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Lady Mizal awoke to the sounds of hammers and saws in the distance. Reaching drowsily for the weird dragon thing she always kept within reach, she made her way to the tower window, peering out to the west and arching a brow. In the old training field a ways beyond the castle walls, some manner of construction was underway. It was odd. Usually she woke to the sounds of screaming and only ever looked outside to see what the Fools had drunkenly set on fire this time, and whether her services would be needed to give those responsible a taste of a more deliberately prepared flame, but times were changing in Cystia indeed.

Dressing herself against the early morning chill, she draped a wolfskin over her shoulders—a trophy from one of the Furfuhkian rabble’s many invasion attempts—settled the dragon thing comfortably onto her head and made her way down the stairs and out past the castle gates, sparing only a brief glance toward the still smoldering ruins of the Blue Wizard’s tower.

“M’lady Mizal!” A youth in flapping rags hopped up from where he’d been lounging near the entrance. His attire and manner of speaking reminded her of one of the Fools, and so she immediately plucked a barbed quill from her reptilian headwear and stabbed him in the right testicle. He immediately collapsed and begin to writhe and froth at the mouth. There were many of the needle-pointed quills hidden beneath her pet’s mane, and she painted them afresh with various homebrewed venoms every night.

Something had fallen from the youth’s hand, and she frowned at a case of pencils and paints. Oh right, she vaguely recollected this one. Somehow she’d agreed to allow him to make some portraits of her. Zag Ragbag, or something like that. Hmm. Well in that case she probably shouldn’t have fatally poisoned him. Selecting another wickedly pointed quill, she jabbed it in his left testicle and left it there. That was the antidote, she believed. Well, at least to the best of her recollection. Squire Tim or one of his feckless friends would need to drag him off soon, either way. He was right in the way of the gate.

Stepping over his senseless form, she walked through the market and over the bridge, frowning as she passed near the shanty town known as the Game Pit. Even after the Great Purge, a few orphans and stragglers of the Furfuhkian Warrior Cat cult remained. Many had simply switched to building shrines to wolves after their sacred forests had been burned by the Banishing King’s forces, while others had not entirely renounced their feline affiliations. Either way, once the ashes had settled they’d naturally drifted into the company of the Fools, and built this...disreputable place of debauchery, ignorance and squalor, where it remained a trap for uneducated immigrants and the less prudent among the peasantry, enticing them wasteful living and overall uselessness.

The stench wafting from within was unbearable, and Lady Mizal covered her nose and hurried past, overhearing snatches of deranged laughter and the wheedling of a brothel madam who seemed to be trying to entice a bedraggled FurFuhkian foxchild to move into her ‘friendly’ establishment and become one of her two-copper whores.

Thankfully she was soon past it and into cleaner air, at the construction site she’d seen from her tower.

There, she saw none other than Sir Bucky O'Hare, that scarred veteran and hero of so many prior wars. He had stood steadfast in the front lines to defend the kingdom from insidious and toxic cults, factions, and hordes time and time again when all other hope seemed lost. Recently, his faith had been tested and he’d suffered scorn and sabotage from one who should have been an ally, but justice had prevailed in an unexpected way, a legendary hero had returned, and the ruling class had had a much needed infusion of new blood, giving rise to hopes of better days ahead for this broken sewer pipe of a kingdom.

“Sir Bucky, I can’t help but notice you seem to be marshaling carpenters and masons today. Have you traded in your soldiers? And what’s the meaning of this?” the elven lady asked, after watching the proceedings a short while with a bemused expression.

“Ah, Lady Mizal! Just the woman I wanted to see! You’re looking...heh, ravishable as ever.”

“I don’t doubt that. But I asked a question. Please answer it quickly, you know I detest lingering out here among these peasants.”

“As you wish, my lady. If you’ll look at the foundation being laid in over here, you’ll see the beginnings of my gift to the kingdom; a gift to all Cystians, noble, peasant, and immigrant alike. A place where a love for higher learning and self improvement, an appreciation for the arts might be cultivated for the betterment of all.”

“Mm. I’m afraid you lost me at ‘peasants and immigrants’.

“Pah. Even your cruel elven heart won’t be able to resist the allure of making Cystia great again,” the old soldier insisted. “It’s true that many of the...shall we say less legitimate citizenry may be too set in their passive, slovenly ways to be willing to contribute even to something created purely for their own benefit, but, what we’ll build here will stand as long as the kingdom does. Mizal, what I’m having built here is what I want to be my true legacy. The Furfuhkian hordes, the Game Pit rabble, the Fools of all kinds and now the Blue Witches too...they can throw rocks and their own shit at the walls and be as full of senseless noise and fury as they like, but I won’t let them be a distraction from what matters any longer. If they won’t stand down, I’ll bathe my sword in their blood and grind them under my heel as many times as it takes, but I’ll be damned if I let them stand in the way of building this...” Here he paused and gestured at the stone foundation and the first portion of the walls before continuing in a tone of pride and reverence. “The Great Library of Cystia!”

