(All new parts will be on the bottom past the current posts.)
Guild Wars: Flameseeker Parodies
Chapter One
The kingdom of Ascalon is drawing its last breath. As the devious Charr wreak havoc outside of the country’s main defenses, King Adelbern gives a heavy sigh, knowing he will once again have to call upon his citizens to take up their swords and staves, in an attempt to stem the tide of these villainous beasts. The conscious of the great king is as massive as his bejeweled crown, for he must weigh his countrymen’s lives against this resiliant foe. Many have fallen, and many shall still fall. But the Ascalonian spirit is high, and morale has never been better. King Adelbern finally comes to a decision... He turns to his squire.
King Adelbern: Squire, get me the bravest warriors and mages of Ascalon. It is time these Charr knew defeat!
Squire: Shall I call upon the elitists who live in Kryta, give a signal to the Charr Slayers from the shivery Northern mountains, send a messenger to the brave souls of Rin, make haste to—
King Adelbern: Heavens no! Preferably something cheap. Children, perhaps. They work relatively free of charge, do they not?
Squire: I doubt they can wield a sword properly.
King Adelbern: What other choice do we have? Most of the people living in Ascalon do nothing but dance around the town square naked.
Squire: Very well, I shall tell the Town Crier to call forth the cheapest warriors in all the land.
(The squire turns to leave as King Adelburn thinks deeply.)
King Adelbern: I wonder if my son’s vanguard has made any progress in Piken’s Square...
Indeed, in the midst of a heated battle between the Charr, the brave Prince’s Vanguard finds a moment’s rest to heal and re-arm as Prince Rurik himself swaggers proudly into the frontlines. The sight of the grand yet humble Prince gives the weary men something inspiring to look at, and their minds are refreshed with new fantasies of victory. As the Prince eyes his men, more Charr spill out from the hills to attack their position, but the Prince fears not this foe! He unsheathes his legendary dragon sword and holds it high..
Rurik: Can someone tell me how to turn this bloody sword on? It’s not working!
Vanguard Soldier 1: What do you mean, it’s not working, sire?
Vanguard Soldier 2: I thought those swords were all like magical ‘n such nonsense.
Rurik: I got this at a discount, bloody hell somebody fetch me a torch!
Vanguard Soldier 1: We can’t spare any men sire, the Charr are about to flank us!
Rurik: I said get me a bloody torch or we all bloody die here do you bloody understand me?! Send the monk! He’s a fast one.
Vanguard Soldier 2: Actually sire, I can sprint rather well and—
Rurik: Send the monk! All he has is but a staff and no plate armor.
Vanguard Soldier 1: But sire, he’s here to heal us and prevent—
Rurik: I said to send the bloody monk to the bloody back to get me a bloody torch for the bloody sword that doesn’t bloody well work!
Monk: Thank Dwayna I don’t have to be here healing this prick. I’ll be back in an hour. With a torch.
Vanguard Soldier 1: Bring a few stretchers along with you when you get back...
* * *
The situation seems dire for Prince Rurik and his loyal troops as they fight the newest Charr onslaught. In the meantime, two brave travelers are skimming along the Wall in search of Ascalon City after meeting a messenger who told them that great rewards await the adventurous. These two men are of the warrior and monk profession, a perfect duo for the trials that had lain before them, and of those that are surely to lay ahead. As though fate were testing their mettle, they see a camp of what appear to be Charr hunters near a stream.
Warrior: Finally! Some action!
Monk: Warren, let’s take this step by step and plan accordin...why are you sprinting?! You idiot, you’ll get us both killed!
Warren: DIIIIIEEEEE!
The three Charr look up from their playthings and see a human charging at them with a hammer. They stand up and smile, laughing at the funny man and his whirling hammer. As he gets closer, they start to clap and dance in celebration.
Then their heads are smashed into a collectively massive, bleeding pulp.
Warren: Ha-ha! Victory is mine! For Ascalon and the Wall! May it never—what’s this?
Warren picks up a wooden carving of a Skale with a funny face, now splattered in blood and Charr brain matter.
Warren: Hey monky, take a look at this! These hunters were playing with dolls!
Monk: That’s because they were children. You killed Charr children.
Warren: Huh...I thought they looked a little small to be real Charr...I thought it was just the distance playing with my head, you know, things always seem smaller ‘n—
Monk: Do you hear that?
A booming Charr voice can be heard in the distance.
Charr: Muffy, Fluffs, Mangy, time to go back to our camp! Come on kids!
Warren: Finally, a real battle!
Monk: I don’t like the sound of that Charr.
Warren: He sounds like a pushover.
Just then the Charr comes into view across the path. He brandishes a massive axe, a battle scarred shield, and has a necklace made of human elbows, a belt of human eyes, and a sexy wig of human hair. He has an orange glow about him.
Warren: You! Charr! I have killed your sons and now I come for you!
Charr: WHAT?!
Monk: Warren...
Warren: I’m just riling him up, don’t worry. We can handle a chump like this.
Monk: Do you ever look at the Ascalon Strategy Companion? Ever?! That’s Swordfur Pissesrazors, a level 10 Charr warrior hero!
Warren: What’s our level?
Monk: 1 and 2.
Warren: Wait, how’d you get to level 2 without me?
Monk: I don’t slaughter children.
Warren: Okay, okay...we’ll just beat him by pure skill...what’s he famous for?
