I disappeared from this place for an incredible amount of time. That's ok, though. At least I think it is. I figured it might be a good idea to return to my foruming roots, as lately I've been having a generally rough time in life.

Anyway, I'll probably be sprucing this thing up for a while. I've been on a writing high lately due to emotions and all that, so maybe you'll all get a little bit of something something, along with some regular drawings of cool things.

Things I'm looking for:
-Opinions and interpretations, especially of artwork and writing that seem to have a meaning behind them.
-Critique on syntax, grammar, awkward sentences, imagery, imagery placement, and plot.
-Readers.
-Discussion relating to themes of artwork.

I find it in poor taste to start off an art thread with a double post (one being a "hey this is what the thread is about" and the other being what it is actually about), so I'll give you all a little 720 word short I wrote. It's based off a dream, but I'd greatly love it if you can tell the symbolism that I injected as well as give me critique on the general imagery of the piece.

The air is arid in the desert. It is arid, and disturbed. Ghostly red-brown wisps glide and leap from shrub to shrub. A lizard, happy with the warmth it’d absorbed from our yellow sun, skittered underneath its clay red rock in satisfaction. A snake slipped, and fell off an unnoticeable cliff face.
Mesas; they always meant a lot to him. The very air’s dust made his suit dirty. An old man, slightly darker and unshaven, sat on the ground next to him. The suited man inhaled the air. Raspy particles fled down his nostrils and the dryness of the air caused the innards of his nostrils to turn into sandpaper.

They both reveled in the mesa as the sun crept from the center of the sky downward. They kept themselves silent, and listened to the air around them. Solemn, calm, warm with the dry death of a New Mexican reservation. A snake chattered in the distance, and a jackrabbit choked its final yelp upon the Mesa’s surface. The old man tried his best to relax. Dirt managed to find its way into his cut, old, dirty jeans.

A tree above them swayed with the calm winds. An apricot fell between the both of them, and a chickadee flew away. A grave was on the old man’s side, past the suited man. The wood, crumbling and decaying, lost any semblance of a name, though both men knew it well. Heaped rocks kept the wooden cross in place as the sun crept slowly onward to the horizon.

The silence of the Mesa beat upon their ears. A bird flew overhead and onward to the sinking horizon. As the sun began to set, the old man inhaled the arid, dry air. He shut his eyes and contorted his face. Like breaking dams, liquid began to break from his lids. He reached for his silver container of liquid happiness, before looking back at the suited man.

They both took a deep breath. The smell of corn husks accompanied the dirt, and both of them remembered their days at this place, under the apricot tree. Another apricot fell, more rotten than the last. At one point, it was so ripe. It was lush with life- be it of a fruit or a bird, there was life in the tree. Dead, small leaves flitted downward onto the Mesa’s blood-brown plateau floor.

The old man stared down at his flask, and his hand trembled. In scared, panicked fury, he threw it off the Mesa. Brown liquid flew out in a spiraling motion, glistening in red-orange sunset. The container clambered its way down the mountainside in as clumsy a manner as it possibly could have. A rabbit dashed outside of the bushes, frightened. Another apricot fell, and the old man felt worse than before he thought of drinking again.

“You made me.”

The sun’s descent grew slower with every second. An apricot, half rotten, fell to the floor.

“You made me into this, and for that, I am grateful.”

They both held their composure and held back tears. The suited man sat down, letting the dirt and the ants touch his tailored black suit. He loosened his tie, and sighed. Another apricot fell.

“I love you.”

Dead leaves fell from the tree overhead, and landed on both of the man’s shoulders. Wind carried it forward and off the mountain. The old man bit his lip, and for the first time in his life, he wished that he had his mother with him.
“But I never want to see you again.”

The sun’s final rays washed over the ground, and the air around them became cold. Chilling silence crept into the old man’s bones. A symphony of crickets chirped into the night, and the withering old man couldn't bother to move his limbs when the ants crawled onto him. Coyotes howled into the bright waxing moon’s sky, and went forth to hunt through the dead shrubs. Cacti chattered with burrows of scorpions. Owls cooed forth into the night.
When the sun rose there was only a withered, old, apricot tree. Just to the side of it was a tattered wooden cross, held aloft with heaps of stones. A hawk flew overhead in the arid air of the desert.

Hey, haven't seen you around before. Welcome to the Forums...

The writing is good, very descriptive, emotive and evocative. I would personally watch out for using the same words too often - especially in the same sentence. It can make people second guess what they are reading and mess up flow. (unless it is purposefully intentional)

Hope that things get better for you soon Thoady.

Hey, haven't seen you around before. Welcome to the Forums...

WE WERE IN THE WAY OF MODERATION TOGETHER, DUDE |:C

But yes, regarding the repetition I agree. I have to work on that.

Working on another short story tomorrow. Yay.

Here's a little thing completely unrelated to the short story next time!

I know that the cylinder could really, really do with shading, but I still like it :)

