All right ... which one of you did it?

[Kankfly]

Hey, I like that they mentioned Zalanthas. Even though I was wtfing on all the places. And also, at least you aren't besieged by bad writing. Did they stop mentioning Zalanthas after the beginning? If they did, they should mention it moar.

Hopefully, someone will write a pure Zalanthan fanfic one day.

[Marauder Moe]

 

What the...

Of all the potential Armageddon fanfic crossovers... TRANSFORMERS?!?

Weirdo.

I'd do Star Trek.

[Rhyden]

...?

[brytta.leofa]

In 2010, I'll be transcribing one Harry Potter chapter a week in Armageddon Log format.  You will all feel tortured but unable to stop reading them.

Someone removes something.
The tousle-headed, spectacled lad fades into existence.
The bucktoothed, ginger-haired lass fades into existence.
The tall, flame-haired male fades into existence.

[deviant storm]

In 2010, I'll be transcribing one Harry Potter chapter a week in Armageddon Log format.  You will all feel tortured but unable to stop reading them.

Someone removes something.
The tousle-headed, spectacled lad fades into existence.
The bucktoothed, ginger-haired lass fades into existence.
The tall, flame-haired male fades into existence.

Do it. It should be an entertaining read. Sometimes I do think we Armers take ourselves a little too seriously.

[AmandaGreathouse]

In 2010, I'll be transcribing one Harry Potter chapter a week in Armageddon Log format.  You will all feel tortured but unable to stop reading them.

Someone removes something.
The tousle-headed, spectacled lad fades into existence.
The bucktoothed, ginger-haired lass fades into existence.
The tall, flame-haired male fades into existence.

I'm not sure what you mean by tortured.  I know I won't be able to put them down, though.

[Nyr]

Now who wants to write "Harry Potter visits Tuluk"?

I'd totally write that parody.

[FantasyWriter]

Code Select Expand

The tousle-headed, spectacled lad utters an incantation.

The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihean Templar arrives from the east.

The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihean Templar Bruce-Lees the tousle-headed, spectacled lad with one finger.

The tousle-headed, spectacled lad crumples to the ground.


The end.

[deviant storm]

Code Select Expand

The tousle-headed, spectacled lad utters an incantation.

The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihean Templar arrives from the east.

The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihean Templar Bruce-Lees the tousle-headed, spectacled lad with one finger.

The tousle-headed, spectacled lad crumples to the ground.


The end.

Tsk. That was utterly predictable.

[Cutthroat]

The plot is: Harry Potter is hunting for Voldemote, He Who Must Not Be Targeted By Name.

[Gagula]

I must admit, these stories have added more spice to the game....am I going to run across a giant robot in the waste.....or maybe a drop pod....or perchance that I shall come across myself...in another time-line, but I can accurately fly a ship in space....none of that turning crap!

[FantasyWriter]

Code Select Expand

The tousle-headed, spectacled lad utters an incantation.

The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihean Templar arrives from the east.

The ancient, brutally-scarred Jihean Templar Bruce-Lees the tousle-headed, spectacled lad with one finger.

The tousle-headed, spectacled lad crumples to the ground.


The end.

Tsk. That was utterly predictable.

As is the end to all Tuluki mages.

[Shalooonsh]

Moderated my own post for IC info.

Wow, how the crap did I let that get in there?

Nothing to see here.  Move along.  Move along.

[Shalooonsh]

There.  That should just about do it.

A Place Not Quite Home

  The tavern's backroom was cramped, the air stifling and hot from lack of windows.  Each breath ached on my lungs, the dry atmosphere packed with the reek of humanoid bodies, stale beer, and odd smokes.  I'd not eaten in days, but such was not a problem for one trained as I had been.  I focused out the hunger yet again as the aromas of spiced meat and pie wafted through the room, forcing the knot of concentration down into my stomach, imagining it being dissolved as any foodstuff would be.  I leaned back, fully aware of the titanic mass behind me, and the fact that, again, it was cracking its knuckles.  The woman across the table simply stared, her male counterpart taking his leisurely time inspecting my pack.