Monk: Something called the “Cyclone Axe”, dismembering, cleaving, and enduring pain.
Warren: I’ve got a healing signet and I know how to sever an artery.
Monk: With a hammer?
Warren: We’re screwed.
Will the two brave heroes survive their encounter with the terrifying Charr hero? Will Prince Rurik ever get his dragon sword to work? Why do heroes glow anyway? Does that monk have a name? Find out next chapter!
Guild Wars: Flameseeker Parodies
Government Flu
![[M]agna_[C]arta](/static/static/../Img/avatar118311_19.gif){kind=avatar}
[M]agna_[C]arta
Lol, Warrens stupid^^.
Can't wait for pt. 2.
Can't wait for pt. 2.
Sk8tborderx
Lol, that was great, I can't wait to see what happens next.
Eldin
Hilarious. Hope you keep working on this.
Yoom Omer
Great. thats really funny...
MrSlayer
That is awesome. More More 
Toutatis
This is great! I'm looking forward to the next chapter
Aleks
LOL!
I read that with a smile all the way through... Great stuff!
I read that with a smile all the way through... Great stuff!
Government Flu
Thank you all for such positive replies. I'm putting the finishing touches on chapter two. I hope you all enjoy this as well!
Government Flu
Guild Wars Flameseeker Parodies
Chapter Two
The lush green lands surrounding the kingdom of Ascalon are being ripped asunder by constant turmoil. Only the massive Wall that protects its inhabitants is left intact, a testament to humanity’s grand reserve against adversity. As royal soldiers and elite strike troops clash with the Charr’s relentless armies, the inner council of the greater Charr Shamans are making a plan; one that would end Ascalon’s supremacy over the conflict. All they need is the time...and with raids blooming across every front in the war, time is what they’ll get. One such battle is taking place very near the Northern part of the Wall, a hilly terrain in-between Ascalon City and Piken Square. Here, the valiant vanguard fight against the blood thirsty hordes of the Charr, but their victory is assured, for Prince Rurik is with them.
Prince Rurik: Oh Gods, it’s over! We’ve surely lost, bloody lost!
Vanguard Soldier 1: We’ve taken heavy losses, aye, but the Charr are starting to budge! We’ll beat them yet!
(A collective Hoorah is yelled by all the remaining men.)
Vanguard Soldier 2: We’ll kill every last one of them!
(A massive cheer spreads throughout the battle.)
Vanguard Soldier 3: We’ll tear them apart!
(The lust for victory is thumping in everyone’s hearts.)
Vanguard Soldier 4: We’ll bathe in their blood!
(Now every man fights with new vigor as the Charr begin to feel defeat. The vanguard’s morale is downright rabid as they cheer and yell.)
Vanguard Soldier 5: We’ll take their severed limbs, cook them in a pot, marinate the bones in a fine white wine sauce, steal their children for forced labor and dance until we’re drunk, YEAH!
(There is silence across the battlefield and even a few Charr scratch their heads. The action has come to a complete stop, and some Charr warriors take advantage of this to kill a few bewildered humans.)
Vanguard Soldier 5: What?
(An Ascalon soldier coughs. Someone else snorts up air. The fighting resumes, but Prince Rurik is as panicked as ever, until...a form looming in the distance. Rurik squints and could it be? Yes! The monk he sent to fetch a torch has finally returned.)
Prince Rurik: Ah, my torch! Excellent! I suspect the flame is burning bright, yes?
Vanguard Monk: Yye-ye-ye-YYEEESSS!
(The monk has sneezed. Right on the torch.)
Vanguard Monk: Well, it was.
Prince Rurik: Wait! All is not lost! What manner of sneezing was that, to blow off a torch’s powerful glow like that? Monk, stand still so that I may wield you to victory!
Vanguard Monk: Wait, what the hell—
And so a victorious strategy by the resourceful Prince Rurik was made. Rather than use his only monk to tactically heal the gravely wounded and resurrect the freshly dead, he picked up the rather thin man and charged the enemy. When he had a Charr right next to him, breathing in a typically foul way, Rurik...started tickling the monk’s neck. Then the monk sneezed on the Charr warrior and all three men were blown away from the battlefield. I’d say at least fifty feet.
Prince Rurik: By the Gods, that was powerful! Monk, can you do this more? Perhaps forty more times? Monk?
Alas, the monk had impaled himself on a deadly shrub. He was dead.
Prince Rurik: Hmm. My sword isn’t working, the monk is dead and the Wall is just over there...but my men need me. Without my help they’ll surely perish. But my cloak is already so dusty. Hmm...
Prince Rurik takes one look at the battle, one look at the Wall, and begins whistling. He gets up and goes towards the Wall. Meanwhile, the battle goes poorly for the Vanguard, who for the second time, have had victory snatched from their gauntlets. Now only a few remain.
Vanguard Soldier 2: Let it be known today that we died defending Ascalon in glory!
Vanguard Soldier 4: May our deaths be honored by the King!
* * *
That battle was won over to the Charr, but what of a more exclusive skirmish some two miles away? Warren and his monk companion have tracked down a cunning warrior hero after cleverly using the Charr’s own children as bait. Now, hurt by his loss and irresponsibly raging, the warrior eyes his next two victims. In this battle of wits and brawn, who will win?
Probably the Charr.