Armor idly clunked and clanked against itself as the Waal army assembled itself upon the hill. A horizontal line that stretched across the horizon struck the opposing army with awe. Two hundred fifty thousand Jorl and Tark took their stations inside the castle, with an entire extra bastion of Jorl to man the gates and the ground. 25,000 men against 10,000 green-skinned half-men, the odds were incomprehensibly horrible for the High Alliance. Silence on both sides kept the impending battle all the more terrifying. A Waal coughed, and stepped back into his line. Each knew their orders. When the Dwarf's steam whistle blew, the siege engine would start to run and the Waal would break into a charge. That was the entire plan- the Waal would bloodthirstily charge the castle and rip in half anything that hit the siege engine, and the siege engine would wipe out anything behind a wall.
The air shifted above the Waal assault force as a single soldier began to hum. A wartime song he'd heard since he was a small child. Three of his companions joined in chorus, and soon the song was spread through the entire horizon. A chant, a simple rhythmic grunt, reverberated through the soldiers who knew that they had a very vivid chance of dying. The tension in their muscles tightened, and grew to fervor. Another Waal soldier beat his spear upon some dry earth, and began to stamp his foot. In the matter of minutes, the silence changed to a chorus of song and blood-ready drums beating upon the dry earth of the world.
When the steam whistle blew, the High Alliance felt their lives begin to fly away. Men made their prayers, servants of the castle realized that they would die today, and the Tark mages regretted every second they believed in the Alliance's magic-limiting philosophy. The quickening rhythm and ferocity of the war chant chimed through the Waal's feet, which were moving in perfect unison. A massive, building sized construct of brass and copper followed slowly behind. A massive iron gray blob of bodies made their exodus from the hilltops and poured horrifically quickly towards the bastion.
"Shields, prepare for impact!" Yelled a commander, desperate to keep onto his own morale, let alone his men's. Jorl with massive shields hauled the several hundred pound blockades forward. Using all of their strength, they threw the thick shields forward and planted them into the ground. Spines jutted out towards the oncoming soldiers, and the shield men braced for the impact of half a ton of Waal and metal.
"Spearmen, ready yourselves for when they try to jump them!" the commander continued to bark, hoping to pick off a large enough portion of the Waal for the mages and standard forces to handle.
"Though we may die today, we will not be sent to Hellscape alone," he told his soldiers. He restored morale to normal, while the musical fervor of the enemy drew ever closer. The Waal army ended their third chorus of the war chant with a fervent roar. The Alliance could feel their bones shudder under the sonic boom. Alliance Shield men grunted and strained as their massive shields skid over the moist earth. Spearmen cried in terror as the Waal leapt over their dead men, pinned to the massive spines on the enemy's shields.
Many of the Waal were struck with the Spearmen's shields, but in their bloodthirsty fervor the blows felt like pricks from a needle. Their swords were raised into the air, and cleaved into the thin, light armor of the Alliance. Their necks were split as their brethren were gutted. The commander raised his sword to the air, calling upon some god that was not listening. A Waal shoved him down onto the mud. The fervent beast raised a massive hammer, ready to strike down upon the commander. A spearman chucked his weapon at the beast, and pierced it through the neck. The green-skinned monster gargled a war cry before falling to the ground.
The commander stood to find four more soldiers around him, all anointed with plated armor and the blood of Alliance soldiers. They barked orders to one another in a foreign tongue as the commander readied his sword. One of the heaps of metal lunged forward, and the commander deftly stepped out of the way, bringing down his sword upon the man's hand. The sword was knocked out of the way! Feeling victory approach, he swung his body around. An axe nearly struck him in the brow as he pivoted, which he then grabbed. With expert precision, he stabbed the Waal soldier in the throat, pulling his arm forward.
As victory and survival seemed possible for him, the last of the armed soldiers shoved his three foot dagger into the base of the commander's skull. Two bodies, robbed of their life, fell to the moistening floor. "The ground here will make excellent farming land one day," one of the Waal soldiers casually yelled to the other.
"It shall, but we needn't worry about that. Jauffrey is dead!" the companion called back over the sounds of war.
"Jauffrey died for a good cause, let's go," the larger told him. He looked at his armored hand, to find that his wrist had been lightly cut. It would have to wait, there were more pressing matters at hand.
"But Lob," the smaller asked, grabbing Jauffrey's war axe.
"It's what he would have wanted, Droll," Lob broke into a sprint, and brought his metal fist down unto an opposing soldier's nose. More blood coated his right hand, and a slight pain shuddered his senses. Droll made no further attempt to communicate what he wanted to do with Jauffrey's body- to give it the proper burial it deserved. They both made a mad dash forward to the castle walls. Fire, in concentrated balls, beat upon their other heavily armored brethren.
"How far off is the engine?" Droll called over the screams. Lob looked off into the distance, and held up three fingers. "Three minutes?" he asked. Lob growled, and Droll knew his answer had been correct.
They both looked upward as a cauldron began to overturn onto their position. Only Droll and his smaller size could properly move in time. Lob became engulfed by oil, which bubbled and crackled on his skin. It got under his armor, and the man became a properly served dinner. Droll mourned for him, but was cut off by an inhuman screech from behind the walls.
A small whizzing sound resonated, and a purple arc of flowing energy leapt from dead man to dead man. Slowly, each attempted to get up. The bodies without limbs writhed and wriggled to no avail, but the minimally injured bodies of the burnt stood perfectly. A Waal soldier of great stature yelled out, "They have a necromancer- form up and don't die!" With skills beaten into him since he was a small child, Droll dashed for a group- any group of soldiers and brought his back to them.
Undead rose from the bloody mud. The majority of them were Alliance- a good sign. The second wave set upon them as the whizzing screech began to set in from behind the castle's walls. The siege engine was near, surely the castle would be destroyed. A Waal soldier began his chant again, and his team's axes cleaved into the enemy to the perfect beat. Their hearts reverberated with pleasure with every killing blow.
