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Since prompt threads are apparently coming back in fashion, I thought I'd attempt my own.

Actually taking the time to come up with these would of course be more effort than any of you are worth, but we happen to have a deranged killbot in the Villain's Lair, and as luck would have it, one of its functions is generating story titles!

Please take any or as many of these as you like for inspiration and do whatever you want with it:



My Basic Father; Nations of Revenge; The Servant of You; Derek's Exile; Pan Pipes of Christmas; Defiant Lynch; Immortal Sisters; My White Fear; Love Library; Syphoning the Valor

The Rainbow Marsh; Lore's Masochist; The Gold Column; Keep the Eclipse; Free the Sun; The Phoenix Mystery; Vanishing Years; Skeletal; December in Kensington; My Big Arelina

Quartz and Tar; Pistol Gwen; Duncan and Lila; Cruelty and Despair; The Cats that Cut their Gloves; The Kims; September; Millstone; The Sea of Danger; Lanterns

Walk to Rome; A Thousand Lightyears; All about You Was Immaculate; Ochre; Irrational Dragon Privacy Family; Winter Boughs; Natural Sanctuary; The Brookses; Drake Carols; You Do Let Me Walk

You Calm Her Pussy; Cuddle of Mana; Marine Road; Sea of Destinies; Aid in Cairo; I Say Farewell; Witness of the Caterpillar Villains; The Raging Bats of London; First Heat; Frozen Shit



(They're all pretty dumb so I wouldn't recommend spending more than twenty minutes on this.)

Nations of Revenge


You weren't King for all that long. Your father was assassinated only a week ago, and his council was still preparing you for what you needed to know. You were only seventeen, you hadn't been preparing for your eventual right to the throne seeing as your father was still fairly young but here you were.

Right after the assassination, the Kingdom of Drahaer had declared war and were already pushing their levies into the distant farmlands on the edges of your kingdoms. Luckily your fathers marshal was a veteran when it came to warfare and was able to handle the issues that came from this attack.

Though you felt sluggish and weak as you could already sense that you were being judged by your fathers council and were probably already deemed as a weak lad.

You went to your sister Lydia for constant advice on what to do since she was your senior by four years. If it weren't for you being declared heir the crown should have went to her, she seemed much more capable of leading a kingdom then you ever could.

"Worry not brother, Father had great reason to leave you the crown, all you need is guidance from the council and you'll be able to run this kingdom soon enough. Trust in your advisers and me to help you through these months first though, remember that we'll be here if you ever need our help."

Help is what you really did need, already allied kingdoms already wanted to meet you and discuss on how to handle this new war that was getting bigger by the day as more kingdoms were called on by their allies for the march to war.

Sitting in your throne room you continued to get constant council with domestic and local subjects asking questions that ranged from political to domestic affairs.

What you weren't expecting though was a girl, wearing the coat of arms from the Kingdom of Vager to ask for your attention.

Her stature was that of confidence but her eyes showed hesitance and worried feelings that she couldn't seem to hide.




I got bored here, time to go back to my story for the contest

Why do you hate apostrophes?

Why are you posting at all, GET BACK TO WORK.

(Thanks, and this would be a good start to a storygame.)

Defiant Lynch

Ha! Those fools know nothing of the human psyche, Cowbell thought as he gazed at the appallingly bright screen before him. Of course I'm acting like a retarded faggot! How else am I supposed to figure out if rage in an individual is affected by the levels of faggotry in the air? And now for the next part of my plan...

A slightly evil laugh filled the stale air of his filthy room before he began to type in earnest. In just a few moments he'd drafted a short paragraph or two about dreams; that was the easy part. The next, slightly more difficult part came next, but even that fell before the the mighty mind of the great MoreCowbell! A few more moments passed before the opening post was ready to be made. It went a little like this:

"MoreCowbell: lol i had a dream about my mommy last night. you guyz shud talk about ur dreamz 2. also I'm a brilliant white knight and can protect all of you pretty little newbs from the overbearing handz of the ugly adminz." 

Pure brilliance! Not even the great endMaster would dare oppose him now! MoreCowbell rocked back and forth in his computer chair whilst eagerly awaiting the first reply in his utterly brilliant thread. Several minutes passed before such a reply came, but when it did, it came from the reaper himself.

"endMaster: Ha, you're a faggot."

Needless to say, Cowbell was simply astounded. Surely endMaster realized what he'd just done, right? Did he really dare insult the great Cowbell again? He almost gave into temptation of immediately responding with the best comeback ever, 'no u,' but he stopped himself just in time. It was too early in his social experiment to stop now. I'll just wait for another re-, before Cowbell could even finish his thought the next reply came.

"Mayana: I think you meant a retarded faggot End." 

endMaster responded almost immediately. 

"endMaster: No Medusa. Calling him retarded would've been complimenting him too much. he's clearly much dumber than a retard lol."

Then Cowbell could take it no longer. His hands and fingers moved with blinding speed across his keyboard until a defiant response to make even the gods fear was posted. 

"MoreCowbell: U fools! im clearly just being assertive!"

Ha, Cowbell thought, let them try and respond to that. Not too long after Cowbell's brilliant reply, someone new to the thread posted. 

"EbonVasilis: If you were really assertive, then you'd tag endMaster three times."

Did this...fool really think he could challenge Cowbell's top notch assertiveness? If he did he was dead wrong. Cowbell would show this Valleysis person the power of a psyche major!

