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All was quiet in th Lair. Various villains milled about the dimly lit interior of the gloomy castle. Some read while others napped, and a pleasant atmosphere quickly developed. A few idle smiles even manage to break across a few of the members faces. All in all, it was a good morning. 

"My Lord! Lord Ebon!" a voice shouts across the commons of the castle. Its owner, a young girl dressed in squire's attire, skips across the commons to Lord Ebon. He sits on one of the many lavish couches sharpening a gleaming silver sword. He puts this away, however, as his squire approaches. 

"Yes Wibbons?" he asks her.

"Wilt thou, perchance, deign to peruse through m-" Wibbons starts to speak, but is quickly interrupted.

"Stop talking like that!" Lady Mizal shouts from across the room. 

Wibbons covers her mouth with a hand, takes a deep breath, then starts again. "Lord Ebon. I" she starts off slowly, as if she has trouble speaking English, "spent all day writing the day before today," 

"Yesterday?" Ebon prompts.

"Yes," Wibbons nods, "yesterday, and I managed to transcribe a full four tomes!" 

Ebon, who is too busy looking at the monstrosity atop Wibbons head, a purple hat with a large purple feather, doesn't respond. 

"In one day?" Lady Mizal asks curiously as she walks over to the pair. 

Wibbons nods vigorously. 

Lady Mizal, who, whenever writing is talked about, becomes less bitter, and quickly engages Wibbons in conversation. "I've done six tomes in one day," she proclaims loudly enough for everyone in the commons to hear. 

"I've done seven," Ebon answers idly. His focus isn't on the conversation so much as it is on Wibbons' atrocious choice of attire.

"Wow Lord Ebon. That's a lot of writing..." Wibbons begins before being interrupted.

"I've done sixteen before." A new voice adds to the conversation. The trio turns in time to see a maiden make her way, somewhat shyly, over to them. "But it was for a scholarly essay, so I don't know if that counts..." her voice trails off leaving the trio in subdued awe. 

Before anyone can speak however, the door to the commons is opened, and a Steve stumbles in while yawning. As soon as he enters, Ebon greets him.

"What the FUCK are you wearing?" Steve shouts at the trio and stalks over to them. Or at least tries to. Halfway there he trips and falls to the stone floor. Apparently he wasn't quite over the drunken stupor he, undoubtedly, threw himself into the night before. 

And just like that, the spell of pleasantry and normal conversation dissipated. 

Ebon, however, takes this as an opportunity. He leaps up from his seat on the couch, "Yes! That's exactly what I was thinking Steve. What in God's name are you wearing Wibbons?"

Wibbons takes a surprised step back. "It's a hat." 

"But a very loud, non-fashionable hat. You'd have to be a ten to pull that off. Am I right Steve?" 

Steve, who just managed to lift himself off of the stone floor, looks at Ebon confused. "Guys who worry about fashion are faggots, and that's beside the point anyhow. I was talking about that." 

Steve points past Wibbons, Mizal, and Ebon to the shy girl who just joined them. "What is Ford's bitch doing in my castle?" 

The girl frowns slightly. "My name is Leora. You know that Steve," she responds carefully. "And I'm not Ford's bitch."

"Phffh. Then how else are you supposed to explain why you're still chasing after him after you cheated on-" 

"I didn't cheat, dammit, I didn't even tal-"

"Not based on what Ford told me..."

The two of them quickly engage in argument that the rest don't really care to follow. Well, except Bucky, who sits on the other side of the room eating seasoned and popped kernels of corn as he laughs each time Leora makes a valid point, and boos each time Steve makes a good one. 

With the nice mood gone, bitterness once again makes its home in Mizal. "Do we even need anymore proof? Steve is friends with Ford. That should be enough to banish him from here once and for all," she comments.

No one responds, and instead everyone returns to what they were doing before Steve entered the room. Ebon returns to sharpening his sword. Wibbons leaves the room. Presumably to go write. With the atmosphere ruined, however, Mizal can no longer return to the wonderfully delightful review she was writing. Instead she finds herself going more and more annoyed by Steve's incessant need to argue about everything. She says as much to Leora, but is readily ignored. 

As the sounds of raised voices fill the room, everything that was good about the morning disappears, and with it, Mizal's patience. 

"I will be back," she announces, then promptly stalks out of the room. Ancient stone bricks form the hallway that lead to the mage's, Axiom's, room. When she enters the dimly lit room she treads carefully, so as to not wake Axiom, who still lays asleep. Mizal searches around for several minutes before finding what she came for, and with it in her hand, a sinister smile comes across her face.

Meanwhile, back in the commons, Steve's and Leora's argument has escalated significantly. Their raised voices has managed to draw all of the attention in the room to them. Everyone watches in fascination, as the once presumed shy girl, Leora, presents fact after fact against Steve, who fumbles to find any worthwhile response. 

With no other degenerates to back him up, Steve slowly starts to lose ground in the argument until he is forced to the cusp of having to give his side up. It is then that Lady Mizal stalks back into the room. 

A dark, unearthly glow surrounds her bodice, and her eyes glow an unholy black color. Those eyes immediately hone in on Steve. Seeing this, Steve's eyes widen and he immediately darts across the room to escape her wrath. 

A bolt of darkness follows him, but Steve manages to duck just before it hits him. Bolt after bolt are sent flying in Steve's direction, but he somehow manages to keep evading them. Well, until he is backed into wall that is. 

Steve searches frantically for an escape route, and luckily for him, he sees a potted plant just past where Ebon sits. Unluckily for him, it is Ebon who he runs past, and he must fail to notice this, for he sprints a foot too close to Ebon, and is promptly tripped. A mischievous grin comes across Ebon's face as he sees the degenerate stumble and crash into the hard stone floor. 

"Fuck you Ebon! I swear I'll kill you, and your bitch, then fuck her cor-" Before Steve can get back up, or finish his sentence, one of those ghastly shadowy bolts slams into his chest and his body falls limp to the floor. 

Silence pervades the room, until Mayana, who'd been burning tomes of Ebon's writing in the back of the room, speaks up. 

"What happened? Someone tell me what happened!" The blind girl stumbles across the stone floor to where she assumes the middle of the room is. Unfortunately, she ends up walking right into a chair and is sent tumbling to the floor. 

"We did it May!" Mizal shouts as she helps the blind girl off of the floor. 

"You mean-" May starts, but is quickly interrupted by an excited Mizal. 

"Yes! I finally did it! I banished Steve!" In a fit of elation, Mizal forgets one of her cardinal rules, and hugs May. 

May, who seems to be just as excited as Mizal, hugs her back. "I told you Ax's spell book would come in handy!" The pair of them celebrate their success, so excited in fact that they almost fail to notice Steve's spirit rising from his body. 

Steve the ghost immediately starts laughing before thrusting his pelvis out victoriously. "I win bitch!" he says to her. Or at least tries to say. For some reason unknown to the rest of them, his ghost can move, and even hear everyone speaking, but no sound comes from him. No one can hear his voice, but that doesn't stop him from carrying on conversations through lip-reading. 

"Why isn't he gone May!" Mizal immediately turns on her ally. "I thought you gave me a spell of banishing! I don't care if he's dead or alive. I just don't want him in my castle. You gave me the wrong spell!"

"No I didn't." Mayana shouts back. "You're just reading it wrong. Give the book here." Mayana then proceeds to yank the book from Mizal's hands, opens it up to a random page, then points at a random spot on the page. "Here, try this spell."

No one seems to care or mind that a blind girl is showing Mizal how to read, and Mizal doesn't even question it as she reads the spell aloud and casts it at Steve the Ghost. Another bolt of shadowy magic is sent towards Steve, but it passes right through him and hits Bucky instead. Bucky's spirit rises from his body, and joins Steve among the dead. 

"It didn't work!" Mizal howls in frustration. 

Mayana, ever the friend, urges her, "Just try it again. I'm sure it will work this time."

Mizal, heedless of the consequences, continues to fire random bolts of magic every which way until everyone there, including Mayana, lays dead with their spirits milling about the room. Frustrated that the spells aren't working, Mizal continues, but this time doesn't filter what she casts. Sometimes fire spews from her fingertips while other times gusts of wind throw the corpses around the room.

One particularly nasty spell blows a hole through the side of the castle wall. Sunlight leaks through the hole and shines across the room. The spirits seem to blend in with the sunlight, and Mizal, mistakenly, assumes that the last spell she cast made the spirits disappear. Thus, she continues to cast that nasty spell until the walls of the castle lay in pieces around her. 