  For them I was no match in style.  My simple blue-piped pants, sandals, and white shirt held no comparison against full robes of red or white silk, spangly medallions of state, and keen yet primitive weaponry.  The red-clad male's jewel-encrusted fighting glove dipped again into the pack, pulling out a ration bar, lips pursed as he examined the packaging.

  I felt no fear, even though a full three of the behemoths, all clad in primitive armor, were packed into the tight room along with these two.  My saber could cleave through the lot of them with small trouble, and I envisioned a few ways to do so with a minimum of strokes.  I dropped my attention to my fingernails, plucking out a small splinter that had found a home there.  I'd learned in many lessons that heads of state, no matter how primitive, must be shown respect if they are to be allies.  For this I suffered the indescretions of being herded into this room, of having my personal belongings gone through, and of having hours and hours of questions dragged out with the same answers.

  The woman spoke again, her voice like a razor covered in silk and sugar.  "So you were born in a small town on the sands... grew up as a repairman for your aunt and uncle, and decided to go off on your own and wage a one-man war against the Empire?"  She looked incredulous as she stared across the table, the frown etched on her slender lips ruining the natural beauty of her face.

  I nodded to her, unwilling to give up another word to questions that have already been answered.  She continued.  "And once your family was killed, and you were on your own, you found others of the same mind?  This... rebellion, you call it?"  Something flashed behind her eyes, and I caught vague thoughts of rebellion in her own mind, songs and stories spinning out from a plethora of performances, telling the tales of the long dead and remembered.  Jagged stone knives, quartz tipped spears, and sturdy wooden shields rising up against unholy oppressors clad in obsidian and jade.  I nodded again.

  The man in red pulled my saber from the pack and frowned, clicking his lacquered fingernail against the metal housing.  His finger was straying dangerously close to the trigger, and I worked to turn his interest towards other matters.  His will was incredibly strong for a common man, and it felt as if something else dampened my abilities, but after a few moments he replaced the item and pulled out a scanner.  The woman's frown grew sharper.

  "Tell me again the name of your home village, wanderer?"  We'd gone over this countless times.  Typical process, repeat the questions ad nauseum until the subject broke and revealed the truth.  Except in this case, they wouldn't accept the truths I was giving.  I took a deep breath.

  "Anchorhead, Faithful Lady.  The town's name is Anchorhead, and as we've already discussed, you've never heard of it."  Her face darkened further, and I knew I'd raised her ire.  Again.  My patience was almost endless, and this little discussion was testing those limits.  "Listen, I should really get going..." I focused my will, I felt the power begin to course through my spine, up to my frontal lobe where it focused towards the red and white inquisitors.  "I don't think there's any thing else we need to discuss."  I felt the suggestion flow out of my mind, towards the both of them.

  The red clan man turned towards his white robed companion, putting the scanner back into the satchel.  "Well, Faithful Lady Iluya, I don't think there's anything else we need to discuss here."  Good.  Finally we were getting somewhere.

  I spoke up, my tone gentle, non-aggressive.  Conversational.  "I've answered all your questions, and I should stop wasting your time.  You have many duties more important than questioning a scruffy nerf herder."

  As the man pushed the bag across the table with a hand obviously trained for war, he parroted my suggestions.  "He's answered all our questions, Faithful Lady, and it's all just a waste of time.  We've more important things to do than question this scruffy..." a look of confusion came over his face.

  The moment of hesitation allowed the white clad woman, this Faithful Lady Iluya, to reach out and take control of my satchel.  Her hand lanced into it, pulling out the long barrel of my saber.  She stared at me, her deep grey eyes narrowing.  I felt vast suspicion, a hint of worry, trepidation... then nothing.  I reached my mind towards her thoughts, encountering only what could be described of as a perfect mirror.  I could neither see the edges of it, or through it, so perfect a reflection was it of my own thoughts.  I'd never encountered its like.

  Her voice, soft and composed, slid across my ears like a serpent.  "Tell me again how you came into possession of so much metal?"  Metal?  I'd noticed there wasn't much of it around, but could this actually be a pre-industrial society?  Marvelously advanced, if so, but why the question if it was not?

  Something was definitely off here.  This was the focus of the inquisition... not me, but the metal I carried.  I knew that for certain from the thoughts of her male counterpart.  "I built it myself under the tutelage of my master.  I'd be glad to write a..."