Swordfur Pissesrazors: <You vicious creatures have slain my pride, the very purpose for which I fight! Now I’ll cleave away your flesh and gnaw on your bones!>
Warren: What’s he roaring about?
Swordfur Pissesrazors: I KILL HUMAN!
Warren: Ah, that. Monky!
Monk: You know, before I die it’d be nice to be called by my proper name. Not monky, not healy guy, Brite Light, Baldy, or Syphilis. Valin! I’m Valin!
The Charr begins to charge at the two. He lets out a long battle cry.
Warren: Did I mention I can also sprint? Gotta go!
Letting out a burst of speed the brave warrior runs like hell.
Valin: Thanks, I’ll see you in the Underworld!
Valin gazes at Swordfur as he draws near, swinging his axe. In fact, he begins swinging it with such force and speed, the Charr blurs himself into a living, breathing cyclone, and he directs this awesome fury towards Valin. Sensing that he won’t survive, Valin ducks behind an ancient oak tree. Swordfur smashes his axe into the thick bark of the oak and the wind about him abates, the whirlwind gone. Much to Swordfur’s dismay, the axe becomes stuck in the wood, and he struggles to pull it out.
Oak Tree: OH DEAR GOD THAT HURTS! OH! OH SH*T! F*CK, F*CK F*CK, WHY?!
Valin: That’s not an Oak Tree, that’s an Oakheart!
Indeed, this ancient tree was an old spirit from long forgotten yore, a sworn protector of the forest, a mystical creature given life and earthen form from the god Melandru. And this particular creature also had a giant battle axe stuck in its side, which would explain its unusually lively behavior. As the Charr struggled to keep up with the tree so he could free his axe, the Oakheart jerked about violently, shaking its massive trunks in every direction and screaming more obscenities.
Valin took this time to retreat and eventually met Warren chatting away with the Northern Gate’s guards. The conversation, suffice it to say, was not thrilling.
Warren: Do you like the size of my hammer?
Ascalon Guard: The butterflies are out today.
Warren: I named it Hammy. Hammy the Hammer.
Ascalon Guard: Seems quiet today.
Warren: It’s a little bloody though.
Ascalon Guard: Seems quiet today.
Warren: Yeah, I guess...
Ascalon Guard: Keep it to yourself.
Valin: Warren! You coward! What was that stunt you pulled back there, I was almost killed! We’re supposed to work as a team but you turned tail as soon as we had a real battle on our hands!
Warren: Sorry...but you said it yourself, the guy was level 10 and he had a bigger weapon and I wasn’t going to take that on.
Valin: You said he was a pushover, Warren! You said it would be easy, Warren!
Warren: Well, I came up with a new plan. To run. You should’ve followed it along.
Valin: You know what? I think joining the King’s army to fight the Charr might be good for us. You might actually learn how to handle yourself in battle so I can have a reliable meat shi—traveling companion.
Ascalon Guard: It’s a beautiful day in Ascalon, eh?
Valin: Yeah, sure.
Warren: My hammer is still bloody...
Ascalon Guard: Seems quiet today.
Warren: Uh-huh.
Ascalon Guard: Oh, my aching feet.
Valin: Warren...let’s go. This guy is starting to creep me out.
And so after surviving a chance encounter with a Charr hero, our two adventurous friends head to the safer parts of Ascalon, away from the Charr. The City is a tremendous trade center, filled with plenty of quests and weapons smiths, merchants, and the Town Crier. The messenger’s directions were simple...to find this man and talk to him. Now that Warren and Valin are within grasp of becoming part of the Ascalon Army, the true story begins...
Meanwhile, somewhere in the Northlands...
Oakheart: AAAUUUGGGHHH!
Swordfur: Stay still! <Damn humans! I’ll track every last one of you bastards down even if I have to cut down all the trees in the forest!>
And on a hill near Ascalon City, overlooking one of the many battles...
Squire: My liege, reports have just come in. A large portion of Prince Rurik’s vanguard was wiped out near Piken Square. We’re sending in a salvage detachment right now. Any special directives for them?
King Adelbern: Yes, yes. Pile the corpses in the backyard pit. It saves money.
Squire: But they died defending our country, sire.
King Adelbern, sighing: Very well, throw a flowerpot along with the pile.
Where is Prince Rurik now? Will Warren and Valin meet Swordfur again? Will part 3 feature deep psychological evaluations into the culture of the Charr shamanism belief system? Will there be pie? Check in next episode!
Chapter Two
The lush green lands surrounding the kingdom of Ascalon are being ripped asunder by constant turmoil. Only the massive Wall that protects its inhabitants is left intact, a testament to humanity’s grand reserve against adversity. As royal soldiers and elite strike troops clash with the Charr’s relentless armies, the inner council of the greater Charr Shamans are making a plan; one that would end Ascalon’s supremacy over the conflict. All they need is the time...and with raids blooming across every front in the war, time is what they’ll get. One such battle is taking place very near the Northern part of the Wall, a hilly terrain in-between Ascalon City and Piken Square. Here, the valiant vanguard fight against the blood thirsty hordes of the Charr, but their victory is assured, for Prince Rurik is with them.
Prince Rurik: Oh Gods, it’s over! We’ve surely lost, bloody lost!
Vanguard Soldier 1: We’ve taken heavy losses, aye, but the Charr are starting to budge! We’ll beat them yet!