The battle turned into their favor again as the siege engine strolled into combat range. It blew its whistle, and the Waal roared. The massive machine had the rough resemblance of a cannon and a crossbow placed upon a small factory. The engine whistle stopped, and a massive bolt of fire leapt from the machine's barrel. It plunged into the wall. Shrapnel pelted those behind it, and magma burned the people inside. A breach had been made! The Waal's footsteps, squishing over the gore of their fallen comrades and enemies, matched their chorus. Some soldiers crashed their weapons upon the stone surrounding them, which formed an ending note to the chant.
The engine's whistle blew again as another firey bolt flew from the cannon's mouth. Small brass spiders poured out from the back and ripped the zombies and live men that were attempting to cut it down. The Alliance had nearly lost the fight!
Droll's fanged grin cut into an Alliance soldier's mind while Jauffrey's axe dug into his neck. He ripped his axe from the poor man's flesh, taking a pound with it. "Help!" yelled one of his brethren, "Help! He's too good!" A heavily armored soldier cried as he barely fought off the strikes of a particularly fervent soldier.
Droll charged forward, and raised his axe during the sprint. With the full force of his body, he brought the axe down. The fighting soldier disappeared into mist as his axe plunged into one of his brethren's bare back. His armor had been torn apart, and he was picking a cuirass off of an enemy. He cried out, and fell to the floor with Jauffrey's axe stuck inside of him. Droll pivoted towards the Waal who had tricked him, only to find a smiling Tark and a hand full of fire.
Droll rolled out of the way, narrowly avoiding the ball. It struck someone else, whose sweat boiled in their own suit of armor. Droll pulled his dagger, and charged again. The mage cried out, and a Jorl in leather armor leapt from one of the walls. He brought Droll to the ground, and shoved a dagger into his throat. "Courtesy of the Red Falcon, scum," the thief smiled and held Droll's dagger hand to the ground.
A hammer crashed down the wall behind them, and a heavily armored brute lumbered out of the hole. "Are we on?" a Drek, bandaged up to the mouth, asked.
The massive brute grinned, "I do think we are. Let's go!" The team charged into the thick of it. They needed to clear out some of the Waal if they had any chance of evacuating the higher command of the castle. It was obviously lost, but they had to cut their losses. The Tark slapped the thief on the shoulder, "You could have helped out sooner, you fool!"
"You know me, Charles. I gotta come in at the last moment-" the Drek, attempting to keep order within the chaos, futily attempted to punch his dodgy companion. As the thief ducked under his arm, he spotted a heavily armored Waal running towards them. His sword, high above his head, glimmered in the sun's fiery rays. With adept accuracy, the Thief drew and threw one of his many knives into his eye, and he collapsed to the ground.
"We have a job to do; let's get to the tower before any of us die," The Drek told them. Blue, glowing eyes turned to a late Waal pulling themselves over the wall. He drew his bow and with a sweeping motion, sent an arrow into one of the mongerl's neck.
"Mercenaries! Get them!" a pack leader commanded. The Drek notched another arrow as the Brute took point. The thief tapped the Tark's shoulder. He recited an incantation, and the thief was rendered invisible. 
"Jackson, don't let them get close to me or Charles," The Drek told the massive man in front. His arrow's whistle plunged into another Waal neck.
Jackson nodded in agreement before hoisting up his abnormally meaty arms. His battle cry was filled with glee as he grabbed a Waal by the head to throw him into the oncoming crowd. A majority of the soldiers inside the castle began their assault on the mercenaries, after the Alliance members were thinned. The thief continued on the original mission while his companions took the majority of the heat.
The innards of the castle were full of Waal, and the last of the Alliance's soldiers were attempting to protect the administration. The brutish soldiers were too content with the butchering of their felled enemies to care about the fluctuating air that glided smoothly and quietly in the halls. If the circumstances weren't so dire, Jerome might have attempted to convince the winning soldiers that he was a castle ghost, seeking to rid the invaders of his home. Whenever he had spotted a soldier on their own defiling a corpse, the Thief was happy to slit their throat.
The plan should have gone smoothly. Jerome was to scout and secure a pathway to the head advisors should the defense go wrong. Jackson and Artemis, the Drek, were supposed to escort Charles to the high command once things started to go out of proportion. Then Charles would teleport all of them out. What they hadn't anticipated was the speed of the Waal in their attack. The entire support team was caught off-guard, until one of the soldiers came screaming into their quarters that the Waal had broken through both layers of armaments.
Jerome thought over what was the best course of action. Maybe he should have stayed with Jackson and Artemis, to help with the defense? He cursed the lack of training the Alliance gave to its soldiers, it was nothing compared to the lifetime of training a Waal was given. "Since birth, you are a soldier," was practically their **** religion, and his Alliance team members were yellow-bellied and fresh to the artistry of war. The high command and captains were the only soldiers worth a single ****, and even then their experience was the only thing that matched the Waal.
Jerome noted twenty soldiers searching for the high command, and examined the best way to kill them all. Trying his best to be quiet, he checked his many pockets and satchels for the correct equipment for the job. Finally finding the proper gas bomb, he licked a small clear pod and threw it forward into the center of the group. Green gas crept up through the air. Three of them managed to escape the sudden cloud, their eyes bloodshot and fit to pop. Feeling no remorse for the deaths he'd caused, the Thief took a knife and plucked the eyes from their skulls.
Jackson threw his fist forward into a wall's armored head. Both skull and white-steel helmet were crushed under his massive fist. He grabbed the limp, heavy body and threw it into another as if it was a pillow. Artemis tried to keep the flow of enemies relatively low while the entire convoy moved slowly towards the castle doors. They needed a distraction, or else their position would be overrun by the remaining forces in seconds. Charles tapped his Seer stone, hoping to contact Jerome.
The Thief acknowledged his pleas, but was unable to converse with him. Another body hit the floor in front of his feet and the high command was secure. Finally finding the proper time to communicate, he tapped his stone, "What's the situation?"
"We need a distraction, now."
"Got it."
Jerome saluted to the high officers, and whispered something under his breath. Blue-white mist circled upward from his clothes and skin as his visibility returned. The officers drew their swords. With respect and grace, the Thief bowed. "The Red Falcon's servant is here to serve, sir,"
The captains sighed in unison, and happily accepted the leatherbound rogue. "One of the finest too, I'm sure!"
"If my team is to get you out of here alive, I need to make a distraction."
"What? You mean you're leaving us right after you-"
