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The Way of Continuation

Posted Sep 23, '13 at 4:45pm

Salvidian

Salvidian

4,299 posts

I never had a nickname for the kid that gave me the shovel nickname. And it was high school I got that name...


I was going to go with 'high school', but the overall tone of the subject didn't fit well. So I ended up going with 'grade school' because it had a funnier tone and, hey, who doesn't have something permanent happen to them in grade school? All in all, it's just a minor detail and most casual readers will skim over it without a second thought.

YOU HAVE AWAKENED ME FROM MY SLUMBER!
(Actually, that was mostly my alarmclock, oh the ungodly hours to be awake)


I'm sorry, but who are you? I'm reading your name and 'Cenere' doesn't register at all. I mean, there was the prophet Cenere but he died after the Great Tournament, or at least there weren't any recorded sightings of him afterwards. But let me know if you see him sometime, okay?

So... Uh, prophets? Yeah, I am showing this to Strop.


Oh, OH! It is the prophet Cenere!

*Bows and prays*

By Newman, you must be who you say you are if you're in contact with the great Stroppity McHorseGuy! I plead for your forgiveness, ole ancient one.

*Bows and prays* (again)

It's nice to see a new generation keeping up the community spirit. The way of continuation indeed.


The Strop is among us!

*Bows and prays*

Hard to believe that in my lifetime I was fortunate to see both Cenere and Strop! Incredible! And your words will be revered, oh holy one.

Rock over London. Rock on Chicago. Diet Pepsi. Uh huh.


Words of wisdom!

But in all seriousness, it does my heart good to see that you two saw this. You guys did such a great job with the WoM and it seemed to leave everyone with such an empty feeling knowing that the long-awaited updates would cease to come. I don't have any humongous hopes of doing what you guys did on any scale, but who doesn't enjoy a good FanFiction or a spin-off, or, daresay, a sequel?
 

Posted Sep 23, '13 at 5:01pm

Nurvana

Nurvana

2,600 posts

Hard to believe that in my lifetime I was fortunate to see both Cenere and Strop!


/adjusts pith helmet

I say! Such natural grandeur!
 

Posted Sep 23, '13 at 5:24pm

Maverick4

Maverick4

6,889 posts

I say! Such natural grandeur!


Croikey mate! Looks like a big 'un over there! Imma gonna poke it wid a stick!
 

Posted Sep 23, '13 at 5:27pm

Salvidian

Salvidian

4,299 posts

Croikey mate! Looks like a big 'un over there! Imma gonna poke it wid a stick!