(A collective Hoorah is yelled by all the remaining men.)
Vanguard Soldier 2: We’ll kill every last one of them!
(A massive cheer spreads throughout the battle.)
Vanguard Soldier 3: We’ll tear them apart!
(The lust for victory is thumping in everyone’s hearts.)
Vanguard Soldier 4: We’ll bathe in their blood!
(Now every man fights with new vigor as the Charr begin to feel defeat. The vanguard’s morale is downright rabid as they cheer and yell.)
Vanguard Soldier 5: We’ll take their severed limbs, cook them in a pot, marinate the bones in a fine white wine sauce, steal their children for forced labor and dance until we’re drunk, YEAH!
(There is silence across the battlefield and even a few Charr scratch their heads. The action has come to a complete stop, and some Charr warriors take advantage of this to kill a few bewildered humans.)
Vanguard Soldier 5: What?
(An Ascalon soldier coughs. Someone else snorts up air. The fighting resumes, but Prince Rurik is as panicked as ever, until...a form looming in the distance. Rurik squints and could it be? Yes! The monk he sent to fetch a torch has finally returned.)
Prince Rurik: Ah, my torch! Excellent! I suspect the flame is burning bright, yes?
Vanguard Monk: Yye-ye-ye-YYEEESSS!
(The monk has sneezed. Right on the torch.)
Vanguard Monk: Well, it was.
Prince Rurik: Wait! All is not lost! What manner of sneezing was that, to blow off a torch’s powerful glow like that? Monk, stand still so that I may wield you to victory!
Vanguard Monk: Wait, what the hell—
And so a victorious strategy by the resourceful Prince Rurik was made. Rather than use his only monk to tactically heal the gravely wounded and resurrect the freshly dead, he picked up the rather thin man and charged the enemy. When he had a Charr right next to him, breathing in a typically foul way, Rurik...started tickling the monk’s neck. Then the monk sneezed on the Charr warrior and all three men were blown away from the battlefield. I’d say at least fifty feet.
Prince Rurik: By the Gods, that was powerful! Monk, can you do this more? Perhaps forty more times? Monk?
Alas, the monk had impaled himself on a deadly shrub. He was dead.
Prince Rurik: Hmm. My sword isn’t working, the monk is dead and the Wall is just over there...but my men need me. Without my help they’ll surely perish. But my cloak is already so dusty. Hmm...
Prince Rurik takes one look at the battle, one look at the Wall, and begins whistling. He gets up and goes towards the Wall. Meanwhile, the battle goes poorly for the Vanguard, who for the second time, have had victory snatched from their gauntlets. Now only a few remain.
Vanguard Soldier 2: Let it be known today that we died defending Ascalon in glory!
Vanguard Soldier 4: May our deaths be honored by the King!
* * *
That battle was won over to the Charr, but what of a more exclusive skirmish some two miles away? Warren and his monk companion have tracked down a cunning warrior hero after cleverly using the Charr’s own children as bait. Now, hurt by his loss and irresponsibly raging, the warrior eyes his next two victims. In this battle of wits and brawn, who will win?
Probably the Charr.
Swordfur Pissesrazors: <You vicious creatures have slain my pride, the very purpose for which I fight! Now I’ll cleave away your flesh and gnaw on your bones!>
Warren: What’s he roaring about?
Swordfur Pissesrazors: I KILL HUMAN!
Warren: Ah, that. Monky!
Monk: You know, before I die it’d be nice to be called by my proper name. Not monky, not healy guy, Brite Light, Baldy, or Syphilis. Valin! I’m Valin!
The Charr begins to charge at the two. He lets out a long battle cry.
Warren: Did I mention I can also sprint? Gotta go!
Letting out a burst of speed the brave warrior runs like hell.
Valin: Thanks, I’ll see you in the Underworld!
Valin gazes at Swordfur as he draws near, swinging his axe. In fact, he begins swinging it with such force and speed, the Charr blurs himself into a living, breathing cyclone, and he directs this awesome fury towards Valin. Sensing that he won’t survive, Valin ducks behind an ancient oak tree. Swordfur smashes his axe into the thick bark of the oak and the wind about him abates, the whirlwind gone. Much to Swordfur’s dismay, the axe becomes stuck in the wood, and he struggles to pull it out.
Oak Tree: OH DEAR GOD THAT HURTS! OH! OH SH*T! F*CK, F*CK F*CK, WHY?!
Valin: That’s not an Oak Tree, that’s an Oakheart!
Indeed, this ancient tree was an old spirit from long forgotten yore, a sworn protector of the forest, a mystical creature given life and earthen form from the god Melandru. And this particular creature also had a giant battle axe stuck in its side, which would explain its unusually lively behavior. As the Charr struggled to keep up with the tree so he could free his axe, the Oakheart jerked about violently, shaking its massive trunks in every direction and screaming more obscenities.
Valin took this time to retreat and eventually met Warren chatting away with the Northern Gate’s guards. The conversation, suffice it to say, was not thrilling.
Warren: Do you like the size of my hammer?
Ascalon Guard: The butterflies are out today.
Warren: I named it Hammy. Hammy the Hammer.
Ascalon Guard: Seems quiet today.
Warren: It’s a little bloody though.
Ascalon Guard: Seems quiet today.
Warren: Yeah, I guess...
Ascalon Guard: Keep it to yourself.