"Does this castle have any explosives? Gunpowder?"
"I don't suppose you're accustomed to Alliance architecture, but you should notice that we're not dwarves," the captain scowled at the mercenary.
"This used to be a mine, right? Do you have any explosives?" the Red Falcon's servant was becoming agitated. His legs were constantly moving back and forth, like he shouldn't' be there.
"There might be some mining TNT in the basement-"
"It'll have to do. I barricaded a few key points to throw them off the search. Jackson should be able to break through them easily enough though," Jerome rose two fingers to his forehead before lazily throwing them off into the distance. Before one of the officers could further protest, he sped down the halls. With a lack of invisibility, his mission was going to get far more dangerous. The Waal wouldn't be sitting ducks anymore- their ravenous bloodlust was going to be upon him soon.
---
"****!" Jackson cried, nearly stumbling to the castle's floor. Artemis grabbed him by his arm, and struggled to act as a support for Jackson to stand.
"By Drekonan, why do half-giants have to be so **** heavy?" he mumbled. Jackson furrowed his brow and ripped his arm from the tiny man's grasp. Charles knelt to examine his wounded companion. He cast a spell over the wound, and the pain was numbed.
"It feels better, but it's still bleeding," Jackson said, disappointed.
"I'm not an agent of the Dae, I can't do forbidden Magics," Charles explained. He searched through his robe pockets and did his best to wrap the wound in bandages. Artemis looked at the wound and shivered.
"What's the matter, crotchrot? Afraid of looking at other people's wounds?" Jackson chuckled. Artemis' brow furrowed as his eyes glowed a brighter shade of blue. Before he could speak or perform an act of violence, the castle's side door began to curve. "They're starting to break through," Jackson began moving backward, readying his bloodied fists. The Drek notched an arrow, and Charles began running in the opposite direction.
"Not enough time to kill them, we need to get out now!" he called back at his companions. The two met eye contact, and with a simple nod, they disbanded their racial tension for the adrenaline-filled exodus. The halls reverberated with a rhythm and a beat, and the trio realized the vivid possibility of death. Musical roars of bloodthirsty fervor echoed and pounded the walls. The war chants had risen again from the gullets of bloodthirsty men.
The trio burst through doors and rushed towards nooks and crannies to get past the barricades Jerome had set. Traps laid by the servant of the Red Falcon exploded, and small lapses in the enemy's war chant broke the steady beat of weapons and feet. Just before finding the captain's quarters, a trap misfired. The three mercenaries flew backward and fell onto their backs as a pillar of wood and cobblestone dropped onto the stairwell leading to the captains' tower.
Jackson instantly leapt to his feet. The shooting pain of his ripping wound only served to anger him, and he worked upon driving the pillar out of the way. The chant grew nearer, and the Drek dived into the thick of the cave-in, doing his best to remove the cobbles and free the pillar enough to let Jackson move it himself. Three Waal turned the corner. Charles clasped his hands together and chanted a forgotten language. The red and green brutes' steps outmatched that of a wildcat.
He thrust his hands forward, and the two Waal felt their bodies and spirits move from the incredible force. Their armored feet skidded and the ground until they fell over. A translucent blue bubble separated them from the trio. "**** magicians and their shields!" the Waal yelled. He raised his fist and drove the full force of his body into the bubble. It bended and dipped, and for a moment it seemed fit to burst. Charles' forehead perspired and he felt his focus dropping.
"Is that **** thing gone yet?" He yelled at his friends. More Waal arrived chanting dreadful songs. Swords and hammers began to pound Charles' shield, and his frontal lobes began to pulse with pain. The bubble tried to pulse back, but the seams of the light began to tear. Mist raised into the now several dozen Waal. Charles closed his eyes, and prepared himself for what he wished wasn't going to happen so soon.
Thoom. The steam engine had shot! The Waal hesitated, allowing the shield to slowly dissipate under their combined weight. A fiery explosion akin to attacking the castle shocked the air in the distance, but the shot seemed to have missed entirely. Confusion began to subside in the soldiers before they continued their chanting assault.
Boom. The air shook with wrath. Shoom. Steam bellowed out of a new machine carcass. The Waal suddenly realized- the steam engine was in danger. They needed to make sure it was not destroyed completely- if it was, then the Dwarves would have the entire army killed.  All but the dozen Waal on Charles' fading shield rushed outside.
Jackson heaved, and with Artemis' combined strength, they both managed to rip the pillar from its resting place. Charles' mind faded and his head rushed with blood. Turning around, Jackson grabbed his companion and threw him over his shoulder. The Waal fell over one another as the shield broke, but their fervor allowed them to rise from the floor with ease. Artemis fired an arrow into one of their throats before opening the door and entering.
Thirteen swords from captains drew in an instant and pointed towards the newcomers. Jackson threw the door shut. "We've got no time for bull****, the Mage is here to bring all of you out of here," he set Charles down and began pushing forward on the opening door.
"We'll have your heads on pikes, mercenaries!"
Charles began his incantation, throwing the last few bits of his focus into making a portal to a far off part of the world. Artemis agitatedly readied his bow, "What about Jerome?"
"He'll have to get away on his own. The kid's fast, I'm sure he can."
"He'll be a hero to the Alliance. I'll see to it that he be given a memorial, dead or alive," the captain readied his sword in case the portal wasn't made in time. An axe pierced through the wooden door, narrowly missing Jackson's head.
The air around them fluxed inward, and a portal pulled itself forward. The captains rushed inward, but the trio stayed behind. With the rest of his focus gone, Charles collapsed under the exhaustion of his mind and willpower. With the thud on the floor, the portal closed. Artemis whistled an arrow into a growling Waal's forehead as he peeked into the room. Another axe plunged into the wooden door, and Jackson was forced to let go.
The half-giant threw his fist into another Waal head, crushing it instantly. Artemis pulled his dagger and plunged it into a greenskinned beast's throat. One of the opposing soldiers brought a great claymore upon his brethren's dead body, which cleaved through and into Artemis' rotting skull. The glowing blue light from his eyes dissipated with his soul. Jackson grabbed the swordsman by the shoulders and threw him into one of his companions.
"You *******s!" he roared. A dagger plunged into his chest, and his voice shook the timbers. His fist grew redder with every blow he dealt to the Waal, but reinforcements had arrived. Under a heap of green bodies and metal, Jackson died in rage over the death of his comrade.