  I didn't even see him move, one moment he was sitting, and the next his chair hit the back of the room and his fingers lanced against my forehead.  Before I had even started to fall, another blow took me in the throat, then the wind was knocked out of me by the impact of the entire planet hitting me in the back.  All these clues told me it was time to stop fucking around.

  I continued my momentum, legs coming up to boot the table towards the two silk clad officials, my feet then continuing up into the groin of the behemoth humanoid who stood above me, staring down at me with confusion.  His eyes, moments later, became plates of pain, rolling back into his head as his jewels crumpled under my bootheel.  He fell backwards, my thrusting legs picking my body up and arcing me gracefully over, with a little help from the Force, to land dramatically on his chest.

  My hand flipped out, I grasped at the steel tube laying eight feet away on the floor, and hauled it through the air towards me.  It met my grip, a cool kiss against my hot flesh, and my thumb tripped the trigger.  Four feet of glowing death sprang from the end, just in time to intersect the massive double-bitted axe that one of the behemoths heaved my way, which then fell to the ground in pieces.  Wasting no time, I repeated the process on its wielder, showering the walls around us with gore and staining my white cloth shirt.

  Forming my hand into an extended palm with two fingers upraised, I pushed towards the mind of the red clad man, shutting it down and knocking him into slumber.  He fell over rapidly, a heap of man who was deadly when awake, now as gentle as a child.  I repeated the gesture on the remaining bodyguard, whos size was greater than any Gammorean I'd ever seen.  They were just as dull witted, if not more so, and its mind crumpled like paper under my will.

  It was me and the Faithful Lady, her unarmed, and me with a lit lightsaber.  My will focused on hers, our minds clashing in the air over the displaced table and rivulets of blood.  Her perfect face marred by spatters of claret and a vast frown of concentration.  I poured all my training, all my bond with the Force, all of my will towards her.  The air seethed with energy in turmoil as I struggled to knock down her defenses.  I heard a footstep behind me, and my body went slack, the light saber powering down as it fell from my numb fingers.

  Another lady in white stepped over my tangled form, my eyes still open to regard her briefly in a way most intimate as she her robes brushed over my face.  Her voice was gentle, composed, and rather agreeably diplomatic as she spoke, "I'm sorry, Mister Skywalker, but that's simply not how things are done around here.  This magick you have brought us is most unique, something like I've never seen.  It looks Elkran, but has properties of Suk-Krath as well."  What?  I had no idea what she was talking about.  She dropped a slightly bloodied wine bottle on the ground beside me, likely the one that had hit the back of my skull.

  Her eyes met mine, no malice in them, more pity and composure than hatred at the deaths that I'd caused.  I struggled to remain awake, but the blow to the back of my head was slowly squeezing conciousness away.  "We will have many talks, Mister Skywalker, and you will teach me of all you know.  Who your master is, what the weaknesses of the Empire of Allanak are, and, most of all, how to use this fabulous sword you've brought us.  Tukas, pick him up and take him to the Heart for questioning."

  She turned the cold steel tube of my saber over in her hand, light slipping completely from my eyes, leaving me with the words, "I'm afraid we've a long conversation ahead of us.  And I was so looking forward to visiting Dasari for a mud facial and pedicure.  I'm afraid this puts me right out," echoing in my pounding head.

 

[titansfan]

I wonder if one of the Fale Wagons actually turns into something similar to BumbleBee??

[morrigan]

hahaha...very nice Shalooonsh.

[deviant storm]

Now that was good, Shalooonsh.

[Gunnerblaster]

That was awesome, 'looonsh.

[Yam]

What have you horrible sons of bitches done.

[Synthesis]

Oh man, now Tuluk is so screwed.

[LauraMars]

Yeah, the Millennium Falcon is on the way to blow a new crater in that little moon.

[brytta.leofa]

Yeah, the Millennium Falcon is on the way to blow a new crater in that little moon.

Gorram storytellers, can't even tell a smugglin' skimmer don't carry--

A look of panicked confusion comes over the face of the fair-skinned, bespectacled male, and he sits down rather hard on the ground.

[The7DeadlyVenomz]

That was awesome, Loon.

[Potaje]

very nice, kudos.

[Gagula]

My hat to you, good sir.