Despite the loss of the castle, she can no longer see Steve, and that was what mattered. With a satisfied sigh. Mizal plops herself on the ground beside the ruins of the castle. For a moment she starts to feel guilty, but she dismisses that feeling with a chortle of laughter. What did all of these people think was going to happen by putting all of the most villainous people in one area? Play cards, or perhaps write stories together? Mizal laughs aloud at the notion. No, the only thing that could possibly happen is the devolving of civility until something like this happened. 

"What the hell is going on here?"

Mizal turns to the direction the voice is coming from to see a bruised, and slightly on fire, Axiom stalking towards her. "Did you seriously just destroy my castle? I spent years building this place. Years! And you go and fucking destroy it?" 

Axiom takes her spell book back from Mizal, and immediately sets to clearing the rubble. She casts spells expertly until every one of the dead bodies lay outside the burning, broken ruins of her castle. She then starts casting beams of silvery light at each of the bodies, and one after another, each of the bodies rise up from the ground. 

"What are you doing!" Mizal shrieks as each of the causalities are resurrected from the dead, including Steve. 

"This is your punishment for destroying my castle. Next time you decide to kill everyone, make sure not wake me up from my sleep." Axiom pushes Mizal's hands as the grasp for the spell book once more. "Now I have to find a new home..." Axiom adds idly.

Mizal eventually sits back on the ground and pounds the ground in agony. Now she'd have to start all over in killing Steve. 

The rest of the Villains and their associates walk around the ruined castle wondering where, in all of Cystia, they would find their new home...

Well here's my attempt at regaling certain, uh, recent events. Feel free to comment, criticize, or otherwise participate in this thread. 

I have never 'chortled' nor 'howled in frustration' in my life but this had its moments, better than the really half-assed one Steve did awhile back anyway. I'm not sure if I like how my character's motivations were handled; the murder was entirely premeditated and planned out days in advance for one, which makes it all the more incredible it went off the rails so badly.

Also I just have the general sense you were trying too hard, effort is anathema with these Kingdom/Council/Whatever stories.

it's okay though, good first effort and it's just nice this series is revived. I'll put up the story I was going to do in a couple of days or weeks or whatever at some point after I do Chris and WIBN and Digit's reviews and you can see how it's supposed to be done.

With all the dumbassery that’s been going on with the Villain Lair lately, sort of glad I’m currently missing most of retardation. 

Feel free to continue to keep me updated though.

ngl I was laughing so hard by the middle of all that I spilled my IQ points all over the keyboard.

I don't know who this weird "Wibbons" character is, but I wrote 4.8k while editing 6.1k words. I also don't wear hats. Get you research right! Mizal was perfect though. :)
Also, I'm not you're farking squire.

But no objection to Wibbons being a girl I see.

Thinking about it, Mayana would've made more sense in the squire role.

Still kind of mentally piecing together what everyone's rolls should be in the DC style reboot we're apparently going to need. There are just so many new people around these days and most of you aren't even evil so that makes it weird.

Here's my version of events. Well, in part.

NHAV: Castle Broke

Morning in the courtyard, and Lady Mizal and a few of the others who had more recently been granted noble titles were performing their usual training regimen in the courtyard, accompanied by the usual boasting. The last year had seen the bringing about of an unprecedented golden age of peace and prosperity for the kingdom of Cystia, and so the god-regents had taken to holding tournaments to keep the fickle population from turning on each other or else turning to their old, idiotic ways in the absence of the wars that had unified and sustained the kingdom for so long.

Most notable among those present were Lord Ebon, a wandering paladin who had first become something of a local hero after infiltrating and purging a den of trolls and the degenerate weebkin who served them, before going on to prove himself in more civilized battles, taking the trophy in a number of tournaments. Wibbons was there as well, a noble once exiled who had journeyed to far lands and returned as an Evangelion cleric. And also grown a little bit of a beard which finally confirmed his as male. Both Ebon and Wibbons had lately come from adventuring together in the Realm of Misery (pronounced Missouri) and were in Cystia on a quest to root out the evil that plagued the kingdom. Why they were hanging out with the Council was anyone’s guess. Also present was the Lady Leora, a noble visiting from the barbarian lands who had briefly taken refuge in the Council castle during a period of unrest and temporary exile from her home. She had blue hair from probable faerie blood and bizarrely, was always nice to people, possibly because of an undiagnosed brain condition.

It was unaccountably early hour that Sir Steve the Grand Inquisitor wandered in--or rather staggered in--clutching a flask. An audible sigh of annoyance rippled through the others.

“Hey cunts, who is this faggot?” Steve demanded, swaying on his feet and pointing a couple of feet to the left of Ebon. Lord Ebon, in keeping with his reputation and newly granted title as royal spymaster, (and also because he was just a bit odd) often wore silly hats and disguises about the castle, and today he had on a denim vest and hair and muscle extensions, making him appear as 80s dreamboat Billy Hufsey.

“I don’t find this man attractive at all, get him out of my face!” Steve demanded. “What’s with the muscles, does he work out? Hah! He must be boring and unintelligent and I hate him already!”

“That’s Ebon,” Leora informed him.

“See what I mean? I told you I hate him! Fuck you Ebon, why are you always trying to start fights with me?”

With sighs of disgust, everyone tried to return to what they’d been doing. There was nothing they could do but put up with him, after all.

Although what only a few in the castle knew was that Lady Mizal possessed the key to a great, almost god-like power, and for days she had been determined to make use of it at the first opportunity. A spellbook she had convinced Axiom to let her use during of the brief periods the wizard had deigned to descend from her lofty tower contained enchantments of great destruction, among them ones able to slay their target instantly. There was even a spell that applied a mark of banishment and turned the castle’s defenses on the target so that they could never again enter the walls. In this land of the brain-dead, semi-dead, undead, and demonic entities, that had potential to be the most useful of the lot.

The catch was that the book itself was enchanted, linked into the automatic magical defense system Axiom had installed and only able to be opened by one it recognized as the castle’s master. But by consultation with Mayana the Medusan--a creature the Council kept around to terrify intruders with her hideous eyeless visage and also just because they liked having a convenient child to be pointlessly cruel to--Mizal had figured out the enchantment to utter to make the book remember that she was the one who had originally purchased the deed to this place. Unfortunately the spell she most wanted to use, the mark of banishment, also had a restriction; the castle had to be in great danger, OR, the spell had to be timed in a way that made it funny.

By this time everyone had returned to what they’d been doing, and Steve had noticed Lady Leora and moved to greet her. The usual way Grand Inquisitor Steve said hello to people new enough her wasn’t bored with them yet was by asking a series of increasingly personal and invasive questions all the while implying he believed they were lying to him. For some reason, individuals sometimes didn’t enjoy this.

But he had just said something specifically about banishment, and that was what had caught Mizal’s keen elven ears from all the way across the courtyard. Instantly she dived for her bag and rummaged for the spellbook and ran over to the two.

“--but why shouldn’t Ford share with me every intimate detail of his personal life, AND of yours?” Steve was saying. “Ford and I, we don’t keep secrets. We go way back. We’re the best of friends. Blood brothers. Bosom buddies. Sometimes, even lovers.”

“What?” Leora shrieked.

“Hey, Steve,” Mizal said, chunking a rock at his head for attention. “What was that you just said about banishment a few minutes ago?”

“Huh? I just don’t get what the big deal is about banishing someone from their home. Like, who cares? It has literally no consequences.”

“You don’t say...” Mizal murmured with a sly grin as she reached into the bag and grasped the book, whispering the enchantment.

Nothing happened.

She swore under her breath and stepped aside a moment to search out the careful instructions she’d written out on unlocking the book, while Steve and Leora went back to arguing.

Five minutes later. “Steve, can you share again your opinions on banishment?”

“It doesn’t matter? Anyone with a castle can banish their subjects anytime they feel like it. It’s not a slight or mean at all.”

Mizal grinned and plunged her hand into her bag again. “That’s...shit. Give me a sec.”

Yanking a magic mirror out of her purse she whispered into it urgently. “Axiom! Axiom! Are you there?”

The fog in the mirror cleared and she realized she’d caught her friend at a bad moment. It seems the wizard had purchased the services of a whore, who was now lying in her bed bitterly complaining about how hard it was for a gold star lesbian to be taken seriously in the business, while Axiom stood by and meekly asked if she felt like doing any sex for pay today. She didn’t seem to notice the summons from the mirror.