WE WERE IN THE WAY OF MODERATION TOGETHER, DUDE |:C

That was sarcasm!

I don't quiiite have the time to read your story now, but the picture is teh prettiez. Or something along those lines.

Welp, I guess I'll post another story no one's going to read.

Woot woooot

Boom. Another explosion rocked the city as Lord Wallace flew above the wooden buildings below him. His shining blacksteel armor crashed into a the home of a young woman, and his body laid flatly on its back while she took her shower. Jauffrey, straining his stubbly legs, rushed into the room. “Sorry Ma’am,” the pudgy squire said as his cheeks began to redden. Fire plumed in the distance as the Balrog of Cottonwood Cave continued its rampage.
Jauffrey knelt on his knee and set his bag next to him. The bag stood nearly twice as tall as him, and spread nearly the entirety of his width. Jauffrey’s meaty hands began to examine the bag. Finding an arrangement of herbs and oils, Jauffrey set them aside and carefully pulled back his Knight’s faceplate.
The girl, behind her waterproofed shower curtains, looked intently to see what the pudgy squire was trying to do. He poured some oil on his hands, and sprinkled the herbs onto the oil. He rubbed them together for a few short seconds and rubbed Lord Walalce’s face with them. His near-dead expression had reformed life, and his muscles tensed under his heavy armor.
“By the lords of man!” Lord Wallace gasped. Wallace’s eyes darted about before finding Jauffrey. “Oh, good to know that I’m safe!” His eyes blurrily traced around the room until he met the gaze of the woman. His pupils dilated as she saw her, and he remembered the gusto in his soul. His legs pushed against the force of gravity, and Wallace threw himself to his feet. “Jauffrey!”
“Yes, sir?”
“Who am I?” Lord Wallace’s cleft chin burst forward as his gleaming white teeth shined forward onto the Balrog.
Jauffrey hesitated before answering, “Lord Wallace III?”
“No,” Wallace’s voice trailed before winking at the naked woman near him, “I am Sir Lord Wallace III, Thane of Cherryshire, Champion of Cottonwoo-“
“Get out and slay the Balrog, knight!” the young woman shrieked, fearing for her townspeople.
Wallace turned to her with a raised eyebrow, “Don’t interrupt- it’s rude. Now I have to start all over again.”
“I am Sir Lord Wallace III, Thane of Cherryshire, Champion of Cottonwoo-“
“Get out there before I kill it myself!” the woman shouted again.
Angered, Lord Wallace threw his open hand out to Jauffrey, “Jauffrey, sword!” Nearly instantly, a shiny steel sword was placed in the knight’s blacksteel gauntlet. “Come now Jauffrey, there are monsters to slay and women to lay!” He leaped out of the hole in the side of the building. As he landed from the second story, he stumbled, nearly falling. Jauffrey hefted the massive bag upon his back and took the stairs, breathing heavily with very step.
“Yes sir, monsters to kill and women to feel.”
The Balrog began making a new fiery throne out of the wreckage of buildings. It figured that a throne would be the best place to start in order to make this place a presentable home. Burning houses and villagers weren’t impressive at all to the other greater demons- but a throne made of burning houses and villagers? That would be something to talk about!
Its fist, larger than a train and pouring out fire, pounded into the hay ceiling of another hovel, instantly crushing it. The Balrog giggled in glee as he used the local nursery home as a suiting foundation for the glorious seat. Just as he was about to adorn the new home to his creation, an annoying voice called out from nearly fifty feet below him.
“Balrog! You didn’t think you could defeat me so easily, did you?” Lord Wallace yelled, his sword at the ready. The knight charged at the beast’s feet, hoping to avoid another one of the demon’s devastating flicks. The beast reared up its hoofed leg, and threw it downward. Cobbles from the road uprooted and were thrown upward, along with Lord Wallace. He lost his step and flew upward and forward, hitting and skidding upon the road on the way to the Balrog.
Meanwhile, Jauffrey searched about the town looking for a proper weapon to defeat the Balrog. Sweat permeated his brow, until he found a heap of metal and wood. Throwing down his pack, he cracked his fat knuckles and began to set up the town’s saving grace.
Meanwhile, Lord Wallace threw his hand forward, hoping to grab onto something so he could help himself up, “Villain! No fair!” Rolling onto his side, he pushed himself off the ground. The Balrog continued to chuckle at the mortal. Fire and brimstone came from its mouth as the chuckle developed into a laugh. Lord Wallace readied his sword, and leapt onto the beast’s hoof. “Have at thee, demon!” The Balrog raised its foot so it could see what the puny human was trying to do. Seeing the little black speck wrapped around its leg, it thrust the hoof downward again.
Another crash, and more cobbles flew into the air. Still, Wallace’s death grip was stronger. The Balrog searched for a nearby piece of destroyed wood to scrape him off with, but none were quite big enough. Wallace gained his balance and stabbed the beast’s ankle. The pinprick angered the beast, and it began to kick the air. Wallace continued to hold on, desperate to retain his rudimentary power of the beast. Finally, the beast stomped the ground once again.
Suddenly, in the far off city of Derkasburg, an earthquake tore down a single house. Scholars and magicians would later find out this was due to seismic activity in the nearby town, Cottonwood. But that is mostly unrelated to the combat at hand.
The Balrog felt nothing for a short while, and assumed Lord Wallace to be gone. Then, by the miniscule hairs of his legs, he felt a tingling crawling rise. The demon’s anger began to grow, and it started sweeping its hands downward to brush the knight off. Even still, the herbs Jauffrey used on Lord Wallace enhanced his strength and agility, allowing him to dodge the many attempts the Balrog made.
Finally, Lord Wallace leapt onto its hips, and made a speedy climb behind its shoulders. He began stabbing into its trapezius, aggressively trying to sever the demon’s inexistent spine. The demon’s beefy arms were unable to reach between its shoulderblades, and the Knight was safe.
Jauffrey looped one edge of his cable to the other edge of his makeshift ballista. He placed a piece of debris into the contraption and aimed it at the Balrog’s chest, hoping to strike it in its only vulnerable spot- the heart. He lifted his fingers and made a square around the beast, trying his best to adjust and target against the thing.
The Balrog roared, before realizing that he could drop himself onto his back to take care of the man. As the idea struck, Lord Wallace threw his sword high into the air, readying to stab into the beast’s spine. Just as it made contact with the Balrog, and just as it raised its chest upward to the sky, Jauffrey’s sharp debris flew forward and pierced the Balrog’s chest, instantly killing it.
The beast staggered back, nearly falling. Realizing this, Wallace had one of three options, climb up onto the beast’s shoulders and hope that it doesn’t fall so hard that he can’t save himself from the fall, let the beast fall backward onto him, thus killing him instantly and ending the pain quickly, or drop from the beast’s back and hopefully not get crushed. In an impulsive decision, Lord Wallace leapt onto the beast’s shoulders, and cut a massive ribbon from the beast’s neck. It lumbered, and began to fall, Wallace threw the skin ribbon into the air, with a hand on both ends.
It did not parachute his fall, and besides the Demon’s crater was a slightly smaller, Lord Wallace sized crater. Jauffrey ran to his knight, ecstatic over his fantastic kill along with their amazing teamwork. The few townsfolk that were alive gathered around the scene, weary and terrified. Lord Wallace lifted his face plate upward, and coughed up a spillet of blood. His eyes darted around, until they finally met the rotund face of Jauffrey.
“Oh,” he closed his eyes, wearily, “Good to know I’m safe!”
Jauffrey offered his hand, and Lord Wallace pulled himself up from the anchor of a man. Lord Wallace looked at the townsfolk before throwing his arms upward, “The Balrog of Cottonwood Cave is dead!” Instantly, the remaining townsfolk cheered. Even the young showering woman was cheering, happy that her town and parents were saved. With heroic gusto, Wallace’s arms flew downward into an incredibly inappropriate crotch-chop.
“What is your name, Sir Knight?” the town’s mayor stepped forward, his scraggly muscles paling in comparison to the thickness of Wallace’s armor.
“My name,” Wallace stood with his chest forward, his chin high, and his fists on his hips. He stood in silence, waiting for Jauffrey to get his cue.
“Yes, your name,” the mayor continued. Wallace’s gauntleted hand lightly slapped his brown-dressed squire.
“Oh!” Jauffrey scrambled to take off his friend’s helmet.
“My name is Sir Lord Wallace III, Slayer of Balrogs, Thane of Cottonshire, Champion of Cherrywood, Murderer of Giant Rats, Exterminator of Lesser Rats, Subscriber to Cleft Chin Magazine,” as he continued his list of titles that no one called him by, townspeople walked away. By the time the sun struck the horizon, only three people remained in the crowd. “…Master Craftsman of Spaghetti Sauce, and finally, Layer of Women!”
The Mayor chuckled, “My, what a long list!” He thrust his hand forward, and Wallace grabbed it in a manly handshake. “How did you manage to defeat the thing?”
Lord Wallace threw his armored finger into the air, “I knew its one true weakness-“ his jowels tensed and smirked so hard, he gained the title ‘Master of Smugness’, “a sword!”
The Mayor heartily laughed at the obvious bafoon, before patting him on the shoulder. “Good, son, good! Follow me, I have to tell you about something,” The Mayor began to lead them forward towards the town hall.
“But, Sir,” Jauffrey began, “you didn’t kill the-“
“Shush, Jauffrey. The big boys are talking now,” Lord Wallace shooshed his companion, continuing the walk his toothy smile. Jauffrey angrily whispered, “but I killed the Balrog! With a ballista!”
“One second, Mayor,” Wallace stopped the Mayor and walked back to Jauffrey. “What ballista?”
Jauffrey angrily pointed to the recently made heap of metal and wood. In the middle of it was a cable. Jauffrey’s rotund chin fell. Lord Wallace chuckled and patted his companion on the shoulder, “It’s ok, friend. One day you’ll become a great and powerful knight, nearly as perfect as me! But for now-“ Wallace lightly slapped his squire’s cheek, and internally giggled at the wave it made across his flesh. “-You’ll have to carry my things,” Wallace turned again and went with the Mayor.
Jauffrey stood, completely baffled. “It must have broken after the first shot-“ in place of rage, tears bubbled in his gut. “But-“ His chin contorted and compressed as rage culminated in his heart. He looked at the dead Balrog behind him. Even on the floor, its chest was nearly as tall as the little Squire. “But-“ Jauffrey’s fists clenched, until he punched the beast. His fist crunched against the impact, and instantly Jauffrey was doing the dance of pain.
Finding defeat, he looked at his walking master, “yes, sir,” he groaned before picking up the massive backpack.

