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Postby Masteroftheweb on Wed Apr 04, 2007 10:32 am

...

That doesn't even make sense...
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Postby deathtrooper on Wed Apr 04, 2007 12:31 pm

But..but pony...
There are three types of people in this world.
People who make things happen.
People who watch things happen.
And people who wonder what the hell happened.
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Postby Masteroftheweb on Wed Apr 04, 2007 12:57 pm

NO DT!

You are not allowed to touch the pony's private places!
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Postby ChibiBecca on Wed Apr 04, 2007 1:28 pm

a supermarket recently sent out a statement on how their sales were great and blahblahblah, and how easter was about the birth of jesus.

they then released their mistake and corrected it to 'rebirth'.

they then had to correct it a third time, after consulting with some churches. >>;




obviously they're so busy teaching about chickens, easter eggs, how to speak chinese and 'bristishness' in schools, that they've left out the meanings behind our celebrations.
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Postby vden on Wed Apr 04, 2007 1:31 pm

Reading this thread, I am reminded of the legend of Walter Trowdel and the Razor Tongued Death Serpent of South Thornshire;

Once upon a time, there was a young fisherman's son named Walter Trowdel, who lived in the small coastal town of Thornshire. Every Sunday before church, young Walter would go fishing in the shallow river with a little red rod that his father had made specially for him. One particular Sunday, Walter caught an old looking fish. It was long and thin like a snake, had nine spiky, red fins along its back and was covered in glittering silver scales. After spending a minute or two trying to figure out what kind of fish it was, young Walter placed the strange fish in his basket along with all the other, normal fish that he had caught that day.

On the way home young Walter carried the basket of fish over his shoulder. He had caught a lot of fish and looked forward to getting home so his mother could cook them. The fish left over could then be taken to market by Walter and his father on Monday and sold. Walter had so many fish that he was sure that they would make a lot of money at market on Monday.

But as Walter walked home, he felt something moving in the basket and strange noises could be heard. Walter stopped, put the basket on the ground and opened it up to see what was making all the noise. It was the odd, snake-like silver fish. The silver fish had eaten all of the other fish in the basket and was wriggling about looking for more food. Now, because of the greedy silver fish, Walter had no fish for his mother to cook and no fish for his fisherman father to sell.

Walter sat down and looked at the long, silver and now not-so-thin fish and wondered what to do with it. Its spiky fins and hard silver scales made it look like it wouldn't be nice to eat so Walter's mother would probably not cook it and if it didn't look good to eat then probably no one would buy it. After sitting and thinking about what to do for about half an hour, Walter threw the greedy little fish away by tossing it down the town's well. Young Water then went on his merry way and never paid any thought to the odd creature he had thrown down the well.

In the deepest, unlighted recesses of the twisted subterranean waterways beneath the well the silver coloured serpent writhed and coiled. Beyond the light of reason the foul wyrm fed on the base mockeries of fish that convulsed and floundered in the underground tunnels carved out of the living rock by centuries of erosion and madness. Their glassy, unblinking eyes were useless in the lightless waters and so they were saved the terrible and unthinkable sight of the ever-growing malignant silver horror in its unending ravenous frenzy of feeding. Constant and unyielding was its hunger and the stygian rivers soon became saturated with the creature's offal and discarded viscera, staining the water of the well a deep reddish brown and scenting it with an deeply offensive odour of rotting fish.

And so it was that the people of Thornshire could no longer drink the water from the well and a new well had to be dug. Time went by and again the well's water became poisoned and again a new well had to be made. This happed many times over the following years, until the South side of Thornshire had a well on every street corner. Then one day disaster struck the town.

Pirates invaded, flying the flag of the dreaded Black Davy Vain. At first the Baron of Thornshire was able to fend them off with his army, but then the Pirates attacked again using long range cannons from their ships. To stop the Pirates the Baron had a ship built and assembled a crew to go out and fight the Pirates at sea. Walter, who was now not-so-young and had grown into a strong young man, joined the ship's crew and set off to fight the Pirates that were attacking the town.

It was a long battle, but eventually the Pirates left. Along with most of Thornshire's riches. Hoping to recapture some of the town's lost wealth, the Baron ordered that the ship and it's crew hunt down the Pirates responsible for attacking the town. And so it was that Walter set sail and had many adventures on the high seas. He sailed from the white and snowy cliffs of the far North, to the golden and sunny reefs of the far South. Along the way he both found and lost many riches and came face to face with many a foe but Davy Vain and his pirates remained elusive.