“Blast it. Well, whatever. I’ll keep trying.”

Ten minutes later.

“Steve, can you again enlighten me on your feelings on banishing the innocent from their homes?” After a moment’s pause she prompted helpfully, “I think...it is bad.” It had been ten minutes after all. It was entirely possible he’d already forgotten what his earlier stated views on the subject were, but she knew he could be depended on to pick the view contrary to everyone else’s in most situations.

He only shrugged and repeated what he’d said before, and looked on in confusion when Mizal started punching something inside her bag and swearing.

“AXIOM!” The elf cupped her hands over her mouth and hollered in the direction of the wizard’s tower. “Check your mirror damn it!”

Fifteen minutes later.

“Ugh, what’s going on? Don’t bother me now, I’m busy,” came a cranky voice from her own. Checking the mirror, she had just enough time to see a dejected Axiom counting out what appeared to be the castle’s entire treasury of 4200 gold coins into her companion’s hands, while the whore glared at her and told her she hadn’t been satisfied.

“Axiom, what the hell? You are into some weird--” Mizal trailed off in annoyance as her wizard friend cut the communication with a wave of her hand.

“Hell. Now what?” Mizal muttered, looking over at Steve in frustration. “Well, still a couple of things I can try...” She chunked another rock. “Hey Steve!”

“Look, I already told you! Only a hyperreactive little bitch would make a big deal over someone getting banned, so...”

“Mizal, are you okay?” Leora asked, apparently concerned about the reddening face and the fact that the elf was screaming into her purse.

“I. Am. Fffffine. Everything. Is. Great.”

Twenty minutes later.

The conversation had moved on. “And THAT’S how I feel about the price of tea in Chinkland!” Steve was saying to a worshipful Sir Malk.

All at once an ominous thundering sound shook the castle, and dark clouds blotted the sky. Eerie greenish rays from some otherworldly source spotlighted Mizal, and her hair floated all about her without the help of the slightest breeze. Her eyes opened, blazing with light, and fixed on Steve. “Fucking FINALLY!”

******
Later
******

“Okay, so let’s talk about what went wrong here yesterday.”

Mizal was seated with a few others at a table, sipping coffee. Nearby, scenes from the battle wavered in the air, writ in colored smoke above a bubbling cauldron surrounded by candles. “Noooooo!” Sir Malk was screaming, kneeling beside Steve’s prone body. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he shook a fist at the sky. “No, gods, nooooo! He’s too beautiful and young and I...I love him! Take that blue haired cunt instead!” he wept, gesturing angrily at Leora.

Mizal waved a hand to break apart the illusion.

“Well, Steve’s murder and banishment technically went off without a hitch, you and Mayana just didn’t account for the fact that he was so evil you’d need to have an exorcism performed to get his ghost escorted off the premises,” said Axiom.

“Should’ve gotten the church involved from the start,” suggested Ebon.

“O sinful commerce! Forsooth! Thou art th' flood's never-dying kindness,” Wibbons commented. Ever since his stay in foreign lands and conversion to the Church of Evangelion, no one ever knew what the hell Wibbons was talking about. “From whence doth weary asylum stain not thy kin's tempest? Lo!”

“...right. Anyway.”

“Well, and there was also the part where you didn’t realize the mark of banishment had worked properly the first time and so you kept casting variations, and then asked a blind girl to show you the spot in the book where the correct spell was.”

“Yes! See, that’s exactly what I mean. We need to go back aways to correctly assign blame here. First of all, who invited Mayana to the castle?”

"O rebellious felicity! Yea! Thou art th' oppressor's unworthy faults."

“Yeah! What he said! ...I think.”

Axiom rubbed at her temples and sighed, a gesture she’d been repeating a lot recently. “I think right now, rather than assigning blame, we need to be focusing on the fact that you killed and put the mark of banishment on all of us by mistake, and then destroyed most of the castle while trying to undo it and disable the defense system.”

“That I did.” Mizal looked around at the strewn rubble, crazily leaning columns and missing ceiling and frowned slightly, taking another sip of her coffee.

“Also, we don’t have any money left to do repairs, because.. .because the treasury was, uh...” Axiom avoided eye contact. “...stolen, during the confusion.”

“What? All 4200 gold coins?” Coins, the treasurer who has never been previously mentioned because he’s never done anything of note exclaimed in horror. “Great job Mizal, you really fucked things up now! Your incompetence is astounding!”

“So ANYWAY, the castle is broken and we’re too broke to fix it. You guys are going to have to go out and make some money, fast.”

“Ugh, seriously? How?”

“Please. You all used to be adventurers. Just do what adventurers do; kill people and take their things. Although...” The wizard paused with a worried expression.

“What’s the matter now?”

“You see, the magic I had to use to bring everyone back to life and fix things after all those incredible fuck ups was of a bit of reality bending nature, and with this kingdom already being a nexus of Chaos and destruction, and the castle itself housing so much pure capital E Evil, there might be...consequences...

Mizal furrowed her brow. None of that sounded good. “What kind of consequences?”

The wizard thumped a heavy, ancient tome down on the table and opened it to a page full of strange illustrations of brightly clad wizards and warriors, all wearing capes. ‘Crisis on Infinite Earths’ it read. Another book was laid down beside it, a leather bound tome bearing the title, ‘Where Were You When the Dragon Broke?’

“Well...I’d explain it, but this story is already over 2000 words. Although, I’m sure you’ll find out for yourselves soon enough.” Axiom slammed the book shut just as abruptly as she’d opened it, and walked away. The others exchanged glances, shrugged, and went back to their coffee.

‘Crisis on Infinite Earths’ it read. // Oh hey, I suggested that.

I'm still waiting for someone to top my telling of Wibbins the Cat Killer.

Goddamn, I'm sad I missed this. Seems like it was a good time.

Yeah I don't think the actual log you saw really did it justice. I could've easily added a lot more to the story too but it was getting too long...I wish I could write on my real stories that easily.

Like I said, it was probably one of those things you just had to be there for. It got to the point I just couldn't stop laughing....just the escalation from trying to figure out how I'd managed to mute Steve without banning him (he was banned, we just didn't realize it because I guess we all assumed it would have removed him from the channel) to Malk messaging me too to inform me I'd muted (actually banned) him to and so apparently everyone. Then at some point in there while I was trying to figure out how to give everyone voice again with Maya, she logged out and couldn't get back in. And at the same time I've got Wibbons PMing me on the site like 'why was I banned again? :'( And that was when I realized I'd murdered everyone.

I did actually manage to remove the bans but no one could get in still because removing that one tiny space set the channel to invite only and needing a password that didn't exist. And like I said, it was a good thing Axiom came along before the next netsplit did because I'm not sure I'd have figured out those modes were set or even existed and if the server cropped itself again we would have all been homeless lol.

LOL This was based on a true story?! And here I was mustering up the courage to join in the story-telling. :")

Well, in some ways, I suppose what I came up with is even more relevant:

[Insert scene] lkiriakos (the itinerant alchemist) saunters in, compliments Wibbon's hat, desperately tries to avoid Steve's gaze, stumbles out a nearby window, and is promptly ignored.

Steve, who was hallucinating something completely unrelated, cries out "F*ing noob!" before requesting the services of an alchemist.

Yes we have a questionable tradition of self insert fanfic of fantasy kingdom shenanigans loosely (or not so loosely) based on forum and IRC/Discord events or drama. Bucky started it off ages ago but it's been awhile. Maybe I should dig up the old threads and index them somewhere. End also has his ANGZT stories.

You could probably do a whole series with your character psychoanalyzing various forum personalities. Or maybe you'd fit in better as a Scarecrow like villain turning everyone's phobias against them, that would be fun too.

It was a beautiful spring day in Cystia. The change in season was appreciated by all throughout the kingdom, for it signified the ending of the long hard times the winter before had brought, and the chance for new beginnings. To symbolize this new start, Sovereign Killa decided to host a tournament. The deadline for signing up for the tournament had just ended, and the race to become stronger and more skilled began. 

One of these contestants, the wandering paladin, Lord Ebon, was on his way to have his sword sharpened by his trusty blacksmith Mayana when he saw a most peculiar and unwelcome sight.

He saw Wibbons, another one of the tournament's contestants and his bunkmate since the old castle burned down, walking out of Mayana's smithy. Wibbons was no longer the young girl he'd been back then (apparently he'd taken a transformation potion to change the way he looked) and was instead a rather tall guy with an unkept beard. Wibbons didn't even notice Ebon as he walked past, and was instead focused on his newly sharpened sword. A pleasant smile sat on his face as he continued on his path.

