always ultimately defeated, aren't they?

    Soriel didn't reply with words, only his sword. Finally it struck in a jab straight through the powerful foe. Once stuck Soriel kicked KnowSoul backwards, off the sword and to the ground.

    Soriel: Your words are meaningless.

    KnowSoul: What if I told you that the villains do not always lose? Do you understand what happened at the end of Page 50 of the original NeS?

    Soriel: No...

    KnowSoul: It was not the NeS Heroes that won... but that is something you may see for yourself here in Memory Lane.

    Soriel pauses, trying to piece together the information he had learnt from the other Heroes about the actions of Page 50. However as he did so, Soriel allows KnowSoul time to stand and appear over the swordsman.

    Arkng Thand: A villain feigning injury cannot kill, only hinder.

    KnowSoul's cloak forms into a jagged spike that lunges towards Soriel. The young man tries to parry, using Fred, but his distraction made him slow. The spike plunges into Soriel's right shoulder and he cries out with sudden shock.

    KnowSoul: Master Thand. Your Story Conventions will only serve to slow me down, you cannot stop me.

    With that, KnowSoul disappears to the next page, leaving the heroes catching up, once again, to Soriel and Arkng Thand. The old man stands over Soriel.

    Arkng Thand: Foolish. We are intent on defeating KnowSoul the wrong way. He cannot be stopped by conventionally means.

    Losien: But Soriel is the only one that can ever match KnowSoul for speed.

    Amal: Uncle Thand is right...

    Amal kneels down beside Soriel and inspects the wound.

    Amal: All this has got us is an injured party member. Soriel won't be able to wield his sword for a while.

    Al Ciao: So now he's useless?

    Rachel: Actually, that sounds more like you...

    Al Ciao: Harsh.

    Rachel: You reap what you sow! Don't diss others if you don't want to be dissed.

    Al Ciao: Uh... fine. I'm sure Soriel has plenty of uses or even character depth to add to the team.

    Soriel: I can still walk and I'll be fine once my arm's healed.

    Amal: We need to bandage his shoulder.

    Losien: We could use the cape?

    Maeve: It's too big and baggy.

    Al Ciao: You could rip it up?

    Losien: NO!

    Carlotta, the Cape: Thank God you didn't forget me.

    Al Ciao: Oh yeah, it's alive right?

    Maeve: I'll sort it...

    Maeve whips off her T-shirt at which everyone else reels in shock, admiration and, in some cases, lust. She pulls a penknife from her pocket and attacks the T-shirt until it's turned into a belly-top. The lower half of the T-shirt is passed to Amal, who promptly ties it around Soriel's injured shoulder. Maeve returns the remains of her T-shirt to cover her chest.

    The Otter: Come back...

    Al Ciao: Please don't leave...

    Soriel: Thanks Maeve.

    Maeve: Yeah, well, I owed you one.

    Soriel: Losien. You never got the NeS Sword from Gebohq, did you?

    Losien: No. He still has that.

    Soriel: Well, I can't use mine and the main character should have a powerful sword. So here. Take mine.

    Losien: Are you sure!?

    Soriel: Yes. At least as a loan. Once I'm healed then I will want it back. But for now, he's in your charge.

    Rachel: First you take his cape, now his sword... anything else you want, Losien? How about his shoes?

    Carlotta, the Cape: Or his underwear?

    Losien: Quiet, cape!

    Losien takes the hilt of Soriel's sword in her small hands and instantly feels as though there is something inside it, something alive. She feels powerful.

    Fred, Teh Uber Blade: Oh yeah, baby. Hold me good and tight.

    Losien: AHHH!
    Last edited by TheBritt; 05-19-2012 at 12:40 AM.

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