Story posts

Whack, Day 1

High Wizard f3licks stretched luxuriously in his new throne. He had won the highly coveted position of Dictator-for-life by default being awesome. His first official act was to disband all unions on pain of death, because cheaper labor meant more cool stuff for him.
As the peasants languished and starved, f3licks chilled and rocked out. Unfortunately, his popularity ratings were only slightly higher than Ex-President Bush's, meaning that everyone but a couple people hated him.
Suddenly his buzz was killed. All those whiny peasants demanding such ridiculous things such as less taxes and enough food for their families. They really ground his gears.

An explosion rudely interrupted f3licks' musings. Nine black robed figures strode arrogantly toward him through his now shattered door. He could see the strewn bodies of murdered guards behind the robed attackers. One of the men pulled ahead and produced a bloody sword.
"Consider yourself deposed." Said the man, pulling back his hood. The High Wizzard recognized his now probably former Captain of the Guard, Tron. "If you surrender peacefully, we will just exile you. Resist, and you will die."
"You know," Said f3licks, "They tried to make me go to rehab, but I said- 'no, no, no'". He punctuated each 'no' with a conjured fireball thrown at Tron.
Tron leaped over the fireballs and charged, as the eight figures behind him wove a spell together.
High Wizzard f3licks, ducked under Tron's blade, and buried a hidden dagger in the unfortunate usurper's belly. As Tron died at his feet, f3licks raised his hand and a wall of frost crashed into the line of rouge magicians. As they struggled to get up, f3licks walked towards them.
"Listen, some of you guys have some real promise. Unfortunately for you, you're years behind me. Now, minutes ago I summoned the High Inquisitor to the throne room, and she's almost as strong as me. When she gets here, you will all surely die." He stopped three feet short of his shivering foes.
"Now, you could attempt to zerg rush me, but consider this: the first five of you to rush me will die. If anyone wants to be part of that five, step right up."
"Fuck. . . you. . ." Said one.
"Yeah, you know you want to." Replied f3licks. "But listen to me. You all can run away, and then in a few years we'll have a nice battle royale, all epic-like. Deal?"
"Never! We will bring freedom to this land!" Yelled another.
"Well, there IS another option." Admitted f3licks. "I kill all of you, right now." He grinned maliciously and in both hands pure energy swirled. He threw both into their midst, and they scattered. As they fled through the door, f3licks followed, still throwing blasts of magic. He stepped out of the door, and realized his error.
"It's a trap!" He yelled. He had just stepped on a hastily constructed magical circle. A power amplifying circle.
"We are the Illuminati! We will save this land!" Yelled the first man.
"OSHI-" Those were the last words anyone heard from f3licks, as he was incinerated by the Illuminati.
"We- we did it!" Yelled one. "We own this country!"
"Bastards!" High Inquisitor Sekai and the feared Knight Darkwizzard (the irony) charged the group. Exhausted from their magical duel, the Illuminati all casts spells of flight or speed, and escaped. They would regroup, and slowly whittle away at the numbers of those who would oppose their regime.

f3licks has been whacked

After cleaning up the mess in the throne room, that is burying the High Wizard with all due pomp and circumstance, the High Inquisitor sat at her desk and popped grapes contemplatively into her mouth. Her trusted Knight Darkwizzard, DW to her, paced the room impatiently, casting furtive glances now and then in her direction.

Calm thyself, good Sir Knight, Sekai muttered, at which DW resigned himself to the settee by the fire. Addressing him more pointedly, we will catch these miscreants, but we have a difficult task. They are considered heroes in the eyes of many, despite their heinous crime. High Wizard f3licks was not the most popular High Wizard we've had. DW coughed and stared into the fire, refusing to be drawn. Therefore, we must not only catch the culprits but also win the populace into siding with us in our mission.

How can that be accomplished? As you said, The High Wizard was not loved by many.

I have a plan, she replied, pulling out a black notebook with some archaic writing on the inside cover, and I shall keep track of all the people we investigate in my book. She wrote a name rose abruptly, Come.

Her quick steps took her straight to the hovel most despised by the populace, after the throne room, of course. The merchant mr. failboat lived therein. He had made himself unpopular not only through selling essential items, which no one else could procure, at vastly inflated prices, but also through his dark predilections which involved young boys, corn cobs and sheep, amongst other less-common items which made her shudder. She had investigated him once before for the death of a 10-year-old boy. Although nothing could be proved in the end, everyone knew what had happened and church attendance had risen dramatically at the time. Everyone despised mr. failboat for his habits and she knew that he would be an easy rallying point for popular opinion.

Sekai pointed to the door of mr. failboat's hovel and DW dutifully smashed it open. That in itself brought the attention of all the passersby. She had caught mr. failboat at a somewhat delicate moment, it seemed. In his bedchamber a sheep was trussed up and was wearing peasant's trousers and a hat, though the butt of the trousers had a hole. The surrounding cloth was so stained that Sekai's stomach turned slightly and her grapes tried to escape. Fighting the bile, she instructed DW to free the animal and tie it up outside for the gathering crowd to see. mr. failboat was cowering in a corner, though strangely licking his lips. He grinned and asked, Will there be torture with pokers like last time? He licked his lips again. Sekai remember that he'd actually enjoyed their attempts to make him confess.