So you left me to die, a slow painful death by poison? Nice.

No, read it again, I totally stabbed you in the left nut with what was probably the antidote. You can write in your own continuing adventures if you like, but consider this a gentle reminder that it's been 20 days since you asked for characters for your comic thingy and people who submitted ideas might appreciate updates or samples.

(yw for the helpful inspiration to work on your thing!)

Thanks for the reminder! (Still working on getting to draw the characters better, and thinking of a few stories.)

Also, can I ask you some more questions about your character?

What are a few pet peeves of hers?

Hobbies? 

Does she have any interesting quirks?

What is her goal in life?

Children

Hurting children

Likes to hurt children

Rid the world of children forever

If there's anything you really need to know you can always PM me, I'd like to keep the thread as uncluttered and focused on the blurbs as possible, and like Steve and I already touched on in the old thread, any details like that would really be up to Chris since he's the one that has to cram all these ridiculous characters into his plot.

As long as I'm not redeemed in any way, I'm happy with whatever portrayal.

But, he left it up to me to write the first one.

Then you're in charge of Lady Mizal and Steve the Spiteful, Soul-Starved Satanic Shackled Spirit.

Yep.

I can help.

You know, instead of doing PR.

Oh hey I was mentioned.

I like this interpretation.

I can imagine you dragging me off somewhere.

Like Croagunk and Brock from Pokemon Diamond and Pearl. 

Lol Zag Ragbag

Anyway I'll be adding more blurbs over the week. I didn't bother with an intro but in case it wasn't clear this is just like one of Bucky's Call to Arms threads, add in your own stuff as you like. No worries about other people's canon/chronology or any of that, just keep it in the vaguely defined Kingdom of Cystia setting. (ie: no tanks)

Alright. I'll be up to writing one.

Soon.

This made me smile.

Steve's not so great. I can write stories too.

 

Cystians paraded up and down the streets of Thelounge, marching and chanting to the beat of homemade catskin drums. “Kill the noob! Burn the cat!” they shouted in unison, facing gleaming in the firelight, nearly overcome by patriotic fervor. At certain set places they’d stop to hang a (real, actual) noob and burn a cat in effigy. (Real cats being rare these days, and immediately torn apart by a mob wherever they were found.) Since this was Thelounge, the celebrators at times slogged knee-deep through trash and mud and...well they hoped it was only mud, but that never dampened their spirits, because this was Banishing Day, the kingdom’s most beloved national holiday.

Suddenly a stranger appeared in a puff of smoke and magic!

“Hello everyone!” Axiom said, tilting her shades down to peer around distastefully. “I see you are all ignorant, grime-encrusted peasants in need of my great wisdom, presuming I can’t convince you to go for the more direct option and just kill yourselves.”

“Huh? What was that?” someone asked, confused.

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

“Huh?” echoed through the crowd.

She coughed and cleared her throat. “Ummm what I meant to say is you are all very creative, good job! But I have some suggestions to improve your...lifestyle, clothing, hygiene, just, everything about the structure of your lives really. You’re in desperate need of improvement.”

“Huh? I don’t understand,” complained another peasant, scratching an open sore on their backside with fingernails encrusted in pig feces.

“Now, let me show you the first and most important thing in my magic bag of tricks!” Axiom whipped out a book. “This book is what I live by! It explains everything you need to know. Save the Cat!”

The effect on the crowd was instantaneous. A low, ugly murmuring washed over them, and then they turned on her as one. “Heresy! Blasphemy! Burn the cat! Burn the witch!” The night echoed with enraged cries for blood as Axiom fled, the angry mob grabbing up their torches and pursuing.

“It’s not what you thiiiink!” she screeched, stumbling into a clearing where some manner of construction was going on.

Bucky and Mizal looked up and hurriedly adjusted their clothes, interrupted in their moonlight tryst behind the partially constructed walls of the future library.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked, grabbing for his sword before remembering he was wearing pants and grabbing for his real sword instead.

“I see a bunch of peasants! What are they--actually, it doesn’t matter.” Mizal rummaged through her things and pulled out some sealed glass flasks labeled ‘Peasant-B-Gone’ and started lobbing them at the angry torch-waving crowd.