Valin: Warren! You coward! What was that stunt you pulled back there, I was almost killed! We’re supposed to work as a team but you turned tail as soon as we had a real battle on our hands!
Warren: Sorry...but you said it yourself, the guy was level 10 and he had a bigger weapon and I wasn’t going to take that on.
Valin: You said he was a pushover, Warren! You said it would be easy, Warren!
Warren: Well, I came up with a new plan. To run. You should’ve followed it along.
Valin: You know what? I think joining the King’s army to fight the Charr might be good for us. You might actually learn how to handle yourself in battle so I can have a reliable meat shi—traveling companion.
Ascalon Guard: It’s a beautiful day in Ascalon, eh?
Valin: Yeah, sure.
Warren: My hammer is still bloody...
Ascalon Guard: Seems quiet today.
Warren: Uh-huh.
Ascalon Guard: Oh, my aching feet.
Valin: Warren...let’s go. This guy is starting to creep me out.
And so after surviving a chance encounter with a Charr hero, our two adventurous friends head to the safer parts of Ascalon, away from the Charr. The City is a tremendous trade center, filled with plenty of quests and weapons smiths, merchants, and the Town Crier. The messenger’s directions were simple...to find this man and talk to him. Now that Warren and Valin are within grasp of becoming part of the Ascalon Army, the true story begins...
Meanwhile, somewhere in the Northlands...
Oakheart: AAAUUUGGGHHH!
Swordfur: Stay still! <Damn humans! I’ll track every last one of you bastards down even if I have to cut down all the trees in the forest!>
And on a hill near Ascalon City, overlooking one of the many battles...
Squire: My liege, reports have just come in. A large portion of Prince Rurik’s vanguard was wiped out near Piken Square. We’re sending in a salvage detachment right now. Any special directives for them?
King Adelbern: Yes, yes. Pile the corpses in the backyard pit. It saves money.
Squire: But they died defending our country, sire.
King Adelbern, sighing: Very well, throw a flowerpot along with the pile.
Where is Prince Rurik now? Will Warren and Valin meet Swordfur again? Will part 3 feature deep psychological evaluations into the culture of the Charr shamanism belief system? Will there be pie? Check in next episode!
Aleks
One word.
Amazing.
I look forward to the next chapter!
Amazing.
I look forward to the next chapter!
gervasium
You are a very good and funny writer. It's really a funny read. I hope episode 3 to come out soon. Ah... and don't forget pies!
Government Flu
Thanks for the replies guys, and sorry for the long wait, but I'm finally putting the finishing touches on Chapter Three! Let me know what you all think of it.
Thanks.
Thanks.
Government Flu
Guild Wars Flameseeker Parodies
Chapter Three
The city of Ascalon is filled to the brim with merchants selling their wares, from the most accomplished weapon smiths to simple fishermen trying to get by on their lively hood as music and scenery swirl together to create a truly distinct and fascinating place. There are bards singing songs of legend and would be warriors talking loudly at the pub while drinking their wages away, old soldiers talking of their encounters with the Charr and a young necromancer spray painting a bathroom stall because he realizes he’ll never raise a bone minion so he’s taking out his frustration on society at large and because of inadequate interest in the human condition these youths are allowed to be further corrupted by the failing system of the king’s rule...
Take a deep breath.
Warren: So where are we going? The pub, right?
Valin: No, we don’t have the money to drink your problems away. I told you, we’re going to see Sir Tydus. He’s the one that oversees all new recruits. Look sharp, Warren...if he doesn’t think we’re sturdy or sure enough, he’ll turn us away!
Warren: The pub wouldn’t turn us away. Well, maybe you. You’re probably too bald ‘n stuff.
Valin: That doesn’t even make sense! What does baldness have to do with entering a pub?!
Meanwhile, at the local watering hole...
Monk: I’d like a pint of your finest.
Bartender: Your head’s too shiny buddy. Get outta here.
Monk: I wouldn’t talk that way to me if I were you. I can smite you in the blink of an—what are you doing?
The bartender took his rag and started shining the bald man’s head.
Bartender: Sorry. You had a smudge on your head there. Couldn’t stand it anymore.
The monk begins to cry and runs away from the pub. On the way, he brushes past Warren and Valin.
Valin: Wonder what his problem is?
Warren: I dunno, but his head sure is shiny...
Valin: Nevermind that, look! Sir Tydus. Look...intimidating.
Warren: Okay. I’ll go smear blood on my hammer. I’ll be right back.
Valin: No! Don’t kill another kid, please!
Alas, Valin is too late. Warren has gone off into the city center in the search for blood. And so the monk doesn’t join the gathering line around Sir Tydus...he merely begins to watch the other future adventurers gather toward the veteran to petition their allegiance to King Adelbern and their country. He is simply taken aback by the sheer number of people who have risen to arms and has a moment of pride for his nation, seeing all these men and women ready to sacrifice their lives, ready to surge away into the territories north of the Great Wall. Sir Tydus surveys the many people in his grasp and beckons a few to him.
Sir Tydus: I want you all to form an orderly line around me. When I point to you, I want you to give me your profession. I’m not interested in names; we need to get a move on, lots of people to sort out. You! Profession!
Man 1: Warrior, Sir!
Sir Tydus: Meet with Van the Warrior! If any other men and women with that profession can hear me, go with him! Van will give you the necessary equipment to start your journey!