Meanwhile the disjointed frame of the silver creature took on an even more grotesque aspect that only a diseased fancy could ever fully conceive. The wyrm grew to an awful length. Dragging its bulky body through the underground rivers the thing scraped against the rock in a way that made the countryside tremble. Sudden tremors and an unearthly wailing from deep underground drove the inhabitants of Thornshire to insanity. Dark and unsettling dreams became commonplace amongst the townspeople and there was those who claimed the land was cursed. Bad omens broke out in Thornshire like a plague; on one night balls of fire were seen falling from the sky, on another a titan blue wing with a burning three-lobed eye flittered across the clouds and in the Southernmost barns a goat was born without skin and eyes that were turned inwards towards its head.

Prayers went unanswered. Crops failed and when unearthed appeared as though some unseen burrower had consumed their roots. In time people began to turn away from the Lord and sacrifices were made to the Old Gods in the hope of lifting the curse that had befallen the land. There were hunts, there were burnings, the finger of suspicion hovered over everyone in the town. No one was exempt from the accusations of witchcraft and devilry. Even the Baron's own wife was lost to the flames of the witch burners. But there was no end to the famine and suffering in Thornshire.

Then it happened. On one dark and stormy evening as the clouds billowed red in the fading twilight a horrible thunder-like noise rose up from the toxic ground. With an ear splitting roar and an explosive torrent of shattered earth a great, silver serpent with nine crimson blades running down its back and splintered eyes that glowed like the embers of hell tore free from its stony prison. Its twisted and malformed flesh was terrible to behold, all those who witnessed the creatures ascent were driven mad from the sight and the creature's black ethereal screams caused listeners to suffer bleeding from their eyes. Everything before the nightmare thing withered as it lurched forwards; loping and dragging its length out behind as hoops of its misshapen form propelled it at an unnatural rate. Cutting through the ground and leaving a deep trench as it moved, the colossal thing bore down on the town's weak and starving livestock.

The Baron's army rode out to face the beast, but found only oblivion. The serpent's purple, forked tongue lashed out and cleaved both horse and rider in two. Like a charnel scythe the tendrilled appendage flicked from side to side, felling the Baron's finest as if they were naught but ears of corn. Those who made it close to the serpent found the surface of its silver skin covered in a mass of sharp swirling scales that deflected their blades and broke through their armour as if it were paper. Moving ever forwards the wyrm came to the Baron's castle atop the highest hill in Thornshire and coiled itself around the tallest tower.

The Baron, along with the remains of his army and half his servants had already fled the palace, but the Baron's daughter was still within her chambers; in highest room of the tallest tower. She had been pouting in her room after an argument with her father over the low cut of her new corset. The Baron was distraught, his only child, his only living family, was trapped firmly in the grip of this toxic creature from the depths of the earth, this foul product of madness that seemed impervious to any harm. The great thing shuddered and wailed, reaching out and lashing at any moving thing that came near with its vorpal tongue and dragging the catch down the creature's wide throat. Many animals were brought before the serpent in the hope that it would eat its fill and leave; cattle, sheep even horses and dogs but the silver monster proved insatiable.

It was a dull and windy day less than a week later when a small leaky boat with a single figure on board drifted into Thornshire's docks. Even the air had been poisoned by the silver serpent, and now a thick fog lay all throughout Thornshire and the surrounding countryside. The boat docked silently and an injured, hooded sailor limped onto the jetty and made his way towards the nearest tavern. The town seemed dead, the stench of death hung in the air and the only sound that could be heard was a distant unearthly wailing. The newcomer entered the dimly lit alehouse and found it all but deserted, the only visible inhabitant was a thin shabby individual slumped behind the bar. The newcomer limped over to the shabby figure and asked what terrible things had happened to Thornshire.

The shabby figure, who unsurprisingly turned out to be the bartender, explained what had happened. He talked the newcomer through what had befallen the town indecent years; the plague of insanity drove many to suicide, the many strange omens, the witch hunts that wiped out two thirds of the population and the rise of the silver serpent made of madness and death that had poisoned the farmland and now kept the Baron's daughter trapped in the tower. The newcomer in turn told of his many adventures on the high seas, from the white and snowy cliffs of the far North, to the golden and sunny reefs of the far South. And of how along the way he had both found and lost many fortunes, of how he became captain of the ship he had left home on until he finally came face to face with the goal of his travels; the Pirate King Davy Vain and the riches he had stolen from the town of Thornshire. But Davy vain was too great a foe, and the newcomer lost both his ship and his crew to the Pirate cannons and now Captain Walter Trowdel had returned to his home town of Thornshire.