“You and your alchemy,” Bucky muttered. “What’s do you have in those potions?”

“Kerosene.”

The night erupted into screams and fire.

“Thank you for saving me. By the way, the structure of this library is very poor.” Axiom said. “Never fear though, I can tell you in exhaustive detail how to fix it! I’m a real wizard you know, unlike some here,” she added, showing them the contents of her blag. “I have a wizard’s hat and everything.”   

 

You should write a story about Steve's mob/army against your lone heroes. Though that's pretty much what you wrote in less detail.

Ahahaha, that's great. Nice job capturing the essence of the Axiom character.

Oh, wow, this was just great. Had me laughing the whole way through.

Cystia, two months prior

Steve and Mizal sat around the remains of their meal, sipping coffee with the morning sun streaming in through the tower windows. Their long and bitter rivalry was a thing of the past, especially now that Steve had finally come out of the closet.

‘The closet’ in this case being his stolen human husk, now a soulless mockery of life he merely puppeted around. Mizal couldn’t explain why, she just found him so much more likable and relatable now that he’d admitted to being a shackled spirit, an ancient, manipulative spirit out to possess and destroy and spread misery to mankind.

“--and then, can you believe this?” he was saying. “The bitch looked me right in the eye and told me an army of zombie girlfriends was boring. Boring! Unbelievable. I was like, how dare you!” Shaking his head, he drained the last of his coffee.

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste. More coffee? I have regular water if those bottled tears made it too salty.”

“Nah, the tears were great, but I’ve got errands.”

“I suppose I’ll go and make a few visits, then. Sir Bucky sent me some daft letter about leaving the kingdom. It seems the Blue Wizard’s been giving him trouble, so he’s talking about running off to Cogtopia or something dramatic like that.”

“Cogtopia? That place is run by fairies!”

“I know!” Mizal rolled her eyes. “He’d never survive there. He’s at least five genders short, and I can’t even imagine what would happen when they tried to plug him into the Hivemind. Anyway, I’m sure I’ll be able to talk some sense into him. Though, I admit he’s got a point, the Blue Wizard’s behavior has gotten increasingly erratic.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed that too. What’s his problem?”

 , weakly burbled an ash-choked voice from the opposite chair. “Oh, I almost forgot Sir Iavatus! I should bring him with me,” Mizal said, going for a bucket and a broom and sweeping the charred and leaking lump into it.

“Uh, so Ivy’s still not...great, I noticed,” Steve said with a light cough.

Mizal frowned down at the mess. “Well, bringing the dead back to life isn’t really anyone’s strong-point around here. Most of us are more skilled at doing the opposite.”  

“Pfft. Like anyone ever stays dead in this kingdom, even after a direct bolt from a god-wizard. Though by the way, I always carry around something like 200 demonic hitchhikers on my person, if you want me to put a little Legion in his regions and-”

“Er. Thanks, but I’ll pass. We’ll just give him some more time to recover the normal way before considering anything drastic.”

“Suit yourself! Anyway, thanks for breakfast. The muffins and melons were lovely, but I also enjoyed the sausages. I’m going to head out now and find Sir Malk. I’ve got some new plans for spreading death and misery throughout the world I want to run by him, since he’s such an agreeable eager to please little sidekick. Also, I want to see if I can convince him to sit in my lap while in Capybara form.”

Mizal nodded and gestured for her assistant to clear the table.

“Wait, who’s that? I’ve never noticed her before. Has she been here the whole time?”  

“Oh, that’s just my assistant. But, I forget her name. And I’m not sure, I wasn’t paying attention. Bucky said she came ‘highly recommended’, though, and so that’s why I hired her.”

“Was he winking and rubbing his crotch when he said that?”

“Er...yes, now that I think of it. But he always does that.” Mizal answered with a shrug.

“Anyway, we’ve spilled so many dark secrets during this talk, I’m not sure I want any of it getting out. Can’t have another situation like with that Crock Jarr kid. But don’t worry, I know just the thing!”

“Oh. Hmm. Good point I guess. So, you think...some sort of forgetfulness spell, then?”

“Sure. Something like that.” Steve grabbed the girl, dragged her across the room, and gave her a vicious kick down the stairs. They stood there and listened for several moments while she bumped and thudded its way down to the apple cellar at the bottom.

“Did you just kill my assistant?”

“Kill? Oh, no. No, she’ll be just fine, don’t worry about it!” Steve hustled down the stairs with Mizal frowning and lighting a candle to follow. Down in the cellar t hey found the girl’s broken form sprawled across a smashed apple crate. Her neck was twisted in a way necks weren’t supposed to twist.