Dozens of men and women start filing away towards the town square.
Sir Tydus: You, what is your profession?!
Man 2: Warrior!
Sir Tydus: Why didn’t you go with the rest, soldier!
Man 2: I’m scared. And I was late getting my armor so all I have is a cape and shield.
Sir Tydus: And rather dashing underwear. So, are you a soldier of our great army or a coward?!
Man 2: I’m a cowardly soldier, sir.
Sir Tydus: Right, off to the SPARTA (Suicide Party Ardently Rallied To Ascalon) training quarters. Make our more poorly armored troops proud!
Man 2: I hope we have shade there...
Sir Tydus: You, wench! Fetch me a pitcher of cold ale!
Woman 1: ...I’m a monk. Asshole.
Sir Tydus: Then...can you heal my cold sore?
Woman 1: I’m gonna go now.
Sir Tydus: Ahem! Alright, what about you!
Man 3: Elementalist!
Sir Tydus: Anyone who’s an elementalist, go out to the forest for your first training session with Howland!
Sir Tydus: You, what is your profession?!
Man 4: Mesmer.
Sir Tydus: Good, good! Go with Sebedoh. You’re all going to clean the horse stables.
Woman 2: What?!
Man 5: Preposterous!
Woman 3: My pants will be ruined!
Sir Tydus: Shut up! That’s your training session!
The mesmers all take their time, some still milling around. Slowly they wander towards the exit of the city, dejected.
In the meantime, Warren tried to bloody his hammer.
Warren: You there! May I borrow a pint of blood?
Necromancer: Sure.
The necromancer pricks his finger and sacrifices 20% HP.
Necromancer: Sh-t that was my wrist.
He pricks his wrist for a sacrifice of 20% HP.
Necromancer: I think I accidentally slit it.
Warren: Whatever works, just pour it on there. Yeah, that’s good. Get some on the handle there.
Necromancer: Seriously dude, I need a monk.
Warren: Thanks buddy! See you around!
Warren goes back to the recruitment area as the necromancer is left there to bleed to death.
Necromancer: Okay let’s see here...rapid health degeneration...uh...what about using Blood Renewal?
The necromancer slits his other wrist. His HP begins to regenerate and his first slit slowly seals shut. But now his second wrist is bleeding.
Necromancer: Oh this sucks.
Warren victoriously returns to Valin with a hammer dripping in pure crimson. They are the only two left to be assigned. Sir Tydus eyes Warren’s hammer. He yawns.
Sir Tydus: Are you two drunks from the pub or more sheep for the King’s Army?
Valin: Sheep?
Sir Tydus: That’s a positive term.
Valin: I doubt that. I think you just had a slip of the tongue.
Sir Tydus: Nonsense! Haven’t you heard of the Master Ranger Pikor? His animal companion was a vicious sheep that could tear a man in half with one bite! And in the frozen Shiverpeaks, when Pikor was starting to get cold and soggy from the elements, he shaved his sheep to make a nice wool coat!
Valin: Then what happened?
Sir Tydus: Then the sheep died from frostbite. So go, meet your trainers, valiant sheep of Ascalon!
Warren: Whoo! May the Wall forever stand!
Warren rushes off into the town square as Valin stands there, pondering the story.
Valin: You know, that doesn’t sound like a happy ending.
Sir Tydus: What? You’re still here? Go away. I need to stand around and wait for the wench to bring me my bucket of ale.
Valin: Okay. Whatever the hell works for you. (Sighs.) This is gonna be one long orientation.
In the meantime, King Adelbern rallies the most recently graduated recruits with a heartwarming speech about sacrifice and the power of Ascalon. Hordes of men and women listen intently.
King Adelbern: My brave new soldiers! We face a terrifying foe. They look like rabid lions and are capable of tearing a small child into two, perhaps three pieces! It takes a little longer for them to tear the flesh off a well armored soldier like yourselves, minus the good armor. We’ve had cutbacks.
The troops all give understanding nods.
Kind Adelbern: The important thing to remember is that this new strategy will work! This troop surge will be the end of the war, I’m sure of it! Why, two hundred soldiers like yourselves will surely turn the tide of this long, arduous, costly war! And the important thing to remember is: your service out in the field will mostly likely be indefinite. We cannot give a time table for rests or relaxation, nor can we give any indication of changing pace, strategies, war planners, or equipment for it would only embolden the Charr! Now off with you!
The troops scratch their heads. A few sigh. Others kick at the dirt.
King Adelbern: A free golden keg of our finest, most expensive wine for any soldiers to kill a hundred Charr!
Cheers spread throughout the courtyard. The troops march off in confidence.
Squire: What if some of them do that?
King Adelbern: Nay. This roster of two hundred men doesn’t have a single monk amongst them. They’re doomed.
Squire: And you willingly send them out like that?
King Adelbern: It’s not like I’m going for reelection! Ha-ha! Get it? Because I’m a monarch! And this is a monarchy! And...is that a Charr chasing a running tree? Good Gods. This is surely a sign of...victory for Ascalon!
Indeed, from the elevated courtyard view, he can see Swordfur Pissesrazors still going after his axe.
Squire, sighing: I suppose you’ll leave a lasting legacy one way or the other.
King Adelbern: Everybody will lead me to further fame! Get it? Every body? Fame, I say!
Squire: Add an “in” to that word.