The Barkeep pointed out that if Walter was such a big shot adventurer then he should have no trouble killing the evil terror and saving what was left of Thornshire. Walter at this point would have pointed out that he only really had experience fighting other people, not Lovecraftian horrors made from the stuff of nightmares and that he did loose against the Black Davy Vain so he can't be that good an adventurer. But during all the storytelling he did have quite a lot to drink and was in a quite a state, so without really thinking or even having any idea what the silver serpent exactly was, Walter agreed to save the town. The Barkeep gave Walter a room free of charge and spread word amongst the few townspeople left alive that a great hero was here to save them.

Walter awoke the following noon to sounds of joyous cheers, howling whistles and a faint but foreboding wailing that was almost, but not completely, unlike an eerie wind. When Walter walked down the winding staircase to the waiting crowd on the ground floor of the tavern he felt a tangible air of dread, as if there was something very important that he was forgetting. As soon as he entered the main bar area and saw what was presumably the entirety of Thornshire, Baron and all gathered under a hastily made banner that had 'Hail graet hero Capt. Walter' [sic] he suddenly remembered all that talk about slaying a silver something or other. Before he new what hit him Walter was on a horse, armoured up, given the third sharpest sword the local Blacksmith had, what with the other two being so expensive, given the Baron's blessings and sent off towards the monster.

As the horse rode on through the churned and desolate landscape towards the high hill that the Baron's castle sat upon, the gravity of the situation began to dawn on Walter. Tall wooden stakes with charred corpses tethered to them populated the roadside, as far as the eye could see all plant life was withered brown, carrion birds pecked at unnameable objects that lay in he streets and at one point Walter was sure he saw some red fleshy thing about the size of a goat stumbling around in its blind search for food. Sitting on tainted rocks the Baron's castle came into view, reaching up above the revolting graveyard of the town like the corpse of some gigantic animal. Against the grey sky the movents of some great thing that parodied shape could be seen writhing around the last standing tower of the castle, the one that was once a home but now a prison to the Baron's daughter.

Although the townspeople had called it a serpent and told of the creature's vast size none of their descriptions could have prepared Walter for the sight of the thing. It was not quite a serpent, it was long, limbless and coiled itself around the shattered castle but there was more, its body was everywhere on the tower like a slime but had shapes. A thousand immemorial shapes of horror. It had eyes, eyes that were like glass fractured into smaller eyes lighted by some unknowable source from within. All the time its flesh was warping and churning, like a living sea of silver blades covering and scarring all that it touched, a resentful maelstrom of ultimate abomination.

At this point Walter began to have second thoughts about saving the town, and wondered if it was really a good idea to try and fight something that, let's be honest, totally pwned the Baron's entire army within mere minutes. After all, if he just rode off surely the townsfolk would just assume he got eaten by the serpent and pay him no mind. And then Walter noticed something; nine red fins on the creatures back. Something in Walters mind clicked and he came to a revelation. That strange little silver fish he caught when he was a child had nine red fins on its back, never stopped eating all the time he had it and the well he dropped it in became poisoned shortly afterwards. Now there was this silver monster with nine red fins eating all within reach and poisoning the land. Walter realised that all this chaos was because of the fish that he had found, the fish that he threw down the well, the fish that had now grown into a monster. Walter's resolve grew and he decided that since the current state of Thornshire was because of his actions that he would kill the beast and restore the land.

Then a purple streak shot out from the monster and took the head off Walter's horse. Walter fell as the headless steed stumbled to a halt, the monster was upon him. He raised his sword, only to have it taken away along with his right hand as the purple blur flicked back and impaled the horse's spasming carcass. Clutching his wounded arm Walter ran, looking back only once to see the remains of the horse lifted high into the air and thrown into a waiting mass of teeth hanging loosely below a myriad of smouldering eyes. Walter soon faltered however, a knee injury suffered at the hand of Capt. Vain limited his stamina and he was forced to scramble on all fours towards a pyre of burnt bodies; leftovers from the excessive witch hunts that had became commonplace before the serpents rising. From behind Walter felt a rush of warm air and was knocked flat by a sound so horrible he wished he had never heard it. His eyes began to sting and Walter had to crawl blindly forwards, groping about with his remaining hand to find his way.