“I think you killed my--”

“I did not! She’s fine.” To prove his point, Steve muttered an incantation and snapped his fingers, and one of the girl’s arms suddenly jerked upwards as though pulled by a puppet’s string, followed by the rest of her limbs as she rose unsteadily to her feet, movements stiff and unnatural. Her eyes opened to show only whites and her neck yawed off at an impossible angle to one side.

“See? Totally fine! I, uh, think I’ll take her home with me and the other 199 to keep an eye on for a little while, though, until she’s filling more like her new self.”     

“Suit yourself,” Mizal waved him off, and then decided to restart the feud again once she realized she’d have to clean up all the dishes herself.

It's no Council of Nine, but it'll do. Loved Ivy's little role. Funny story, all in all.

Your newfangled Council of Nine shit will be a flash in the pan. I'm sticking with the classics thanks. :[

Haven't written one of these in a while. To be frank, nothing much interesting happens here anymore. Hence why the following tale is completely fictional and references nothing and no one real. :)

 

Guards and servants paused in their duties and turned curiously to watch as a primly dressed and matronly schoolmarm marched a snot-nosed peasant brat through the courtyard. She marched him past the walls decorated with the heads of feral Furfuq children on spikes, and past the gallows where a fresh batch of immigrants who couldn’t pass the literacy test had been ushered to just this morning. She marched him past the alcove where Sir Steve and Sir Malk Alack were slicing away bits of the intestines of still-living peasants to use as condoms, just for fun.

The schoolmarm rapped smartly on the castle door with her yardstick. “Who’s in charge here? I wish to file a complaint.”

The doorman stared at the two and blinked slowly. “Er, His Glorious Tyranny Endmaster is away protecting our borders and slaying Fools, as any red-blooded, divinely-appointed godwizard worth his salt would do, but I think a couple of wizards are playing cards in the back, if you really want to risk—”

“Excellent. Bring them to me.”

“Errr…are you sure you want me to..”

“Now!” The yardstick lashed out and whacked him across the dick. “I’m not used to being kept waiting, young man.”    
 
“Y-yes ma’am!” the doorman yelped, tears springing to his eyes. He hobbled quickly down the hall and in a few moments returned. With him was the mighty Burk the Hammerer and...what appeared to be some sort of laser-eyed titanium death machine, but Cystia was a progressive kingdom and laser-eyed titanium death machines could be wizards to.

“What seems to be the problem here?” Burk demanded gruffly.

“WHO DARES DISTURB THE WIZARDS.” The titanium man’s usual monotonous metallic rasp always left questions implied, at best.

“Hmph.” The schoolmarm adjusted her glasses and fixed them with a disapproving frown. “I’m here to register a complaint. You see, little Johnny here...” She paused, whipping out a handkerchief to swipe the line of drool from the corner of the boy’s mouth and nudged him forward. “...was standing in the public square, innocently pushing beans up his nose, when a man in a poorly constructed penguin suit pushed him down in the mud, lightly bruising his shin, and laughed at him. This kind of behavior is deplorable! I’m very upset on little Johnny’s behalf and wish for the penguin man to be punished.”

“Lightly bruising his shin? Lady, are you serious? Anyone else here would’ve lopped off his head, posed the corpse like a Thanksgiving turkey and basted it with--”

“Enough! Look...” The schoolmarm thrust out her chest, smoothing her shirt, and ran a hand over her tightly coiffed bun, artfully adorned with freshly sharpened No 2 pencils. Her voice was suddenly low and sultry. “How about the two of you see me after cl--I mean, let me talk to you alone?”

*****

For the next four hours, from one of the castle’s inner chamber, cries such as, “NO! You bad, bad boy. If you can’t properly attend to the Bs, how can you hope to earn relief for the C? Now go back and do it again!” were heard, punctuated with sharp cracks from a yardstick.

When the exhausted Burk emerged, straightening his wizard robes to hide the red marks, “Burn the penguin man’s home to the ground!” was his first declaration. The crowd stared in stunned silence. “Do it!”

The schoolmarm fixed everyone with a smug smile. “And little Johnny?”

“Yes, of course Mistr—ma’am,” Burk hastily moved to comply. “As for the child...” Burk turned and waved his magic wand in the boy’s face (no not THAT magic wand, you disgusting perverts...) and shimmering protective runes formed in the air, coalescing into holy words above his head: NICE COMMENTS ONLY.   