+++

The mayor raised his dagger high in the air, and threw it downward onto a map. “There,” he told Wallace, “is where the dragon has been coming from.” Wallace rubbed his chin. Torch light glimmered in his beautiful golden mane.
“A dragon, eh?”
“That’s what I just said,” The Mayor thought this idiot would be a sufficient sacrifice for the region’s safety for another hundred years. The mayors of the nearby villages and towns rued finding someone to sacrifice to the dragon, since it refused to take their homeless.
“And how much will I be getting?”
“You’ll get your own castle, thirty thousand gold, and the hand of my daughter,” The Mayor pointed to a painting of a beautiful brown-haired maiden on the all.
“In marriage?”
The mayor hesitated before shrugging, “Eh, sure.” Lord Wallace smiled, and held out his hand. Locking eyes, the two men shook each other’s limbs about. “Glad to have you aboard, Sir Lord Wallace III!”
“Slayer of Bal-“
“I’m not continuing that list.”
Lord Wallace stepped outside the Mayor’s office, and nodded to Jauffrey, “We have a new job!” Jauffrey rolled his eyes before standing.
“What might that be, sir?” his nasally voice quoth.
“We’re going to kill,” Wallace’s toothy grin returned as he heroically posed. Awkward silence crept across them.
“Kill…?” Jauffrey tried to question. Wallace nodded to the bag, and his dominant hand’s fingers began to wiggle, trying to grasp onto something. Jauffrey sighed, and found a sword in the massive backpack. He placed it in his Lord’s hand, who instantly threw it upward and into the wooden ceiling, nearly cutting into a lusty couple’s hiding spot.
“A dragon!” he yelled. Jauffrey’s pupils dilated, and he forced himself to swallow the spit in his mouth. “We leave in the morning for the location on my map, until then we get free food and rest here in any town inn. Good deal, right Jauffers?”
Jauffrey’s frown nearly slid off his face. “A-“ he stuttered, “A-a-a dr-dragon?” The beasts were the most deadly things the lands of Arthereum had ever known.
“Yes, Jauffrey! A dr-dr-dragon!” Wallace mocked. He helped throw the backpack onto him, and began strutting outside the door.
In his defeat, Jauffrey sighed, “Yes, sir.”

Two days later

“We’re here!” Wallace yelled from atop Jauffrey’s back. Recently added to their arsenal and Jauffrey’s back pain was a full camping set, a wooden treasure chest filled with cannonballs, a cannon, a saddle, a donkey for which the saddle was meant for, and thirteen lead swords. He leapt off, and landed in front of the cave entrance. The growling of a Pit Lord dragon could be heard from within.
“Good, sir,” Jauffrey mumbled, throwing the several tons of equipment to the side. The donkey stood on its four legs, and shook its body. Bits of dust flew from its unused muscles.
“Sword!” He commanded. A hilt soon came into contact with his palm, and he waved Jauffrey to bring the cannon. His tired legs forced themselves to load and pull the cannon into the cave.
“Sir, why couldn’t we have used the donkey for at least the backpack?” Jauffrey complained, quietly.
Wallace stopped, and groaned, “Jauffrey do I really have to explain this again?” Turning around, he put his hand in his palm, “If we use the donkey to carry things, he’ll get tired. If the donkey gets tired, it won’t do anything. If the donkey doesn’t do anything, then we took a donkey with us for nothing!”
Jauffrey’s mouth went agape as he attempted to process what was just said. “But if we-“
“Hush Jauffrey,” Wallace put his finger to his lips, “There are monsters to slay and women to lay. Now let’s go.”
Jauffrey tried to keep in his frustrated screams. Feeling defeated once again, Jauffrey forced out the words, “Monsters to kill and women to feel, yes.” The long hauling process of the cannon had started once again. The Pit Lord’s fire burst out from the cave entrance, and nearly washed over the duo. Terrified, the leather-clad squire hid behind the lead cannon. Wallace, with lead sword in hand, pointed it at the dragon. “Vile Dragon! I know your one true weakness!”
The dragon chuckled from the darkness and stepped forward. It towered high above the duo, and nearly touched the cavernous ceiling. “What might that be, pitiful mortal?”
“Swords!” Wallace yelled, chucking his lead sword at the dragon. It struck the mighty beast in the eye, and it cowered back into the cave. “Now, Jauffrey!”
Jauffrey pulled on the cannon’s ignition cord, and a massive cannonball flew into the Dragon’s jaw, ripping out a tooth. The Dragon began cursing in its native tongue while Jauffrey ran for the backpack he’d forgotten at the cave entrance. Lord Wallace loaded the cannon again, and fired another cannonball at the dragon’s face, knocking out another tooth.
The Dragon’s attention focused on Wallace, and it roared with fire. Flames danced around the duo. The both of them would have been scorched from the Earth, but Jauffrey had thrown a rune onto Wallace’s back chestplate. The backpack burned away, leaving behind the lead swords. The Dragon laughed at the resistance the duo had put up for him, and assumed them both to be dead before the smoke could clear out of the cavern.
However, one after the other, Wallace threw lead sword after lead sword into the Dragon’s thick hide. Finally, with one sword left, Wallace ran from the smoke and cut into the Dragon’s unsuspecting underbelly. Guts fell in a trail behind Wallace, until the dragon no longer had the strength to hold itself up. The smoke instantly cleared with the shockwave, and Wallace climbed onto its back, popping out one of its massive eyes for proof of its death.
“Jauffrey! Jauffrey I did it!” He yelled out, excitedly. Having not seen his burnt companion, he cheered for his own victory. Leaving the cannon and the kill behind, he carried the massive eye on his back. He dashed to the cave entrance, happy towards the life he’d soon have with his dearest companion. “Come now Jauffrey, though we won’t need to find monsters to slay, we shall have plenty of women to lay!”
Jauffrey’s mouth chafed and tried to respond, but nothing could come from his burning lungs. His blood sizzled along with his hair and eyelashes. Wallace realized this, and ran to him with unseen speed. He knelt over him, and threw his helmet off. “Jauffrey!” He cried.
Jauffrey pointed to the backpack, which was losing its last bits of fire. “Herbs-“ he choked, “herbs.”
“You need herbs?”
Jauffrey nodded, wishing that he could cry or scream or die. “Red,” he choked again. With tears in his eyes, he searched through the remains of the backpack. He found a jar of oil, still boiling, a jar of herbs, burnt to ashes, a magic potion for curing erectile dysfunction, and a bottle of hair care product that managed to not be melted in the unholy fires. Desperately, Wallace spread bits of red herbs that survived the fire and brought them to Jauffrey. There was only but a pinch.
Jauffrey looked at it, and closed his eyes. Wallace continued to make that statement him and Jauffrey had shared since they were children, “Monsters to slay- women to lay-“ but it wasn’t working. “Jauffrey!” He softly held him by the shoulders, “Jauffrey get up! Jauffrey!” Tears sizzled on Jauffrey’s blackened skin as they fell from above. “Jauffrey no! Jauffrey!” In a cavalcade of fear and sadness, Wallace spread the red herbs on his dead friends’ face. “Jauffrey get up- please! I need you Jauffrey!”
As Wallace knelt by his only true friends’ corpse, he realized that their childhood friendship might never return. “I swear, on all that I own and all that I will ever own,” Wallace gritted his perfect white teeth together, “we will have that friendship lost to our childhood.”