He fell into a ditch and the terrible noise died down, only to be replaced with other, equally disturbing noises. As Walter cleared his eyes and tried his best to stop his bleeding arm sounds of cracking and tearing came from all around. The serpent had moved away from the castle and was now feeding off what Walter believed to be the charred product of the witch hunts. As his vision returned and he was able to gauge his surroundings more accurately Walter saw that he had fallen into an a roughly six foot deep rectangular pit. Tearing some material from his sleeve Walter was able to make a makeshift tourniquet and stop the bleeding. In time the odd splintering noises became more distant and Walter's courage grew, he poked his head out of the hole to see if the serpent was moving away.

The serpent was still there, and a lot closer than Walter had hoped but for now it seemed to be facing away from his current location. Freshly dug holes pitted the surrounding field and as Walter climbed out of his hiding place he saw levelled headstones obscured by the long uncut grass. He had ran into a graveyard and now the beast was consuming the carrion contents of the once sacred earth. Even the dead were not spared in Thornshire.

Now was Walter's chance, if the beast was away from the tower he could save the Baron's daughter. Provided that she was still alive. And provided that he get to the castle before the serpent returned. And so long as he climb to the top of the tallest tower in time. And he would have to get back out before the monster returned as well. And then there was the whole getting out of sight so when the creature does come back it doesn't see them, chase them down and then eat them. And all this would be pretty pointless if it turned out that Baron's daughter was already dead. Which she most likely was. Yeah, screw that. Walter took this chance to escape while the silver abomination was distracted.

It was night when Walter made his way back to alehouse and stumbled lethargically in. There were a good few patrons in the place now, the idea of someone slaying the silver serpent had put the people of Thornshire in high spirits and seeing their hero return a cheer went up. When Walter told of his battle with the beast, the loss of his hand, and of the purple blur of death the patrons at the bar were captivated by the tale of man against monster. When he explained about the blinding noise and the beast's charnel feast and let them know in a round about way that the monster still lived and he didn't actually kill it the townspeople didn't seem too upset. The fact that anyone could possibly get close enough to the serpent for it to eat their hand and then get far enough away that it didn't eat the rest of them was a vast improvement over everyone that got that close beforehand. Drink was drank, merriment was made and many toasts were made to Walter's good health.

The following noon when he awoke Walter set about thinking of a way to defeat the silver serpent. Walter went to the Baron, who was living in the old Priest's house. The Priest didn't mind the Baron and his servants staying since the monster had eaten him about a week ago. Walter told the Baron of a plan to kill the monster that he thought up the previous night, but he would require some money to buy certain items. The Baron agreed, and told Walter to just take whatever he needed from around the town and he'd sort the money and whatnot out afterwards.

The creature's tongue had torn through the armour he had been given as if it wasn't even there, so Walter went to the local Blacksmith and requested a suit of armour made of the strongest steel that could also defend itself if the beast lashed out again. He bought the largest cart he could find in the town and asked the Carpenter to re-fit the back to make it even larger. He went to the Candlestick Maker and demanded all of the lantern oil and the longest wick that the store had. At the stables, Walter took the four cheapest horses he could get. Finally we went to the dock storehouses and gathered all the black powder he could find.

Three days later the Blacksmith finally finished the armour; it was made from the strongest steel, covered in vicious spikes and barbs so sharp that anything that tried to grab the wearer would be sliced to ribbons at the slightest touch and the right arm ended in a curved hook that would replace Walter's missing hand. The cart was load up with all the black powder and oil, drawn by the four horses and the largest wick the Candle Maker had was sitting ready by the driver's seat. Walter rode out to face the beast a second time.

There was an ending, but I forget it.