King Adelbern: Infamy? I don’t understand that word. It is not in my skill bar or vocal knowledge. Ha ha! Victory to Ascalon! The wall is in fine shape, so stop worrying Squire! Everything is fine.
Squire: That crack over there keeps getting bigger you know.
Just then, Prince Rurik comes into the scene, with a hail of trumpets. ... ... Actually, it’s just a single trumpet and Rurik is the one playing it.
Prince Rurik: Hail father, I come from a disastrous battle against the Charr!
King Adelbern: Do not worry my son, we will beat them back.
Prince Rurik: I would’ve won if I had a sword that worked.
King Adelbern: Then come Rurik, take this sword from the stone and become a true warrior! A king of all Ascalon! Take the sword that once belonged in my hand during the last Guild Wars. Claim it, and its might!
Prince Rurik: You had a sword set in stone in this very courtyard all along? Why didn’t I ever see it?
Squire, whispering: Because the King’s fat ass hid it.
Prince Rurik steps towards the stone and grabs the hilt, pulling with all his might. But, after many minutes, can’t even make it budge.
King Adelbern: Can’t pull it out, eh son? Guess you can’t be King yet.
Prince Rurik: Damn it! I hate my weapon! But I swear I’ll beat this ancient bind and free your sword from its prison!
King Adelbern: Ha ha! Good luck son, good luck!
King Adelbern turns to leave, his squire following at his heels. He whispers to him:
King Adelbern: Squire, make sure to add an extra coating of glue at midnight, would you?
Squire: Aye.
And so, brave warriors train for combat while others engage the enemy! Find out the happy, wonderful, perfectly favorable result next chapter! But before you go, be the first to use the King Adelbern build for PvE fun in your RPG.
King Adelbern’s Amazing Awesome Build:
Strength: 0
Tactics: 0
Swordsmanship: 0
Axe Mastery: 0
Hammer Mastery: 0
Regency: 1,000,000,000 (+1 + 3)
Glutton’s Defense (Elite)
Taste of Cake
Summon Squire
Block Artery
Lackluster Attack
Healing Sores
Fracture Hip
Enraging Nap
Use Glutton’s Defense at the start of the battle to gain +24 armor while wielding a giant ham. If you take too much spike damage quickly cast Taste of Cake for a quick health boon. When you gain enough sweat, use Block Artery on the enemy. Equipping a hamburger will yield optimal results on the enemy, followed with Lackluster Attack. You should cast Healing Sores for additional health mid battle since Taste of Cake has a long recharge time. If you suffer from a hex, use Fracture Hip to negate it. (Note you will be crippled and have deep wound, so only use this if you have a degeneration hex on you.) Finally, cast Summon Squire to have him do all the work for you and then use Enraging Nap to gain +100 armor and +10 regeneration.
Chapter Three
The city of Ascalon is filled to the brim with merchants selling their wares, from the most accomplished weapon smiths to simple fishermen trying to get by on their lively hood as music and scenery swirl together to create a truly distinct and fascinating place. There are bards singing songs of legend and would be warriors talking loudly at the pub while drinking their wages away, old soldiers talking of their encounters with the Charr and a young necromancer spray painting a bathroom stall because he realizes he’ll never raise a bone minion so he’s taking out his frustration on society at large and because of inadequate interest in the human condition these youths are allowed to be further corrupted by the failing system of the king’s rule...
Take a deep breath.
Warren: So where are we going? The pub, right?
Valin: No, we don’t have the money to drink your problems away. I told you, we’re going to see Sir Tydus. He’s the one that oversees all new recruits. Look sharp, Warren...if he doesn’t think we’re sturdy or sure enough, he’ll turn us away!
Warren: The pub wouldn’t turn us away. Well, maybe you. You’re probably too bald ‘n stuff.
Valin: That doesn’t even make sense! What does baldness have to do with entering a pub?!
Meanwhile, at the local watering hole...
Monk: I’d like a pint of your finest.
Bartender: Your head’s too shiny buddy. Get outta here.
Monk: I wouldn’t talk that way to me if I were you. I can smite you in the blink of an—what are you doing?
The bartender took his rag and started shining the bald man’s head.
Bartender: Sorry. You had a smudge on your head there. Couldn’t stand it anymore.
The monk begins to cry and runs away from the pub. On the way, he brushes past Warren and Valin.
Valin: Wonder what his problem is?
Warren: I dunno, but his head sure is shiny...
Valin: Nevermind that, look! Sir Tydus. Look...intimidating.
Warren: Okay. I’ll go smear blood on my hammer. I’ll be right back.
Valin: No! Don’t kill another kid, please!
Alas, Valin is too late. Warren has gone off into the city center in the search for blood. And so the monk doesn’t join the gathering line around Sir Tydus...he merely begins to watch the other future adventurers gather toward the veteran to petition their allegiance to King Adelbern and their country. He is simply taken aback by the sheer number of people who have risen to arms and has a moment of pride for his nation, seeing all these men and women ready to sacrifice their lives, ready to surge away into the territories north of the Great Wall. Sir Tydus surveys the many people in his grasp and beckons a few to him.
Sir Tydus: I want you all to form an orderly line around me. When I point to you, I want you to give me your profession. I’m not interested in names; we need to get a move on, lots of people to sort out. You! Profession!
Man 1: Warrior, Sir!