Oooooh! It moved! I'm just gonna aasdsdfrdktvvvvvvdrk
 

Posted Sep 23, '13 at 5:43pm

Salvidian

Salvidian

4,299 posts

Chapter 1
Part 3: More Booms

Pickpocket ran. He really, really ran. Pickpocket was an exceptionally speedy runner, but he still couldnât run fast enough. He eventually found his way to the Imaginarium, or rather, what was left of it. Everything was burning, and what wasnât burning was crumbled into two million pieces. He jumped across the burning blocks and whatnot and found the shaft. The shaft wasnât surrounded by anything anymore: the structure surrounding it was gone. He hopped down the shaft. As he fell, he reminisced.
Pickpocket was what most would call a âlost causeâ. As a child, he stole from his neighbors. A a teenager, he was forced out of his home. He lived in a faraway land and had heard that ArmorCity was full of treasure, from an anonymous friend of course. He decided he should travel. Upon arriving, he met Storm, and she gave him that deliciously sweet AP stuff. Since then heâd found a few anonymous friends who could supply him with more. The more he took, the stronger and faster he got, but the more he needed it. In this current moment in time, he was searching for his contact: a supposed little robot who knew his way around the city. He was told to go the Imaginarium, which he did but didnât realize it, so he came back. He was fairly ignorant of the destruction because he was used to chaos, and he had only one goal in mind anyway.
Pick fell to the bottom floor and sprinted off. He found the small robot huddled in a corner, surrounded by fire. The robot was no bigger than his hand, but it was so loud and beeped so obnoxiously that he couldnât ignore it. He had been instructed to put this robot in his ear, which he did immediately. The robot squeezed into his ear but Pick barely noticed because he was a bit more worried about the fire at that point. He felt the robot get in very deep, and so he yelled
âWhere are we going!?â
Normally the robotâs speaker was too small to make conversation, but it was much closer to his eardrum now.
âRun straight and donât stop!â
The robot had a funnily high voice.
Pick did exactly what he was told to do and ran clear into the cement wall, looking a fool.
âWhy did you make me do that!?â
âI just thought it would be funny, aha. Seriously though, go through that black door on the right.â
Pick looked to the right and saw the black door. Being right next to the wall, it wasnât much of a reach. They forced themselves into the door and into the room.
âWell, at least it isnât burning here.â
The robot hopped out of the ear and scurried over to a larger robot. The robot was named R2, but he was so small that no one could read his factory-printed name. They werenât even too sure of how he was able to move so quickly. He went up the larger robot and went into a hole. In an instant, the larger robot began moving. It looked like a metallic man in an actual suit, but there was no face. In place there was a speaker.
âThis is my surrogate. You like?â
âUh, yeah...â
Pickpocket was a bit confused by the recent events.
âA Minotaur built it for me.â
âUh, sure...â
R2 walked up to Pick and bonked him on the head.

Blackness.

Pickpocket awoke up next to an older man. He never was good at recovering after sudden blackouts, so his eyes couldnât adjust.
âHey there.â
âUh, hello.â
âNameâs Luka.â
âHiya.â
âBet youâre wondering where youâre at.â
âYeah, I am.â
âThat robot friend of yours dropped you off here and ran off.â
âWhere is âhereâ, exactly?â
âA cosplay party.â
âA... what?â
âIâm dressed up like Gandalf, you know, from the Lord of the Rings.â
âOh... Thatâs cool.â
Pickpocket had no idea what this man was talking about.
âOh, and your friend left me with a note. Itâs just a little something on a piece of paper is all.â
âWhatâs it say?â
âCanât read. Can you?â
âHeck no.â
âThey said I had to give it to you when you woke up.â
âBut I canât read.â
âI know. You just said that.â
âWhat should we do?â
âI can do whatever it says for you.â
âHow can you find out?â
âI have friends.â
Pickpocket gave Luka an okay and he walked off. Pickâs head hurt erroneously, so he decided itâd be best to lay down and take a nap.

Luka walked out of the party and into the street. He looked up to see that a dinosaur was walking down the street. Gripped by this sudden fear, his body was completely restrained and he couldnât do anything but stand there and watch. The dinosaur kicked Luka in the head with its big toe, completely oblivious to his presence, and wandered off. The dinosaur was leaving large footprints in the worn, rat-infested streets.

Blackness.

Luka woke up on the street sometime later and examined himself. Around him he saw the oddest little creatures, almost like they were from a childrenâs story book. [You, the reader, get to know that Luka had suffered brain damage and believed he was Gandalf The Gray. Thank Newman for footnotes] A small family walked up to him and he exclaimed, âYOU SHALL NOT PASS.â

 

Posted Sep 23, '13 at 5:55pm

Salvidian

Salvidian

4,299 posts

That was really weird. I posted Part 4 but Part 3 showed. I wonder if posts are getting mixed up again.