"MoreCowbell: @endMaster @endMaster @endMaster"

Another laugh filled Cowbell's room. This would show them. This would show them all, yet no one replied to that post. Finally, after several hours passed, Cowbell deigned to post again, but when he tried to, it would automatically log him out. To him this was a simple glitch in the site, for they wouldn't dare ban him. 

To everyone else, however, the trolling of MoreCowbell had come to an end.

What can I say, Ebon? You are right.

Months......months had passed.  How many?  Seven...eight?  Ah yes, eight months had passed.  

Eight months had passed since you volunteered to go on this suicide trip, up to the freezing tundra that was the land of Ridiculus.  

They needed an archeologist they said, they needed you as you were the best they said.  We'll find it sure enough they said. 

Even when you found the frozen tomb of the chamber of the last King of Ridiculus.  They said it won't be too much longer now.

Even when some flame trap roasted the captain, the only other person with a head on his shoulders.  They said you all had to keep going in his memory.  Now who would you discuss the vast history of the world with?  

Even when the love of your life, Corgilina, contracted some flesh eating parasite while opening one of the tombs.  As you watched her die in your arms.  They said you all had to keep going to honor her sacrifice.  Now who would keep your warm in those cold and lonely nights?

Even now as you sit, hammering away the ice in the King's Tomb.  So close to the goal, we're ever so close they said. 

"Shut up!" You turn and scream at the corpse behind you.

The empty accusing eyes staring at you, next to the campfire that had been out for days.  The scattered bones of the team lay around.  They said no, this is wrong.  So you had them all, the only way to survive.  Now who would share in discovering the revelations of this lost tomb?

What were you supposed to do? Starve to death?  How could you die when you had to continue your love's work?  

Hammering today, with the last of your strength, you finally find what you had been searching for.  The throne of the King, the place where a great man sat to delegate the divine orders of the gods themselves.  

Chipping the ice away, you find a strange hole in the throne.  Impossible, how could it have been damaged after being preserved for thousands of years.  Ah, maybe a secret treasure hidden in the seat of the tomb.  How clever this king was, no one would think to look there.

Breaking ice, you finally get the treasure out.  Albeit in a sizable chunk of ice, here now the great remnants of the king's treasure sits before.  

Within the ice you see it.

A nice, huge lump of....magic coal? Ancient ore?  

What was it you had uncovered?  Peering closely your eyes digest what is before you. 

You laugh.....and you laugh....and you laugh....

The King's Throne indeed! Somewhere past the huge walls of ice before lays where the king gave his mighty doctrine.  Here everyone you knew died to uncover the King's Latrine!  

And here in your hands....a mighty chunk of....

Frozen Shit!

 

The Servant of You

_     _     _     _

Zag sighed, his booted feet clanking against the black stone he had spent hours polishing. The gloomy interior of Count Fenrir's Castle now matched his internal state: bleak. Zag picked off the dark badge of Fenrir from himself, the same badge he first considered a curse when he originally came to the Count as a joke. It simply festered, casting a cursed shadow on his glove. Zag allowed the badge to re-stick itself to his armor.

"It's been so long since Boss was banished from Cystia," Zag eyed his reflection in a window overlooking the city. Fenrir's estate was off in the Cystian countryside, far away from any busybodies or peeping toms. Not many people had reason to come this far out, barring the citizens who were fond of the quiet and spacious rural area. But, the castle was constantly overcast, and if one was lucky, it might get stormy. Zag peered out at the bustling city, and frowned. Not even his friends could understand his pain. Fenrir wasn't just his employer, but Zag had come to know the monstrous wolf of darkness as his friend (even if he wasn't treated like one).

A soft hissing sounded off behind the young armored hero. Turning and drawing his sword, Zag drew his shortsword and gasped at the sight of the skittering creature before him. Covered in red and shining chitin, with powerful pincers at its head, and glistening black compound eyes. Zag had fought many of these ginormous pests before, these giant centipedes.

Now, even the layman knew a giant centipedes when he saw one, knowing that just a single bite from its pincers would spell nigh certain death due to the beasts potent poison. Zag wasted no time as the burly bug almost slithered toward him, each and every leg moving seamlessly and swiftly. He leaped over the insect's head right as it snapped, just nicking his armored knee. Allowing time for a short flourish with his sword, Zag drove his blade into one of the segments on the centipede's body severing the bug into two.

The stench of the centipede's bodily fluids hit our hero, making his eyes water. "Holy Akvon, cleanse me!" Zag cursed, as he could never get over the rancid and sharp scent of the monster's innards. Before Zag could even pick himself up, he found himself wrapped in the grip of another centipede. "How could this have happened? There were no signs of an infestation!" Zag only watched in terror as nearly every crevice held a centipede larva. Zag simply stared out at the grand corridor, as more of the overgrown pests showed themselves.

The centipede continued to grip Zag, nipping at his body to no avail due to his superior platemail. "My grief has blinded me. My lack of perception has led to the destruction of my master's home." Using his sword, Zag ripped through the centipede's body, dropping to the floor and running through the infested castle. Now, the bugs bred and defecated on the polished stone, almost as if to laugh at the young hero. All that work for nothing, Zag, They sneered. Your master would be proud!

His anger surged, overflowing; the blade in his hand acted like a nozzle on a wild fire-hose. Zag sliced his way until he reached the massive front doors. The stench of the slain beasts made him tear up, or that was what he told himself.

Walking out of the dark castle, Zag barred the doors and casted a divine seal, glowing with Akvon's blue light. Unclean.

The black badge of Fenrir fell off of Zag's armor as he walked into the city.

What the hell, people have been posting in here? I guess I have to read words later, ugh.

Sadly. :)