A suspicious look enters Ebon's eyes, and he hurries into the smithy. "Hey May," he calls out as he steps into the shop. 

"Give me a second," May calls back as she makes her way from the forge into the front, less scorchingly hot part of the smithy. "Oh, is that you Ebon?" she asks as she nears. 

"Yeah. Say, wh-" Ebon is promptly interrupted. 

"Ooh, does this mean you finally brought me your tournament gear to be refined?" she asks hopefully. 

"Well I'm just practicing with my sword for now, so I was going to have you sharpen just that for now. I'll bring the rest of the armor over later..." he trails off as he hands his gleaming silver sword over to her. "Say, why was Wibbons here?" Ebon asks her.

"I was just helping her fix a few notches on his sword," Mayana tells him idly. 

"His tournament armor?" Ebon asks. 

"Yeah I think so." 

Ebon gives her a confused look, but, recalling her blindness, speaks, "Why would you help Wibbons? He's competing against me at the tournament." 

"Why not? He came and asked for my help, and I didn't want to refuse him."

"But you're my blacksmith. I don't want anyone else using your skills. He should go find his own blacksmith." 

"It's fine Ebon. It's only another set of armor, so it's not like I'm going to be overloaded with work or anything." 

Ebon hesitates as he mulls it over. "I suppose I'm fine with it. So long as you won't be overloaded with work. If it does become too much, you should stop helping him. I can't have you dropping from fatigue. Who would help me correct my mistakes then?"

Mayana nods as he speaks. "Sure Ebon, but refining a few more pieces of armor won't kill me. You should have more faith in me." 

"Alright," Ebon turns around to leave, " I'll be back tomorrow to pick the sword." 

"See you then," Mayana calls before immediately going back to the forge. 

Ebon takes one last glance back, and then leaves the building with uncertainty clouding his face. 

The Next Day

"... and surely though shan't forget to oil in between the joints? Wouldst thou also wrap my pantaloons separately to prevent erroneous scars? Thankee." Wibbons tells Mayana as he hands his armor over the smithy counter. "Oh, and I hope thou dost not mind, for I hath brought unto thee my spare armor set as well."

Mayana nods, "Yeah that'll be fine. Just leave that set with this one, and I'll get to it. Eventually." 

"Thankee again May! I owe thou aplenty." Wibbons then proceeds to to leave the smithy.

Well, tries to.

Ebon, having arrived to pick up his sword, catches Wibbons by the arm and stops him from leaving. "Wibbons, what the hell are you doing?" he say this quietly, so May won't hear him.

"What dost thou mean?" Wibbons responds confused. 

"I mean, why are you here? May is my tournament blacksmith. If you want someone to check your armor for the tournament, then go somewhere else."

"This revelation hath not occurred to mine mind ," Wibbons says and shakes his head back and forth. 

"Bull. There's no way you didn't know that. How could your forget she was working for me after Sovereign End's tournament." Ebon raises his eyebrows curiously. "I mean she practically bragged that it was her paladin that won."

When Wibbons doesn't respond, Ebon continues. "Now you know. Take your armor and leave." Ebon then lets go of his arm and continues toward the counter where Mayana stands organizing the copious amounts of gear she has to oil, sharpen, and refine. 

"He-" Ebon starts to greet Mayana, but Wibbons, who apparently stayed still after Ebon pushed past him, interrupts. 

"Regrettably, I shall insist upon Milady improving my tournament gear." 

Ebon doesn't turn around, and instead addresses May. "May, tell Wibbons to screw off. He's piled too much work on you for mine to get done as well." 

Mayana frowns. "It's not that much. I can do it." 

Ebon hesitates before pointing at a different set of armor across the room. "Who's armor is that over there?" 

May, not even having to go check whose it is, responds, "Lady Leora's." 

"Leora too? This is insane May. All of this tournament gear, and all in just a few weeks. You're going to end up overworking yourself." 

"For fuck's sake Ebon. I'm not going to overwork myself. You go practice, I'll handle your equipment," May responds slightly exasperated. 

Ebon starts shaking his head back and forth. The last tournament they participated in together Ebon only had her fix his leather armor and sword, even then it took awhile to get finished. There's no way she's going to be able to take care of three full sets of steel plate armor before it's time for the tournament, Ebon thinks sadly. His favorite blacksmith was going to overwork herself, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. 

"Hear ye Ebon?" Wibbons asks him from across the room. "Milady just told thee to move thyself from her presence. Milady will help me whether thou likest it or not." 

"Oh shut up Wibbons." A plan starts to form in Ebon's head, and he, surprising Wibbons, reaches to a rack on the smithy wall and pulls a dull sword from it. 

He then momentarily lapses into Wibbons speech as he points the sword tip at Wibbons throat. "This affront shall not go unnoticed. Prepare thyself for holy retribution." 

Wibbons pulls his freshly sharpened sword from his sheath, swings it against Ebon's own sword. Ebon, expecting this, deftly performs a maneuver where the tip of his sword is used to hit the hilt of the Wibbons sword. He does this successfully, and Wibbons' sword is sent through the air and into Ebon's left hand grasp. Ebon then raises the dull sword and prepares to strike at Wibbons, but Mayana puts herself between the two. 

Never expecting May to be on the opposite side of his sword, Ebon stands there momentarily astonished, but then he remembers his plan. 

"Fine. If you won't lighten May's workload by leaving then, I will. After all, I have just proven that I don't even need a sharp sword to beat you." Ebon let's the dull sword clatter the floor. "Unlike you, I don't need May to win." The words taste bitter even as he says them and guilt immediately comes over him when he sees May's expression change from confusion to sadness and anger.

"You can't be fuckin' serious Ebon!" May shouts at him. 

"I am." is all he says as he gazes at May's hurt expression. 

The room goes silent, and Ebon takes this as his cue to leave, so he grabs his newly sharpened sword form the smithy counter, leaves Wibbons' sword, then promptly walks out of the smithy with May's hurt expression seared into his memory. 

I actually don't remember the saintly amount of concern for May's workload coming in till after you told WIBN you didn't need any help to win, but it fits well with the paladin role.

Now WIBN should write his own version to continue the theme of the thread. I can only assume you'd be yelling 'EBON!' every time you enter a room but the problem is neither one of you are very good at taking these things and running with them. Where's the comedy here?

5/8, I mean it's a nice diversion but it wouldn't win any contests. Should've had May look it over I guess.

Me being a saint mostly happened in pm's with me and May. 

Oh, and Comedy is the one thing I'd say I have no idea how to write.

Ha, I don't even have a chance of writing a good one of these; nonetheless, I was very worried over Ebon's behavior. I decided to do some research. I poked him with a really long stick to see if he'd say he dropped May out of kindness or out of being a dick, for both had their own evidence. After enough poking, my results indicated he was being kind but did so in a way that gave the appearance of an arrogant dick.
I am happy with those results.

To be fair, I told her as soon as she offered that it was completely understandable if she didn't have the time to look over my story.

"But you're my blacksmith. I don't want anyone else using your skills. He should go find his own blacksmith."
At least you now learned that I'm not *your* blacksmith, but just a blacksmith that also happened to help you. Not to mention that the reason I was able to fix that leather armor just in time was because of how slowly you gave me the pieces. Fuck, you only decided to bring me the boots a day before the deadline! Lady Leora's armor doesn't even need fixing, because she doesn't constantly damage it like you do. All I need to do is make it a little bit more shiny.
This situation is more like a child thinking "Someone else is playing with my toy! No, MINE!" and then, when he can't get it back "Fine! I never liked that toy anyway!" This particular child just happened to be smart enough to also cover it up with "I just don't want that toy to be damaged from overuse".

Since Wibn isn't going to write a reply, I figured I'd give this a shot. I'm running on about half an hour of sleep though, so please forgive the tired writing ^_^

The Story:
 

Lady Leora shifted nervously as she waited outside of the blacksmith’s forge. The young maiden was a relative newcomer to the land of Cystia, and had yet to adjust to the persistent tension that always seemed to loom in the air. It was a beautiful land really, full of intelligent people and strange happenings. The inhabitants were wary of newcomers, so naturally the blue-haired girl had been nervous at first. The fact that her first encounter here had been with the villainous drunkard Steve certainly did not ease her discomfort. She had hardly set foot within Cystia’s borders before he demanded that she dance for him! Yet once she displayed a basic knowledge of Grammarly Magicks, the others had been surprisingly accepting. She had even been offered a place in the infamous Villain’s Lair.