No. No torture for you! she replied in a strange foreign accent. She then proceeded to root through his belongings and assembled the worst of his toys on a burlap sack, which she then had DW drag out for the crowd's perusal. None of her searching uncovered any evidence that mr. failboat was a member of the rogue band, calling themselves the Illuminati. She wasn't surprised. Illuminati + mr. failboat? mr. failboat was so far from enlightenment and light as one could get. However, she had a circus to perform, and she dragged the half-naked mr. failboat out into the sunlight and threw him at the waiting crowd. What shall be done with him? she asked the crowd.

mr. failboat is a civilian

lynch, day 2
The peasants gathered in Yeee Oldd Pubb to discuss the current events. Absolutely none of them liked mr. failboat, and would have been more than happy to blame everything on him, and then kill the bastard, but the High Inquisitor had crushed that plan. As everyone milled about, the Illuminati dispersed into the crowd, and began to work.
"You know, mr. failboat should still be killed." One said.
"He is a creepy motherfucker." Agreed another. They soon had the entire crowd convinced that killing mr. failboat was a great idea.
"Wait, what about Firewolfnin?" A few people wanted to know.
"What about Jalnor?" Asked another, dumber person.

The last speaker was quickly pummeled by the more violent of the crowd, and with a little bit of blood to arouse their thirst, the rest of the mob grabbed various sharp and painful objects and proceeded to mr. failboat's pitiful home.

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"You got the stuff?" Asked Bman.
"That depends." Replied mr. failboat, "Do you have the money?"
"You don't get the money until I get the stuff."
"You don't get the stuff until I get the money."
This conversation carried on for about 10 minutes, just enough time for the mob to close in.
Finally a decision was made inside mr. failboat's hovel, and mr. failboat received Bman's life savings while Bman got a couple crude drawings of sheep in compromising positions.
"Yes!" He yelled, exalted. "I can fap at last!!!"

Bman's revelries were interrupted by a large axe going through mr. failboat's door. Immediately, mr. failboat jumped up and ran. He hurtled through the back door, and yelled:
"He's in the house! Burn mr. failboat alive!!"
The peasants happily obliged, and soon mr. failboat's hovel was ablaze. Within minutes, it had burned to the ground, leaving just one ash-black corpse behind.
Of course, had Bman not been furiously masturbating, he could have easily escaped, but that's life.

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One person alone did not go to the Yee Oldd Pubb that night. And only that person was not responsible for Bman's death. Instead, he decided to pay someone else a visit. Robes swished in the dark alleys of the town as the man known only as the Sorcerer swept past. He watched the mob burn the house- but cared not. All that mattered was that all enemies of his craft were vanquished, by his might.

The Sorcerer picked someone at random, and then followed them until the two were alone.
"Hello, AxeRiot." He whispered as he appeared three feet in front of the unlucky victim.
"Who-" Axe didn't have time to finish his sentence as he flung himself to the side to avoid a barrage of ice spears. He immersed himself in the eternal flow of magic as he summoned fire, lightning, ice, anything he could use to hurt this immeasurably strong foe.

He failed. After all of his strength and skill went into his magic, his opponent stood untouched- and with a gesture ripped the soul from AxeRiot's body.

AxeRiot was illunimati and has been lynched
bman was civilian and has been lynched

Whack, day 3


The newly elected leader leader of the Illuminati smiled at his compatriots. The seven of them were seated in a rough circle. They were currently camped out in the woods, and none to happy about it.
"Look, can't we go back to the city? It's going to be suspicious if we're all gone." Complained one.
"Yeah, there's no point to us being here." Another chimed in.
"Oh ye of little faith." The Leader's smile deepened. "Follow and learn." He rose from his seat, and then walked swiftly out of the clearing. The rest followed him, most with at least one weapon on hand.

They walked for about seven minutes before reaching another clearing, this time on a hill. From their elevated position, the group could see a pasture of sheep happily grazing.
"Well?" Asked the first speaker.
In reply, the Leader pointed at an extremely obese sheep that was crawling slowly towards another.
"Look close at that sheep."

The 'sheep' in question was in fact bulging at the seems. Something was inside the skin of the sheep, and something that did not fit well.
"Is that-"
"I'm afraid so."
The Illuminati watched in horror as the mock sheep suddenly pounced on an unsuspecting grazer and violated it. When it was over, the ungainly thing lurched towards another animal.

"What has been seen. . ."
"Is- is that mr. failboat in there?" Asked the second speaker.
"Yes." Replied the Leader. "We've tolerated his presence far too long. It's time we eradicated his filth from this land." As he spoke, the Leader raised his hand dramatically. At a gesture, blades of grass uprooted themselves, tens of thousands of them, leaving an entire side of the hill bare. While hovering in midair, the blades wove around each other, forming eleven spears, each three feet long. At another gesture, the spears flew straight, and impaled mr. failboat, who reached for yet another sheep with his dying strength.
"That was horrible." The second speaker said. "Bye everybody, I've had enough."


mr. failboat has been whacked