“Ugh. So that seductress worked her charms on him, but how’s she get her way with the titanium man?” a disgruntled guard was heard to mutter.

“Oh, that. It’s elementary, my dears,” the teacher said, pulling a small box from her purse. “Like all robots, this one had a clearly labeled ‘deactivate’ button on his back, located right next to the Good/Evil toggle. I immediately pressed it and while he was shut down, well...” Flipping the box open, she displayed a set of detachable titanium testicles, now firmly in her possession. “Let’s just say I’m as handy with the wrenching as I am with the screwing.”

Snapping the box shut, she then marched away into the sunset. Little Johnny, for his part, drifted obliviously through the kingdom and received many nice, polite comments before climbing serenely into a candy-offering stranger’s van and never being heard from again.

*****

“So, you want a schoolmarm disguise?” Mizal asked, looking almost as confused as Tim for a moment.

“Yes! I must, I must have one!” The penguin man had hardly paused in his restless pacing since he arrived in her tower.  

“Hmm. All right, there’s this very simple illusion spell, called the Vorpal Persona Negator—VPN for short—that absolutely anyone can use to disguise their true selves. You could take on the appearance of a hundred different schoolmarms, by this time tomorrow, if you--”

“No, no, no, I don’t simply want to appear as a schoolmarm, I want to be one. The same way I’m a penguin.”

Mizal looked in silence a moment at the tattered, unwashed penguin costume no one had ever seen him remove. “Ah. Okay. So...you want a schoolmarm costume...”

“To wear over my penguin body! Yes!”

“And this will help you get revenge somehow?”

“No no no! Mizal, you don’t understand. I don’t care about my house. But now we’ve all seen there’s a surefire way to win the affections of that beautiful, beautiful man, who I’m convinced in some mystical way shares a connection to penguins as well, and I’m determined to--”

“I get you, I get you, all right then. No details. Please.” Mizal took out a tape measure. “All right, the first thing I’ll need is the fresh skins of...three...” She squinted at the floppy black cardboard wings. “Eh, better make it four...so, the fresh skins of four schoolmarms. Here’s a knife. Have fun!”

“Oh I will!” Beak clacking in wicked mirth, her client waddled out the door, a man pretending to be an animal on a mission.

For some reason, these characters seem familiar. :)
Anyway, I was afraid both of these were dead. I'm glad to see that at least one has come back to life. We're looking at you, Steve.

I have one about the tyranny of End that I started after the 2 star purge, but it's not exactly topical anymore.

We need some fresh drama around here, badly.

I, for one would love to read the one about the tyranny of End. :3

LemonAIDs is the tragic hero, unjustly singled out.

I'm surprised he was able to play off the Charaxes thing for so long. Had me fooled. Didn't think he had anywhere near that level of restraint.

It is still unknown if he was truly the Moth girl, though it is pretty likely since Charaxes/Lemon disappeared after Endmaster found out they had the same IP.

That potential alt is still around just on the slight chance it really was a different person. 

If LemonAIDS really is killer moth girl then he's fine to resume his oppressed lesbian Mormon personality because it sure as hell was better than his real one. 

(If he breaks character though, he's banned again)

"oppressed lesbian"...?
I think I missed something at some point...o-o

Charaxes was usually going on about how her wacky Mormon parents were giving her shit about being a lesbian and forcing her to go out with boys, and she took some chick to her dance instead. 

She made like 2 or 3 threads like that and then begged me to delete them. Might be why you missed them.

Ah...o-o
Yeah, I missed those. I don't recall seeing anything like that, and I know my memory is not that bad. Hopefully.

Do you remember the time that you and mizal made sweet love on the mountaintop while drinking fine wine and singing songs about the South Land? If you don't, I pray for you because she'll be going after you with a big fat stick for that slight.

I don't. Oh god, what do I say.

Ummmm...........................Yes.........

Sir Key, your ass is grass.

I am going to be mowed.

Someone made a special request for me to be nice because they saw one of those threads and felt bad for her. And so I was just sitting there twitching all the while she was making posts claiming to be one of the most helpful members of the site or flipping out on Axiom for oppressing her with the concept of outlining or whatever.

I'm not necessarily convinced they were the same person even now, or if so putting that much work into different personas is the most talent and effort they ever displayed in any area of the site.

I actually never believed Charaxes to be female. The personality had to many odd things (such as being a lesbian Mormon from California) or things that screamed "I'm totally a female" (such as his post stating that he discussed on a bus with a jock on how female bras did not have attachments to make the sizes null).

I wonder if they were BerkaZerka and Killa_Robot...xD

Nice job! I really like these :D