A small amount of time had passed, but Leora was already beginning to feel at home. Though the atmosphere still occasionally caused her some distress, she could not help but feel that this was not the reason for her current anxiety. After all, things had been going quite well. She’d made a few new friends, learned some new spells, and had built up enough tolerance to Steve’s insults that they had begun to amuse her. No, this was not her typical “new girl” apprehension. Lady Leora was preparing for her first tournament.

Every applicant had to design their own armor, something the frail girl had very little experience with. She glanced nervously at the piece of sweat-stained parchment in her hand. These blueprints represented life to her-- a chance to sharpen her skills by fire, or to be cursed with eternal SHAME. Calm down, the maiden told herself. You’ve got luck on your side.

Indeed she had. Even when her designs were still in their early stages, her participation in the contest had caught the attention of the legendary blacksmith Mayana. This wonderful lady also happened to own the forge that Leora now stood outside. It was no secret that Lord Ebon, the victor of the previous contest, had relied heavily on Mayana’s aid. For such a talented smith to approach Lady Leora and offer her services… the newcomer was quite lucky indeed.

A breath of relief escaped Leora’s lungs as Mayana emerged from the smithy. She was smiling. That was a good sign, right?

“Umm… h-how does it look?”

“Great!” May replied, chuckling slightly at her customer’s nervous expression. “Obviously I can’t say much since all you’ve built so far is this one gauntlet, but it seems to be in working order. There were a few minor flaws here and there, but I got those smoothed and polished out for ya.”

“T-thank you!” Leora exclaimed, overwhelmed with gratitude.

May nodded. “Look, I gotta warn you. I’m workin’ on Sir Wibbon’s armor for this tournament, and Sir Ebon is supposed to drop his off any day now. I’d be happy to look over your future work, but I may be swamped for a bit. Those two require… extensive repairs.”

“Of course!” The blue-haired girl nodded furiously. She was amazed that she even had access to the same resources as such prominent competitors. “Thank you so very much! As I’ve said before, I totally understand if you’re too busy to look at my designs. You’re a wonderful person for even offering…”

“It’s alright,” May smiled. “I’ll see you soon!”

Leora practically skipped as she headed away from the forge. Her happy look soon turned to one of concern though, as he spotted Lord Ebon on his way to Mayana’s workplace. The man looked exhausted and sullen.

“Are you alright, Lord Ebon?” He was her competition, but she wished no ill upon him. His arrogant demeanor had frustrated her at first, but she had come to discover that she rather liked the ambitious young paladin. Perhaps Lady Mizal had been right… Leora was a bit naive. Still, he seemed friendly enough.

“I’ve just had to scrap my entire blueprint,” he replied. “Two full weeks of work, and I’ve got nothing to show for it.”

“How horrible!” Leora sympathised with this completely. She’d had to scrap one of her earlier plans in favor of the one she now carried. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something great. You are a champion, after all.”

“Of course,” Ebon resumed his normal, confident stance. He smiled briefly at his opponent before riding off toward the smithy.

Leora returned to celebrating her own accomplishment, but as quickly interrupted again. Loud noises and angry shouts were coming from somewhere nearby. She struggled to identify the source of the noise. Her connection to this realm was shaky at best, and unfortunate side effect of the move from her homeland of Dormus. It left her with an awful sense of direction, and would occasionally force her to black out and miss entire events. It took her a moment, but she realized with horror that the noises were coming from the forge. My friends are in there! The anxious girl rushed to the scene just in time to witness a bloody battle. Ebon, Wibbon, and Mayana were all brandishing weapons at each other. May was the only one to take notice of her arrival.

“Leora!” the backsmith barked, her eyes locked on Ebon in a deadly glare. “It looks like I’ll have more time for you after all. Lord Ebon no longer desires my services.”

“Wait, what?” Leora blinked, thoroughly confused. Her vision blurred as her connection began to slip again. She hated to see everyone fighting like this, but a single thought gnawed at the back of her mind. It was a selfish thought. The young lady struggled to push it from her mind, but as she began to slip from reality, it only became clearer. No… this wasn’t her… the thought formed in the front of her mind as she collapsed and the world went black.

How lucky for me.

Yesssss. You are correct, their misfortune and the time they've spent distracting themselves with this is all to your benefit. Welcome to the Dark side.

Wait...

'May replied, chuckling slightly at her customer’s nervous expression.'

How is she seeing the expression? Never mind, immersion ruined, 1/8.

What do you mean? They were talking to each other... Why wouldn't she be able to see it?

Do... do you not know Mayana's blind?

No, I wasn't aware of that. I remember some reference to it in the previous stories though, so that's definitely my bad. I'd change it to something about a nervous tone, but it's been replied to. Also, am I the only one who can't see the italics or paragraph indentations anymore? I swear they were there last night.

You left that last tag open which was screwing up all following posts and the list of online names, I asked End to fix it and if he's using RTE or whatever it might have stripped out the html when he went to edit it, not quite sure how that works.

Indented paragraphs are fucking annoying just fyi so those are no loss.

I’m still currently on shitty phone internet and every time I was trying to scroll down it kept going back to start so the only way to effectively get rid of the italics was to just “select all” and turn off the italics.

No text was lost.

Ah, I see. I generally use them when writing stories, though I leave them out of casual forum posts. I was more concerned with the italics since they indicate when the character is thinking something.

@Endmaster please close Leora's italics tag.

@Endmaster
Um... all of the coding (except line breaks) in my post, including the italics, seems to have disappeared entirely.

Oh look, there were Council stories and no one bothered to tell me. That's nice. Good job, Ebon and Mizal, I enjoyed them. One was far better than the other and actually made me laugh, but I shall do no ego stroking today.

Ebon told me to write something, and this was the most interesting thing that has happened me as of late.

Chapter XVIII: Patronizing Eunuchs

Steve stepped off the boat onto the pier, taking a deep breath of the shitty Cystian air. Yes, he truly was home. Although the opium dens of home certainly had their appeal, with their drugs, drink, whores, drugs, whores, drugs, drugs... 

Steve flew into a blind panic as he realized what he'd left for what he'd returned to, and desperately turned around and began sprinting down the pier, yanking down his trousers and shitting himself in imitation of a bird to reduce his weight and run faster. Unfortunately for both him and the Cystians, this only led to him stumbling and falling face first into the waters. 

"Fucking void!" Steve swore loudly, swimming to the surface as he watched his ferry depart from the docks. He grabbed a handhold in the pier, and yanked himself back onto it, pulling up his pants.

Steve swore for a few moments, before shaking his head. No bother, he wouldn't let this get him down. He had returned to his glorious kingdom, this was a time for celebration, not mourning just because he'd missed out on some drugs and drink and whores and drugs...

Steve once again attempted to jump onto the ferry in another blind panic, before ending up in the ocean again. After another few cycles of surfacing, climbing onto the pier, panicking and diving into the water again, he finally managed to regain a fraction of composure.

Steve took a brief look around, staring at the Cystians at the dock. They were mostly a mixture of slave-masters attempting to whip immigrating newbs into something that didn't deserve to be horrifically flayed, returning champions from crusades against the cogites, waving blood-stained banners of anatomically correct genitalia, or trolls trying to sneak back in through adding a "2" to the names on their passports. Surprisingly, there was no welcome party. Perhaps there'd been a holy war over whether his absence was a test or the apocalypse, and everyone else had died fighting. Or perhaps they had doubted his return, and he'd find hundreds of limp bodies hanging from every tree in sight, all unable to survive without him. Yes, that must be it.

Steve began walking into the town, his mace slung over his shoulder. It wasn't long before he came across a surviving Ford Drone, with a blue-haired Cogite tranny in tow. What a delight! Steve hadn't had a good battle in a while! This would truly be fun!

"Oh, delightful!" Steve exclaimed happily. "Hello, Ford! Hell, Ford's tranny!"

Steve raised his mace in preparation for the Cogite to start charging at him, its arms and possible genitalia flailing at him in outrage. The Cogite, however looked to Steve with a bemused expression, raising an eyebrow and stepping back, her hands grabbing for something to be used as a weapon. A very reasonable response, admittedly.

"I'm not a tranny," the Cogite said, unashamed.

This was bizarre. The girl was unashamed of her cisgenderness, thus making it clear she was not a Cogite. That left only one option: that Ford had hired a whore. Understandable, admittedly. If Steve had been born a Ford, he would've almost certainly hired a whore to lose his virginity. Well, if Steve had been born a Ford he would've strangled himself with the umbilical cord, but if that had failed he would've bought a whore.