 

Posted Sep 23, '13 at 5:59pm

Salvidian

Salvidian

4,299 posts

Chapter 1
Part 4: Beards

It was a beautiful Saturday eve. ArmorCity brilliantly lit up the mountains circling the desert landscape. When ArmorCity had originally been built by the all-knowing Daniel McNeely, he placed it in the middle of a desert. This desert remained nameless, mainly because no one could remember what it was originally named and who named it, so it would remain âthe desertâ by the city residents. âThe desertâ (which will be referred to without the obnoxious quotation marks from now on) is surrounded by massive mountains. Before itâs assumed the mountains were named âthe mountainsâ, they werenât. No one remembers how or why or who or what but somewhere along the line someone decided to call them ArmorRidge. And so everyone else called them that.
The desert was as dangerous as it was beautiful. Frankly, it wasnât very beautiful, but it was pretty dangerous nonetheless. The desert crawled with nasty things, most of them small and cute, but some of them were big and frightening. No one really knew what was out there, except that there were things. A few outcasts of society make their homes there, free of societal norms and the judging public. Some live in caves, others in makeshift buildings. One particular outcast, Clancy, was notorious for being excessively alienated. He almost never communicated with the outcast community, and when he did, it was only to get something he desired. He was fairly famous in the eyes of the outcasts (who will, from now on, be referred to as âthe othersâ) because of his strangeness. He had a ravishing black beard and scraggly, black hair. His clothes were tattered remains of what once was probably a suit. The outcasts couldnât picture him without it, and no one remembered where he got it from. Clancy had a quaint shack a few miles west of the border of ArmorRidge, wherein he spent almost all his time.
On this particular Saturday eve in this particular section of the desert particularly a few miles west of those particular mountains, a particular Clancy returned home with his particular black beard and his particular rags wrapped around his particularly peculiar body. He lazily kicked his wooden door open and stumbled onto his bed, wobbling left and right. The bed frame was an old, rusted out iron frame that he found in a dune one morning. The mattress was made of some unidentified skin from a desert dweller. As he lay on his bed, Clancy looked around his cozy little shack. The door was positioned on the wall opposite his bed. He had a few broken mahogany cabinets lying on the floor next to the door that had some remains of food in them. The cabinets and wood that built the house were parts of an old house he found, albeit a bit knocked over at the time. He had some firewood and a brick fireplace coupled to the wall adjacent his bed. His home was pretty old and wasnât constructed perfectly, but it served him well.

He liked his home a lot.