Anyway, the moral of the story is always put wild animals back where you found them.
Last edited by vden on Wed Apr 04, 2007 5:34 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby Wolfsbane on Wed Apr 04, 2007 1:31 pm

Quite sad, really.
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Postby vden on Wed Apr 04, 2007 1:36 pm

The story wasn't *that* bad :(
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Postby Yusuf69 on Wed Apr 04, 2007 1:38 pm

bane should be appointed to book summarizator, saying that in my american lit class goes over better than trying to explain the deeper meanings of the stories.
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Postby .oni. on Wed Apr 04, 2007 1:47 pm

Summarizator? You mean summarizer?
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Postby Yusuf69 on Wed Apr 04, 2007 1:48 pm

i like odd words, u go away
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Re: This is going up on my DA when I get round to finishing

Postby gurshu12 on Wed Apr 04, 2007 1:52 pm

vden wrote:Image


Meh. I'll read all that when I get home.
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And here, we'll hate you for nothing.
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Postby Shocke on Wed Apr 04, 2007 2:08 pm

Amphibious fish? Pirates? Skinless goat? Big hydra? Oblivion? Corn? Snackrifices?
Yep, snackrifices is where I stopped. Odd, though.
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Postby vden on Wed Apr 04, 2007 2:12 pm

It's my first attempt at writting a children's story. Kids love stuff like that.
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Postby .oni. on Wed Apr 04, 2007 2:15 pm

You wrote it? Wait kids like stuff like, skinless goats and Huge-Ass Hydra's? .... I'll read it when i get home, school's over in 10 min.
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Postby vden on Wed Apr 04, 2007 2:17 pm

I couldn't sleep, I write when I can't sleep.

Helps me stay awake.
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Postby Yusuf69 on Wed Apr 04, 2007 2:20 pm

vden wrote:I couldn't sleep, I write when I can't sleep.

Helps me stay awake.


good man, they can only take your souls if you sleep
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Postby .oni. on Wed Apr 04, 2007 2:20 pm

I write at school, during math and social. ^^;
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Postby Shocke on Wed Apr 04, 2007 5:12 pm

How long are you people at school?
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Postby .oni. on Wed Apr 04, 2007 7:25 pm

I'm not sure what you mean, I go to school from 8:45 - 3:15 and have 3 years left of school. (Gr. 9) 4 classes a day.

Answer your question?
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Postby Wolfsbane on Wed Apr 04, 2007 11:26 pm

vden wrote:The story wasn't *that* bad :(


Haha, no, I was replying to Becca, I didn't read your story yet. I will eventually. You just ninja'd me is all.

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Postby Anonymous#1 on Thu Apr 05, 2007 12:42 am

Nice story, vden, but:

The Priest didn't mind the Baron and his servants staying since the monster had eaten him about a week ago.


wassiz mean?

Oh, and you have to tell us the ending. Seriously, totally anticlimatic, man.
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Postby Durgrumm on Thu Apr 05, 2007 3:27 am

Wolfsbane wrote:
Shocke wrote:My pastor might've got that out of the Bible though, and you don't want to mock the Bible


Lawl. Somebody tell him, I'm laughing too hard.


Does he know about Raptor Jesus? I know I'm late on this thread but I didn't read it all the way through.

BTW Nice story Vden.
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Postby vden on Thu Apr 05, 2007 9:24 am

Anonymous#1 wrote:Nice story, vden, but:

The Priest didn't mind the Baron and his servants staying since the monster had eaten him about a week ago.


wassiz mean?

Oh, and you have to tell us the ending. Seriously, totally anticlimatic, man.


The Baron's castle was taken over by the monster so the Baron and what was left of his servents moved in to the Priest's house. The Priest didn't mind because he was one of the people eaten by the monster. Looking over it now I can see how it can be read as the Baron being eaten. I'll fix that in the final version.

The ending's pretty predicable and anticlimatic anyway, but here it is:

~The Razor Tongued Death Serpent of South Thornshire II~


Three days later the Blacksmith finally finished the armour; it was made from the strongest steel, covered in vicious spikes and barbs so sharp that anything that tried to grab the wearer would be sliced to ribbons at the slightest touch and the right arm ended in a curved hook that would replace Walter's missing hand. The cart was loaded up with all the black powder and oil, drawn by the four horses and the largest wick the Candle Maker had was sitting ready by the driver's seat. Walter rode out to face the beast a second time, dragging behind him his volatile load.

Through the thick hanging mist the maddening shape of the colossal wreck that was once the Baron
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Postby .oni. on Thu Apr 05, 2007 11:25 am

Damn it i haven't even read the first part.
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Postby vden on Thu Apr 05, 2007 12:19 pm

And now it's over and you missed it.
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