"Oh, my apologies, Ford's whore," Steve smiled, sure that he'd cleared up the situation.

"I'm not a whore!" the whore exclaimed in annoyance. 

"You're spending time with Ford," Steve said in confusion. "Oh, sex worker! You're a sex worker, right? That's the proper term."

This whore was certainly caught up with using the proper terms. Perhaps she had Cogite blood in her after all. 

"I'm not a sex worker! I'm Ford's girlfriend! And I have a name, it's Leora!"

Ford made a disgusting, chittering noise of approval, before vomiting Ford eggs onto the ground in an attempt to spread his Fordness. Steve paused in confusion, barely having time to crush the Ford eggs before they hatched into Chanbots. He quickly attempted to tear Leora's face off, certain he'd reveal another Ford mask underneath, only to find himself pulling at the young whore's face muscles. 

"You're real?! Ford's fucking a real woman?!" Steve said, aghast.

So far, Ford's sexual desires had been contained to himself, the ginger hick who cooked burgers and an Earth Elemental he liked to jack it to. If that changed and Ford's sexual desires expanded, they were all (literally) fucked.

"The Hive shall conquer," Ford cackled, eggs dripping down the corner of his mouth as Steve failed to hold back the desire to vomit.

"You're attracted to him? You're sexually attracted to that!?" Steve asked in horror.

"Well actually, not exactly," Leora confessed, clearly filled with shame over this disgusting revelation. "I'm asexual."

"Oh, I get it!" Steve nodded.

The Mods had a habit of making eunuchs of anyone they disliked. Well, the Undead King had a habit of doing that. Tim, Chris, Taco, the Penguin and many more had already been made asexual Eunuchs at his fucked up whims. This was just clearly another victim, a young, preteen boy who had lost his cock and balls to a sadistic fuck and now had to pretend to be a chick like the vampire from Let Me In.

Author's Note: Did you guys know that? In the film Let Me In with that girl who would grow up to be super hot, where the human boy falls in love with the vampire girl, that vampire was actually a young boy who had been castrated and had his cock and balls cut off, and they just had it be played by a chick and had it be a straight relationship and... oh man, that shit was fucked up. It's just that they made the androgynous castrated vampire boy a chick because the Swedes are fucked up and ruin everything. Ah, nevermind, let's continue.

"Oh, you poor, fucked up thing," Steve nodded, reaching for the boy's breaches to see the Eunuch scar.

"Hey!" Leora said, jumping back from Steve's grasp.

"What?" Steve asked. "I just want to see how the Undead King cut you! I can admire the man's technique, I'm self-assured enough to admit that!"

"No one cut me! Leave me alone!" Leora shrieked, as the Ford Drone cackled in ecstasy while making no moves to defend his eunuch.

"I'm not trying to do...!" Steve began to say.

Suddenly, the ground began to shudder. Suddenly, a trio of large, ten-legged monstrous armored bastards burst forth from the ground. Steve screamed as the pincers attacked, heading straight for his genitals. He barely managed to dodge the first attack, planting his boot in the creature's face and sending it stumbling over. He brought the full force of his face down on the second, shattering it's shell and crushing its brain. Steve narrowly dodged another pincer, as the first monster charged straight for him. He leaped into the air, landing on its head as he brought his mace down hard on the creature's face, killing it with a single blow. The third monster came screeching at him, but with its two comrades dead, it stood no chance. Steve planted his feet, knocking the creature onto his back with a powerful swing and sending it flipping on its back. Now completely undefended, Steve proceeded to bash in its soft underbelly, crushing its organs and mashing it to shit as he killed the fucker. 

"Fuck that itched like a cunt!" Steve said, tearing off a pincer from the monster and hefting it over his shoulder for dinner later.

"What the hell was that?!" Leora said, in a mixture of fear and disgust.

"Oh yeah... sorry, that's my bad," Steve said, scratching his head and crotch. "I was on holidays, and there were a lot of who... it's just that that's going to be a reoccurring problem for a week or two, I need to get a shampo... fuck it, it doesn't concern you fucks."

"Fine! I have to go prepare for the tournament anyway!" Leora complained.

"Tournament? There's a tournament?" Steve asked, before remembering he had taken on the role of Digit's patron in the tournament. 

Steve frowned, realizing he'd become Digit's patron. The man couldn't swing a sword, couldn't write, and unless his constant masturbation to children was some kind of wax on, wax off thing to learn sword techniques, Steve had went to a dog race and backed a cat on this one.

"Fuck!" Steve said. "I might've fucked myself on this. Eunuch! Oh young boy, come back here!"

Steve raced after the Eunuch, whacking her in the back of the legs and sending her tumbling to the ground, before offering her a hand.

"Young boy, Leora, I'm here to offer my assistance!" Steve said. "I'd like to act as your patron in the tournament, after my last apprentice... well, he just kind of kept jacking it to children. Doesn't matter, don't get involved.

"What? I don't want your help! Leave me alone!" Leora said.

Ford attempted to protect his girlfriend, or lay more eggs or whatever, but Steve killed the drone with a single swing of his mace, before focusing on the now terrified girl in front of him.

"Shut up, eunuch, I'm helping you now," Steve said, kicking Leora in the side. "Get up, you lazy fuck! You have work to do!"

"I already have Mayana helping!"

"The blind chick? Fuck her, she's useless!"

"The... what?" Leora asked, clearly confused.

"The..." Steve said, wondering how his apprentice had failed to notice Mayana's constant stumbling, the constant jokes about her blindness, or the gaping holes in her head where her eyes should be, before shrugging. "Shut up! Go start your training, you stupid, stupid bitch!"

"I already started my trai...!"

Steve kicked her again.

"Stop feeling pride, you stupid cunt!" Steve said. 

For the rest of the day, Steve proceeded to kick and yell at the poor Eunuch, badly beating her when it amused him. This gravely damaged her ability to train, but Steve never thought ahead much.

As the sun set in the distance, Steve continued kicking Leora in the side as the young girl passed out from the pain from the beatings. Steve proceeded to give her a few more kicks, before deciding to let her rest.

"Well, I somehow chose to act as patron to another lazy fucker," Steve complained. "This might be my fault. Sleep tight, Leora. The real training shall begin in the morning.

Steve sat down next to his badly bruised and battered victim, lighting his pipe as he leaned back against the wall of the local blacksmith's, where a tantrum was breaking out inside, but he paid it no attention, instead focused on his failure of an apprentice.

"I shouldn't have come back here," Steve sighed. "I shouldn't have left the opium dens, with their drugs, and drink, and whores, and drugs and whores..." 

And once again, Steve found himself desperately sprinting to the pier in hopes of reaching the boat back to the opium dens.

Well, this is very amusing, though entirely inaccurate. ^_^ For one thing, I was happy to accept Steve's support an all of the negative reinforcement that came with it. Perhaps this is Steve's perception of events through his drunken haze?

Fascinating the critique you have is that you were eager to take my help, not that your boyfriend reproduces through puking eggs or you being a preteen boy who had his cock hacked off.

I assumed those were merely a result of Steve's warped perspective. It's much easier to explain away your opinions about people than an actual misconstruction of events.

Leora awoke to the smell of alcohol and body odor. The vile combination made her eyes water, and it took her a moment to clear the tears and sleep from her vision. “Damn these blackouts…” What in the world was this place? Shattered mugs that had presumably contained ale littered the floor, and the walls were plastered with half-naked images of various people covered in maggots. Ale and bug porn? No… it couldn’t be… “Eunuch!” a slurred voice echoed behind her, confirming her fears. “Git over here, I want to yell at you!”

The blue haired girl looked at Steve with disgust. “I’m not… ah, forget it.” She’d given up on this hopeless case long ago. He’d developed a habit of calling her a eunuch, or a whore, or various other names that referred to her genitalia.This had annoyed her at first, mostly because she was uncomfortable with the subject of sex. Yet as time went on, she had come to pity the foul-mouthed drunkard. He was so entrenched in his lecherous ways that he had lost all concept of love and romance. In fact, he seemed entirely convinced that sexual desires and love were identical feelings. This misguided assumption had led him to believe that because she had no particular desire to lay with everything that moved, she was incapable of romantic feeling. Hence the insults.