PART 2

A brown cloaked figure crept its way into the local tavern. Drenched in fresh rain, the figure shook its body, sending droplets throughout the pub. The bar itself was empty- fishermen laughed and chatted about voyages they’ve barely survived and sea monsters they’d killed, a group of adventurers talked and dreamt about how positively rich they were going to be after this next dungeon. Lastly, there was the bartender, tending the bar counter. The cloaked man pulled back his soaking hood to reveal cold, dirty yellow-brown hair. Stubble permeated his chin, and sadness poured out of his eyes more than the clouds poured rain.
Calmly and slowly the figure walked to the bar counter. The massive fluctuation of vibe had caused the room to go silent as he sat upon the bar. The bartender, old and withered, prepared an ale for the man.
“I never asked for ale,” the cloaked one said.
“On the house, stranger,” the bartender’s aging voice was like warm honey to the ears. “Besides, you look like you could need it,” the middle-aged beer jockey presented the pint, and the stranger gulped it down. His white teeth glistened as the liquid streamed down his gullet. “What’s the name, if you don’t mind me asking?” the bartender asked. He selected a clean cloth and a clean pint under the bar to begin cleaning.
The stranger closed his eyes, “Good ale.”
“I see,” the bartender’s lips began to furrow as the stranger’s words disappointed him. “The names Gerald, good to meet you.”
“Wallace,” the stranger said, gulping down the remainder of his pint.
The bartender thought for a moment, and his eyes widened. “Wallace?” he dropped the pint he was holding, and it shattered. The cloth had snapped in half, too. “You mean, Sir Lord Wallace, Slayer of Balrogs, Master Craftsman of Spaghetti Sauce-“
“Please don’t finish the list,” Wallace’s eyes grew darker, “another ale, please.”
“Sure, I’ll put it on a tab- didn’t expect to see your face so worn for wear!” Gerald said, pouring another glass. He ignored the shattered remains of a forgotten pint. This was currently far too important. The rest of the meager pub began to listen in on this point, and everything was still. “What brings you back to Cottonwood? It’s been three years!”
“I’ve embarked on a quest since I killed the dragon threatening this place-“
“Wait,” the bartender raised his hand in front of him, “What dragon?”
Wallace’s chin compressed together as he tried to hold in angry screams. Thankfully it worked, and composure came over him again, “That’s another thing on the ‘List of Things Jauffrey was Right About’.” He sighed, and leaned over the bar. He grabbed the other ale, and instantly began chugging it down. “I’ve been on a quest, and I’m leaning that it might be time that I gave up.”
“A quest? Has some maiden been trapped in a tower?”
“No.”
“Another dragon threatening the land?”
“No.”
“An army on the run from Sir Lord Wallace III?”
“No.”
“Or is it-“
“I’m trying to best death,” Wallace took another heavy drink, and handed the pint back. “More.”
An adventurer piped up, “I’m trying to best death too! My friends here don’t believe me, but I’ve discovered a treasure map that’ll lead directly to the fountain of youth!” The adventurer was young, and proud of his find. “I ain’t never gonna die, not if I can help it.”
Wallace chuckled at the young man’s exuberance and naivety. “I am not trying to cheat death. I simply want to best him,” Gerald offered another drink, and Wallace took it. His mood lightened, as did his eyes. “I lost my squire, Jauffrey. Just before he left this world, I told him that we’d have our friendship from when we were children once again.” The pub grew silent, preparing for an epic story from an epic hero.
“Me and Jauffrey, we were inseparable as children. We were brothers- both adopted by a Lord in the southern provinces. The Lord was infertile, and thus could give no children. Instead, he had us,” Wallace sipped his drink. “The Lord wanted to inspire us both to become great, so he told us that he’d indict one of us to be a Knight, whichever of us proved their worth. The other would become squire to the Knight. We both happily agreed, knowing that we’d be able to go on the adventures we always dreamt and played with in the castle courtyard.”
“In those days, we’d always be fighting a dragon or a crew of bandits or some unholy demon together. One time,” Wallace chuckled lightly, “one time Jauffrey pretended to be the bandit chief, while ‘Jauffrey’ was captured. He wiped the floor with me! He was so much smarter, and stronger and-“ Wallace sighed, and sniffled. “Then I got lucky. When it was time for the competition, things malfunctioned for the both of us- for my benefit, and for his detriment.”
“Jauffrey really should have been the one to be knighted- but I was the one. I made him carry my things, and would always steal the women that were coming onto him. I didn’t service him as a friend anymore, because he was just a squire to me.”
“When it came to kill the dragon that apparently didn’t need to be killed, Jauffrey threw a rune down at my feet, protecting me from the beast’s hellish fire,” A single tear fell from his right eye, “he didn’t save himself. I treated him horribly- and he saved me.” He paused, and struggled to inhale, “instead of him.”
“Yes, I think that’s a safe assumption,” Gerald interrupted. Wallace ignored him.
“So I swore to him, that no matter what, I’d bring him back, so he and I could tell him that I was sorry- that I didn’t know I was hurting him before.”
“That’s a very noble cause, Sir Lord Wallace III,” the beer jockey stated. He smiled dimly, “but I hate to say that no one can best death.”
“Except for me!” the young adventurer piped in, not disheartened by Sir Lord Wallace’s story. His friends quickly apprehended him, and they continued on their conversation on whether or not aliens could exist.
“I’m beginning to realize that,” Wallace said, drinking another half of the pint. He was starting to feel a slight buzz. “No matter how hard I try, I’ll never be able to complete another quest without Jauffrey,” Wallace hung his head. Trying his best not to cry, he finished the pint.
A cloaked figure, hidden in Wallace’s blind spot, tapped his shoulder. “This is untrue, friend,” it told him. “I know someone very powerful, very eldritch, very…” his voice trailed off, “important. He can help you, your quest may have just ended.”
Instantly, Wallace’s mind sobered and his head popped up from its slumping position. “What? Take me to him!” His hands quickly jutted forward to grip the mysterious man’s shoulders. “I need to see him- I need to bring back Jauffrey!”
“Okay, okay buddy. Let’s go,” the mysterious man strode smoothly out into the rain, and Wallace dashed on after him, quickly throwing his hood up.
Shocked silence struck the pub before Gerald broke it like the neglected pint below him, “Hey, anyone think he’s going to pay for his tab?” The continuing silence told him no.