He slipped into a light nap. A loud knock prompted a jump in his rattled bones. He lazily arose from the frame, which resulted in a loud creak of relief. He pushed the door open with his right arm (probably because that was his dominant arm and the arm that was opposite the hinge). He found himself face-to-face with a peculiar old man, quite resembling himself. This man had a grayish-white beard and grayish-white hair instead of the dark black, but otherwise the two looked very similar. Clancy cleared his throat.
âWhat?â
âHi, my name is Gandalf. Can I help you with something?â
âNo. Iâm fine. Goodbye.â
Clancy attempted shutting the door which yielded nothing but a hurt foot.
âCan you help me with something, then?â
Clancy let out an enormous sigh.
âFine. What.â
âI need you to help me find my cave.â
âYour cave.â
âYes. My cave.â
âWhere is this cave?â
Gandalf looked past Clancy and into his fireplace.
âYes...?â Clancy slowly said.
âI see my cave.â
Clancy stepped aside as the stranger barged his way in. Clancy, not too familiar with social conventions, simply stopped and stared. Gandalf proceeded to climb into the fireplace.
âUh, what are you doing?â
âI found my cave.â
Gandalf stood up, exposing only his lower body and legs to Clancyâs eyes. Clancy hadnât made any notice towards his clothing until now, but Gandalf was wearing rags that were stitched to resemble a robe. He thought he looked odd.
âThat isnât your cave. Get out.â
âNO!â
Gandalf fell forward, destroying every brick that composed the small chimney. Clancy was initially shocked by the erroneous strength the stranger possessed, but it was overpowered by his rage.
âGET. OUT.â
He could feel saliva foaming out of either sides of his mouth.
âNO. THIS IS MY CAVE. GET OUT.â
Clancy ran up to Gandalf and gave him a mighty heave, but saw it was fruitless because the stranger didnât move an inch.
âYOU SHALL NOT PASS.â
Clancy backed away and threw his fists into the air. An aurora formed around his feet and he bursted through the air, picking Gandalf up off the ground smashing through the fireplace and ultimately the wall. The two flew through the air for about 30 feet, wherein Gandalf was dropped and Clancy skidded across the ground. The two engaged in a battle of the century. [But to save you from destroying your own imagination, I am not going to describe it. It was just that bad. Okay, maybe I will. A little.] Clancy had destroyed the wall and the chimney that were supporting his shack, which caused it all to topple over. The two flew thirty feet as previously said, and then the real fight began. They soared in great heights above the heavens themselves. Clouds recoiled in the horrors that these two condoned to each other. The two were fairly unbeknownst of their powers because they hadnât much practice; however, minimal practice was needed to cause the horrors previously mentioned. After flying for a great time, which was probably an allotment of an hour or so, Gandalf fell to the ground, splattering sand all about the place. Clancy descended and and glared at his fallen enemy.
The black bearded introvert felt a small amount of remorse, after gazing at Gandalf for a while. The two were very close in appearance, and Clancy, although a non-believer in social conventions, thought that Gandalf mustâve had a hard time regardless of where he came from. Gandalfâs tattered clothes screamed these qualities.
Clancy turned to see that his shack was gone. He was entirely oblivious to the devastation because his rage for Gandalf took his focus entirely. Clancy functioned like the fictional character Sonny, whom he had heard about from the outcasts. Evidently, this Sonny character could only focus on one thing, and when he concentrated hard enough, he could unleash ultimate destruction on it. Gandalf seemed to have possessed the same power. Clancy fell to his knees and sobbed. He sobbed harder than what was previously possible. He went beyond the sob line and broke it. In simpler terms, he was a cry baby. Despite his former remorse for the white bearded introvert, rage re-consumed his body and he screamed so loudly that the outcasts called back in response, almost like wolves.
Clancy, now furious, turned to the fallen Gandalf and searched his pockets for something, anything, that would help him find those the character loved so he could destroy them too. As revenge for his shack, no less. He eventually found a wrapper, an old book, and what appeared to be a scrap of paper with some writing in it. He stuck the book and the wrapper into his knapsack (or as otherwise called, his pants) and uncrumpled the piece of paper. He read it aloud.
âHi Big G. Sorry about the accident. I want you to come over so we can have tea and biscuits with the robot. I live on the Imaginarium, in case the dino toe broke more than your frontal lobe. TOODLES.

Sincerely,
Stormâ

To his astonishment, there was more on the backside.

âFOR REAL THOUGH HELP ME. GO TO THAT CASTLE THING IN THE MIDDLE AND HELP.â

Clancy decided he must venture to ArmorCity [as he assumed anyway] and fulfill Gandalfâs mission. He decided [impulsively] that this Gandalf person had a mission to fulfill, and now he must do it. Also he thought this âStormâ person sounded nice and he was hungry for those biscuits. [I mean, who can resist biscuits?]
Clancy turned and wandered valiantly away from the destruction. His majestic beard and his great hair flowed in the desert wind. Blowing sands covered his tracks. Clancy descended down a dune, ultimately being unseen above the horizon.

 

Posted Sep 23, '13 at 9:31pm

killersup10

killersup10

2,782 posts

This will become beauty. A show of beauty, if done correctly.

 

Posted Sep 24, '13 at 10:44am

daleks

daleks

3,838 posts

Stroppity McHorseGuy

It is Stroppy McHorseGuy. Or Strawpony. Or Strop. There is not Stroppity. Maybe that would be a weird nickname Strip would give Strop but it just sounds wrong.
 

Posted Sep 24, '13 at 2:03pm

Nurvana

Nurvana

2,600 posts

It is Stroppy McHorseGuy. Or Strawpony. Or Strop.


There is only Stallion Man.
 
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