“What do you want, Steve?” the girl asked, waving her hand in a futile attempt to clear away the stench. What an awful place to wake up. “If you need someone to yell at, I suppose I have the time.” She stood, bracing herself for the lewd comments and possible beatings that were certain to follow.

“I’ve decided to patronize you in the upcoming contest.”

“Okay… I’ve gotten used to you patronizing me by now.”

“No,” he grunted, clearly annoyed. “I’m backing you in the upcoming tournament.”

“You’re… supporting me?” The maiden inquired slowly, disbelief shrouding her features. Was this some sort of joke? She listened carefully for any indication of this as Steve ranted about his previous beneficiary being a masturbating cat. There were no extreme insults in her direction, no sexual references, no pointless aggression… none of the telltale signs of a Steve joke. He was actually serious about this. Still, she wasn’t certain that the uncouth Irishman would be of much use to her in this case.

“I already have Mayana helping me…”

“The blind girl? She’s useless.”

“Blind… girl…” Leora cocked her head to the side, obviously confused.

“You didn’t notice? Ugh, you’re useless too!” Steve exclaimed, thoroughly frustrated by her ignorance.

“I don’t know any blind girls…”

“Forget it! You have my support whether you want it or not. Tell me if I can do anything, I guess.” His face contorted even as the words left his mouth. The offer to help Leora seemed to cause him physical pain.

The maiden thought for a moment. Steve was unruly and loud, but she did tend to enjoy their discussions. In fact, proving Steve wrong had become one of her favorite pastimes. “Well… you could always yell at me.” She began to explain that his tirades could be used as motivation, but he had already launched into a string of insults. Perfect. No longer able to stand the wretched atmosphere of Steve’s resting place, Leora guided him outside and began walking down the road as he ranted.

Leora waited patiently for him to finish before speaking again. “I do have a query for you, actually. Lord Killa has offered a reward for contestants who make progress on their armor designs early in the preparation period. A brief overview of the designs would become public, but there may be some advantage in it. Should I submit my progress to him?”

Steve seemed offended by the question, but a voice from behind him cut in before he could reply. “Please do that!”

“Lord Ebon!” Leora greeted him, a bit surprised.

“I would love to see what I’m up against!” Ebon smiled. “I saw that shield you designed this morning. Excellent work.”

“Don’t listen to him, whore!” Steve interrupted. “And for devil’s sake don’t tell him anything. He’s out to destroy you!”

“I am not!”

“Yes you are!”

The two men began bickering like children. Leora shifted her gaze from one to the other. She couldn’t quite understand what all the fuss was about. She had been very straightforward and open in discussing her blueprints with the Villain’s Lair members, and had even shown them a copy of her plans at one point. Besides, it was obvious that Lord Ebon was out to destroy her. She was out to destroy him too, as that was the nature of tournaments.

“Don’t listen to this man’s compliment, Leora! Focus on your failures!” Steve grabbed Leora and shook her roughly. “Don’t be naive, you lazy piece of female genitalia!”

“F-f-failures?” Leora stammed as she was shaken.

“Lord Ebon has better and further developed designs! You are a failure!” He stopped shaking her long enough to swing at her face. Thankfully his drunken punches were easy to dodge.

“That’s not true,” she pointed out, recalling the previous day’s conversation with Ebon. “I’ve designed more, and Lady Mayana said-”

“Silence!” Steve roared, furious that his blow had not landed.

“Actually, she’s right.” Ebon admitted. “I haven’t started yet due to recent complications.”

“See I told ya you c- Oh!” Steve looked at Leora, a bit bewildered. “Well, that’s good. That’s very good actually.” He caught himself before delivering any actual compliments. “You’re still a lazy whore.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Leora turned back to Lord Ebon, only to find that he had begun mud-wrestling with Sir Wibbon. The blue-haired girl had been so entrenched in her discourse with Steve that she had not even noticed the other knight approach. “Guys, c’mon…”

Pain shot through her side as Steve’s elbow lodged itself into her ribs. “Don’t socialize with the competition!” he barked. “Go work on your armor you piece of dog feces!”

So this was Steve’s version of “helping.” Leora groaned, rubbing her side. This was going to be an interesting tournament.

shit's gettin real in the Council thread. Steve vs Leora, place your bets folks.

My bet is on Leora. Steve can't keep up with her.

Pretty sure we're on the same side. Hell, her story's not even particularly insulting about me.

He's right. I'm not sure why exactly, but Steve's on my team ^_^

You poor naive fool.

The bet can still go on! Who thinks this partnership will last to the end? vs Who thinks this partnership will fail before then?

I vote for the partnership lasting to the end! \o

I think it'll be fine. Steve loves hurling insults and I've built up a tolerance to insults after years of bullying! It's perfect!

Shouting and the clang of weapons rang through the streets of Cystia, a not unusual circumstance that even in these times of peace, barely turned a head. As was becoming more and more common these days, the source of it was once again from infighting amongst the Council.

Those who knew the paladin Sir Ebon and the formerly exiled cleric Wibbons might have found the scene in front of the blacksmith’s surprising however, as the two who had not long ago taken oaths to rid the kingdom of evil in a holy quest were now locked in furious combat.

“O unworthy insolence! Wherefore doth spurn'd knave beseech my lady Mayana’s affections?”

“You knew she was repairing my armor and you tricked her into taking on all of yours too! And dammit Wibbons, we all know you can speak English when you want to!”

“You realize I can repair more than one set of armor at a time, right Ebon, you idiot?” Mayana asked a space two feet to their left, once the fighting came to a lull, the two men circling each other warily. The Medusan stood in front of her forge, arms crossed, and probably would’ve been rolling her eyes if she had any. Various bits of mismatched armor were heaped up behind her, the pile towering over her head.

“Mayana, but he’s the competition! You’re assisting the enemy! And besides, I thought we had an arrangement. I gave you all of my prize money last time!” Ebon was speaking of course of the tournaments the kingdom’s rulers often held, purely for entertainment, and not of anything that mattered to anyone who wasn’t focused purely on personal glory.

“Well I guess you thought wrong, Ebon, you retard. You don’t own me, and I take any job I want if the pay is right. I’m fixing up Lady Leora’s armor too, for that matter.” Maya pointed to a half-eaten sandwich she held as she spoke, which she probably thought was the armor in question.

“O beastly spite! From whence doth bitter burden excoriate not th' wind's honor?” agreed Wibbons, maybe.

“ENGLISH!”

“Ugh, fine. I’m just saying, you’re so full of yourself, you...you Steve!”

There was a collective gasp and a sudden deathly silence fell over the market place.

“What did you call me?” Ebon asked, voice low and dangerous, seizing his sword again and approaching slowly.

“Oh, believe me, we’ve all been thinking it. You’re so arrogant when it comes to these tournaments, and now you’re turning on your own friends over them.”

“Arrogant? Please. Maybe I’m just trying to push someone, somewhere, into putting up a real resistance to my inevitable victory. Or haven’t you noticed I’ve been winning these things left and right? Why shouldn’t Ebon be arrogant?”

“See! You’re doing it again!”

“Doing what?” Ebon looked confused a moment, then shook his head. “And anyhow, it was the two of you who betrayed ME. You’re not fooling anyone, your jealously led to this sabotage, Wibbons! May will be buried alive under all this work and unable to properly focus on the important thing! Ebon!”

“What do I have to be jealous of? My armor is just as good as yours, I’m simply gratefully accepting Mayana’s offered help.”

Ebon turned to the blacksmith and helpfully explained, “May, I’m making a ‘Pfffft, get a load of this guy!’ gesture and dramatically rolling my eyes, at the ridiculous notion that his armor is anywhere near as quality as mine.”

She shrugged. “I like Wibbons’ armor. It’s easy to work on, unlike yours.”

“Pffffffft. That’s because it’s...” He waved a hand disdainfully at the plain armor with the extremely, extremely dull matte finish, which was rumored to contain secret enchantments making anyone who looked too long upon it fall asleep. “...well look at it!”

“Seriously?”

“Oh right.”

“Mayana, how amusing! Ebon is just afraid he’ll fail in the tournament without your help.”

“I am not.”

“Sure you are. Tee hee.” Wibbons rubbed his hands together and grinned to himself.

“I am not! I don’t need her help at all! Mayana...” He marched over and angrily gathered up his armor. “I’ll fix my own armor! This is for your own good.”

“What?” the Medusan’s face instantly clouded with rage. “How dare you not let me fix your armor! You imbecile! You pig!” With an enraged yell she launched herself at him, all of the snakes on her head snapping and hissing. Wibbons stood back from this new brawl, still grinning and nodding to himself, every now and then contributing by jabbing Ebon with a long wooden stick to keep him distracted.