+++

“Step into the circle, and my Master will communicate to you through me,” the cloaked man told Wallace. Wallace was apprehensive, and hesitant to step into the focusing circle.
“Explain to me what we’re doing again,” Wallace commanded.
“The blue sand that makes the focusing circle is the necessary ingredient for the deal we’re going to make. Once you’re standing in the circle, we can bring back Jauffrey- flesh, blood, soul and all! He won’t be undead like a zombie- he’ll be alive!”
“Right, and we do this by…?”
“Making a deal with my Master. After knowing your cause, he’ll be fine with making the deal. Expect a high price, however.”
“I would pay all the riches in the world to see Jauffrey just one more time!” Wallace proclaimed, gallantly stepping into the focusing circle. The cloaked magician nodded, and began his incantation. The circle was composed of four sections- each representing a layer of the soul. There were several lines connecting the four shells together, but one line went directly from the center- Wallace- to another, smaller circle outside of the soul shells. In this circle, the magician stood. As the incantation was recited, the blue sand began to glow and evaporate, until all that was left was a light-giving blue dim mist on the ground. The magician’s eyes glowed a marvelous bright sky blue, and as he spoke blue light poured out from his mouth.
“Servant Magician Archibald, why have you summoned me?” a voice boomed through Archibald’s mouth, and shook the foundations of his home. In the nearby town of Derkasburg, once again a house fell down due to seismic activity caused from a chain reaction.
“He has summoned you for me!” Wallace declared, placing his fists on his hips and his chin high.
“Puny mortal, what do you seek from the Lord of the Void?” The Eldritch God’s voice boomed in Wallace’s spirit, and he felt difficulty keeping composure.
“I have come for the soul and life’s blood of my dearest companion and friend, Jauffrey!”
The Lord of the Void hesitated, and a misty blue figure of Jauffrey’s body appeared in the room, “Is this the soul of the one you seek?”
Wallace’s old glimmer of adventure and inspiration returned to his face. “Yes! Yes the very same, bring him to me- please!”
“The deal: the ultimate price must be paid for your friend.”
“Anything! Just bring him back,” Wallace’s head shook under his adrenaline, “Now! Bring him back now!”
The Lord of the Void’s laughter shattered the home’s windows, and rain poured in. The sand began to wither away, there would be no way to reverse the deal. “Then the deal has been struck,” the voice roared before disappearing into the eldritch dimensions from which it came. The mist in the room swirled around the figure that appeared to be Jauffrey. It condensed, and gave off incredible light that blinded both the magician and Wallace. Jauffrey was reborn! His flesh was as pudgy as it was before, and his rosy cheeks shined once again in the dim lighting of the gloomy day.
For the first time in three years, Wallace smiled his adventurous, toothy smile. “Jauffrey!” He shouted, leaping for his long-lost companion. He embraced him, and tears began to flow down his face, “Jauffrey- it’s really you.”
Jauffrey confusedly mumbled, “Yes, sir.” His head explored the room and attempted to figure out where he was. Still confused from the happening, he questioned his master, “Where are we, sir?”
“Alive! You’re alive-“ Wallace pulled back from the embrace, and his shaking fingers prodded and tested to see if Jauffrey’s speaking had was in fact real. “My god, friend, I thought I’d never see you again, I-“ Suddenly, Wallace’s joints began to ache. Wallace groaned, and figured that the three years of alcoholism and searching for a wild goose had taken a harder toll on him than he expected. “I promise never to treat you like a squire again, you’re more than that, you’re-“ he delved into a coughing fit.
“Sir!” Jauffrey held the knight up. When he met eyes with Wallace again, his face had shown starting sets of wrinkles. The knight fell on his rump, and scratched his head. Gray hairs formed and began to fall out.
“What’s happening to me, wizard?” Wallace barked.
“What do you mean? You agreed to it. You’re a far more noble man than I-“
“Agreed to what?”
“You paid the ultimate price; the Lord of the Void gets your soul in exchange for another.”
“What?” Jauffrey shrieked. “No!”
“Yes I agree,” Wallace coughed, “No! No no, that isn’t how this was supposed to work-“
“I’m sorry- the rain is washing away the sand. The deal is sealed,” the magician shrugged, and began throwing towels and buckets down on the window sills. Wallace looked back at Jauffrey with graying hairs and dying eyes, and reached out for his hand.
“Jauffrey- I promised you that I’d give you that friendship we once had before we died. I want to let you know-“ Wallace coughed out red life force onto his hand. “I wanted to let you know that you should have won the knightship. I got lucky, I-“ Wallace’s voice became raspy. “I want you to know that you’re better than me, and you always will.”
They both stared at one another as Wallace’s life faded away. His voice, now old and nearly unrecognizeable, tried to restore their friendship in one last sentence: “Remember Jauffrey, there will always be more monsters to slay- and women to lay.”
Jauffrey, forcing back tears, held his brother’s torso upright, “Monsters to kill,” he brushed Wallace’s face and shut his eyelids, “and women to feel.” A long silence hid from under the pattering rain.
The Magician tapped Jauffrey on the soldier, “I’m sorry for your loss, but get out of my house.”
Jauffrey hesitated, and lifted the knight upon his back. He’d provide Sir Lord Wallace III one last piggyback ride after all.

I mean some people have a really funny way of introducing themselves...

Comments are disabled because horses deserve to be mistreated.

Everyone look at this pretty thing I made!

Oh no! a double post!

I am not a poet
and I'm pretty sure you know it,
because I can't rhyme
worth a dime
but now I gotta do't.

So I'll embark on a quest
with a fire in my chest
to find a rhyme
worth your time
and put this weakness to rest.

I will start with my pain,
or inspiration- eh, it's the same
to fuel my muse
and end y ruse
that my poems are totally lame.

Oh no oh gosh oh dear,
that didn't work I fear,
because now I'm pissed
and my muse is amiss
the end of my career is near..

This anger is starting to rule me,
but hark! perhaps it will school me,
to make angry writs
of throats I might slit,
should the ever come near me.

Yes! A muse I do have,
over the wretched Queen Mav,
Whose black widow spiders
and sweet dark desires
whose evil I've already had.

Yes! I could write up a storm,
over the feeligns I used to think warm,
but have yet to forget,
(Due to great regret),
and every day since I have sworn

From the bottom of my gullet
and the will to bite the bullet
I will go on
like a gallant fawn
and my life, I'm gonna live it.

~~~~~~~~~~

MORE ANGRY LIMERICKS:

screaming, terror, and pain.
To me, they all feel the same.
An insufferable prick
from a long poking stick
beckons my life, I should abstain.

--

Screams fill my ears
while I inhale and pull back tears
I don't have enough might
to stave off delight
as my head tears in half by the ears.

--

Mutilation is my dream
and however morbid it may seem,
I'll be pinned by a truck
with my insides quite stuck
In mechanical lights' great stream.

--

Anger and pain abound,
my body cries for a sound,
but my mouth is sewn shut
and my throat is quite cut,
though I pain to cry out loud.

Everyone look at this pretty thing I made!

It is interestingly but what is it? And were you on something when you were drawing it?