A paladin getting his ass beat resoundingly by a blind blacksmith was novel enough that passerbys started to take notice, among them Lady Mizal. She had just began embarking on her favorite passtime of making snarky, derisive remarks about all participants to anyone who would listen when she saw Lady Leora, who had been standing quietly nearby and staying out of the argument, suddenly stagger and fall.

“Are you okay?” she asked, rushing over and slapping the blue-haired girl a few times, either to help her wake up or because she just liked slapping random people in the face.

“I’m--ow! I’ll be all r--ow! I’m awake! And I’ll be all right, thank you.” Leora sat up, putting a dainty hand to her forehead. “I do apologize for the trouble. I seem to have once again fallen victim to my condition.”

“Condition?”

“Yes, you see, I got to thinking about how Ebon repairing his own armor while I still retained Mayana’s services would improve my own chances in the tournament.”

“Er...I don’t follow. What’s your condition again?”

Leora looked apologetic. “It’s so troublesome, I’m sorry again. But what happens is that I fall unconscious every time I have an...unkind thought.” She finished that last in hushed whisper.

“That fucking sucks. Wow. How do you even function?”

“It really is a bother. Why, this is already the second time it’s ever happened to me!”

Mizal considered that a moment, then brightened. “Leora, actually, I think I have just the thing for that!” The elf led the blue-haired maiden to her laboratory in the castle basement and began collecting unlabeled vials of glowing liquid, bundles of herbs, and jars of various unsavory things from the shelves while the cauldron came to a boil.

“Here, drink this!” she said, pouring some of the final concoction into a mug. It had an oily sheen across the top and as they watched a bubble rose lazily to the surface with a thick plop that revealed bits of debris (perhaps cat hair?) floating in its murky depths.

Leora looked dubious, but upon further urging held her nose and chugged the potion down. “Gah! That was awful! What did you put in it?”

“I have no idea. I just remembered my character was originally established as an alchemist, and wanted to do something with that at some point in one of these newer stories. But did it help?”

The other woman glared at her a moment, then blinked. “How strange. I suppose it must have, because I just had a great number of unkind thoughts, all at once. All directed at you.”

“Understandable. And that’s great! Heh, guess I’ve still got it.”

Mizal and Leora went to a theater to listen to a dramatic reading of War and Peace and after that went to place some gold coins that they first mined and forged by hand as bets on a tortoise race, then returned to the marketplace and followed the sounds of bickering until they found the three morons still slugging it out.

In the courtyard of the castle, Mayana was fiercely attacking a kumquat tree while shouting insults presumably intended for Ebon, while the paladin himself wrestled on the ground with his cleric friend in a muddy pit. Both men had lost all their clothes somehow and were squealing like pigs.

“What a puerile display,” sniffed Sir Malk, who was seated at a table nearby. He shook his head and sipped tea from a tiny cup, pinky extended.

“Indeed,” agreed Steve, adjusting his monocle.

Now, it just so happened the feared and legendary Necromaster was visiting the castle to explain some of the finer points of flame magic, and the noise was enough to annoy even him. “IAP, deal with them.”

IAP, who was...an undead lumberjack, or something, as near as anyone could recall, and currently working as the Necromaster’s personal bodyguard, lumbered over and used his incredible strength to drag the protesting Ebon and Wibbons out onto dry land and hold them apart from each other. “Violating the terms of service,” he rumbled, pointing at the sign reading ‘MILFS ONLY’ at the edge of the mud pit. The two combatants whined and feebly slapped at him, a contest of strength and moral fibre which couldn’t have been less in their favor had they been pathetic iGen children setting themselves against the rugged paragon of all manly virtue. Eventually they realized the mud they'd been slinging wasn't quite enough to hide the core issue of how very, very tiny their dicks were and gave up to focus on disguising that instead.

“Yeah, now haul those two off to the dungeon,” the Necromaster ordered. “They can continue their sissy slapfight there if they really want but I mean damn, I’m trying to talk about ancient communities of chaotic fire mages here, and these two are ENTIRELY the wrong kind of flaming.”

(Mayana meanwhile managed to avoid attention by disguising herself as the sweet, helpless kind of blind girl and pretending her stabbing stick was a cane.)

“So what was that all even about?” IAP grunted to Mizal and Leora when he returned.

They briefly explained. “I mean, it doesn’t make any sense to normal people, but that’s what I was able to gather from all the yelling they were doing,” Mizal finished with a shrug.

“Okay. But what why all the fuss over the armor? They do know the tournament is, you know...a storytelling competition?”

“I have no idea. But, let’s definitely not tell them, just in case.”

This one is my favorite so far.

Well, I have been able to write more ever since Eb and I have started our friendly duel to the death, so I'd say it has been helping me. Also, be glad that I post in such an overtly formal manner, for you'd have no idea what the Hell I'm saying if my spoken word became text.

Example (read in a mild redneck accent): Shucks, you know me and Eb didn't fight today, right? We just talked like normal people who talk and such on a chat. See? Man, I don't know why y'all have become so lookinlike on our quarrels and such, 'cause there like fifty thousand other groovy things that do be on that dang chat.
^that's how I informally speak when I'm quickly talking, irl. :)

Now record yourself saying this.

The darkness was oppressive. It encroached on the light from the only torch in the jail cell, nearly smothering it. In the center of the room, and etched onto the floor was a rune of a cross. Dim white light emanated from the lines of the rune, and, coupled with the torchlight, gave barely enough light for sight. In the center of the rune sat Lord Ebon with his eyes closed, legs crossed, and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

An unearthly screech broke the silence of the room shocking Ebon from his session of meditation. Digit had just awoken from his slumber to find that his body pillow, complete with a drawing of a scantily clad, prepubescent girl, had disappeared from him while he was sleeping. 

Ebon looked from Digit to IBV, who was laying on the floor with her arms and legs wrapped around said pillow, and an amused smile spread across his face. Digit was not as amused. 

"Give me back my pillow, IBV!" Digit shouts from across the room, as he stalks angrily towards her. 

IBV, who was still half asleep, responds tiredly, "It's so soft though. I think I'll keep it." She closes her eyes and attempts to go back to sleep, but Digit wasn't done with her yet. 

"I can stand being thrown into a cell with a diseased whore and a self-righteous prick. I can even stand you constantly cheating at Jenga, but I will not allow you to ruin my pillow!" He shouts at IBV at the top of his lungs. 

Ebon looks on with surprise, while IBV just widens her eyes. Neither of them had seen Digit this angry before. If he was larger, or even just a little more imposing, IBV might've been afraid he was going to hit her. As it was, however, a short, hispanic, weebkin, doesn't cut a very imposing figure. 

Thus, she responds with light laughter and a small smile "If you want it so bad then why don't you come and get it," IBV tells Digit with a seductive edge in her voice. She dry humps the pillow a couple times for good measure.  

Digit's expression suddenly turns from anger to confusion, as he contemplates his options here. On one hand IBV had Digit's most prized possession. On the other hand, this was the first time a girl had ever smiled or giggled at Digit before. The first time ever.

"Uh, bu- I-," Digit starts, but then promptly panics and turns to Ebon. "Help."

"How? There's no way in hell I'm going to leave my circle. Just get it yourself," Ebon tells Digit.

"Come on. Aren't you a paladin or something? Use your holy magic to smite her or something."

Ebon shakes his head. "I'm using all of my magic to make sure I don't catch whatever she has," he tells Digit pointedly. 

"Surely you can do something," is all Digit says in response. 

Ebon sighs. "Uh, if you can beat Chris in this contest, then I'll get you a new pillow?" 

With that, a smile completely takes over Digit's face. "Sweet, that'll be easy then. I'll get started immediately then," he says a he walks away from a disappointed IBV, and to the far wall. 

Aside from Jenga, the only other thing in the cell to occupy time with is writing. Consequently, stacks upon stacks of parchment sit against a wall with inkwells off to the side. Oddly enough, the stacks of Parchment seem largely undisturbed, and unused. Digit takes some of these and sits himself back in his corner to get to work. 

"Hey, no fair! If Digit gets something from you, then so do I," IBV, tells Ebon. 

Ebon sighs again. "What do you want?" 

A mischievous grin replaces her light smile. "I want you to bend me ov-" 

As soon as he hears the start of her request, Ebon tunes her out and immediately starts meditating again. 

It was going to be a long day.