Sir Tydus: Meet with Van the Warrior! If any other men and women with that profession can hear me, go with him! Van will give you the necessary equipment to start your journey!
Dozens of men and women start filing away towards the town square.
Sir Tydus: You, what is your profession?!
Man 2: Warrior!
Sir Tydus: Why didn’t you go with the rest, soldier!
Man 2: I’m scared. And I was late getting my armor so all I have is a cape and shield.
Sir Tydus: And rather dashing underwear. So, are you a soldier of our great army or a coward?!
Man 2: I’m a cowardly soldier, sir.
Sir Tydus: Right, off to the SPARTA (Suicide Party Ardently Rallied To Ascalon) training quarters. Make our more poorly armored troops proud!
Man 2: I hope we have shade there...
Sir Tydus: You, wench! Fetch me a pitcher of cold ale!
Woman 1: ...I’m a monk. Asshole.
Sir Tydus: Then...can you heal my cold sore?
Woman 1: I’m gonna go now.
Sir Tydus: Ahem! Alright, what about you!
Man 3: Elementalist!
Sir Tydus: Anyone who’s an elementalist, go out to the forest for your first training session with Howland!
Sir Tydus: You, what is your profession?!
Man 4: Mesmer.
Sir Tydus: Good, good! Go with Sebedoh. You’re all going to clean the horse stables.
Woman 2: What?!
Man 5: Preposterous!
Woman 3: My pants will be ruined!
Sir Tydus: Shut up! That’s your training session!
The mesmers all take their time, some still milling around. Slowly they wander towards the exit of the city, dejected.
In the meantime, Warren tried to bloody his hammer.
Warren: You there! May I borrow a pint of blood?
Necromancer: Sure.
The necromancer pricks his finger and sacrifices 20% HP.
Necromancer: Sh-t that was my wrist.
He pricks his wrist for a sacrifice of 20% HP.
Necromancer: I think I accidentally slit it.
Warren: Whatever works, just pour it on there. Yeah, that’s good. Get some on the handle there.
Necromancer: Seriously dude, I need a monk.
Warren: Thanks buddy! See you around!
Warren goes back to the recruitment area as the necromancer is left there to bleed to death.
Necromancer: Okay let’s see here...rapid health degeneration...uh...what about using Blood Renewal?
The necromancer slits his other wrist. His HP begins to regenerate and his first slit slowly seals shut. But now his second wrist is bleeding.
Necromancer: Oh this sucks.
Warren victoriously returns to Valin with a hammer dripping in pure crimson. They are the only two left to be assigned. Sir Tydus eyes Warren’s hammer. He yawns.
Sir Tydus: Are you two drunks from the pub or more sheep for the King’s Army?
Valin: Sheep?
Sir Tydus: That’s a positive term.
Valin: I doubt that. I think you just had a slip of the tongue.
Sir Tydus: Nonsense! Haven’t you heard of the Master Ranger Pikor? His animal companion was a vicious sheep that could tear a man in half with one bite! And in the frozen Shiverpeaks, when Pikor was starting to get cold and soggy from the elements, he shaved his sheep to make a nice wool coat!
Valin: Then what happened?
Sir Tydus: Then the sheep died from frostbite. So go, meet your trainers, valiant sheep of Ascalon!
Warren: Whoo! May the Wall forever stand!
Warren rushes off into the town square as Valin stands there, pondering the story.
Valin: You know, that doesn’t sound like a happy ending.
Sir Tydus: What? You’re still here? Go away. I need to stand around and wait for the wench to bring me my bucket of ale.
Valin: Okay. Whatever the hell works for you. (Sighs.) This is gonna be one long orientation.
In the meantime, King Adelbern rallies the most recently graduated recruits with a heartwarming speech about sacrifice and the power of Ascalon. Hordes of men and women listen intently.
King Adelbern: My brave new soldiers! We face a terrifying foe. They look like rabid lions and are capable of tearing a small child into two, perhaps three pieces! It takes a little longer for them to tear the flesh off a well armored soldier like yourselves, minus the good armor. We’ve had cutbacks.
The troops all give understanding nods.
Kind Adelbern: The important thing to remember is that this new strategy will work! This troop surge will be the end of the war, I’m sure of it! Why, two hundred soldiers like yourselves will surely turn the tide of this long, arduous, costly war! And the important thing to remember is: your service out in the field will mostly likely be indefinite. We cannot give a time table for rests or relaxation, nor can we give any indication of changing pace, strategies, war planners, or equipment for it would only embolden the Charr! Now off with you!
The troops scratch their heads. A few sigh. Others kick at the dirt.
King Adelbern: A free golden keg of our finest, most expensive wine for any soldiers to kill a hundred Charr!
Cheers spread throughout the courtyard. The troops march off in confidence.
Squire: What if some of them do that?
King Adelbern: Nay. This roster of two hundred men doesn’t have a single monk amongst them. They’re doomed.
Squire: And you willingly send them out like that?
King Adelbern: It’s not like I’m going for reelection! Ha-ha! Get it? Because I’m a monarch! And this is a monarchy! And...is that a Charr chasing a running tree? Good Gods. This is surely a sign of...victory for Ascalon!
Indeed, from the elevated courtyard view, he can see Swordfur Pissesrazors still going after his axe.
Squire, sighing: I suppose you’ll leave a lasting legacy one way or the other.
King Adelbern: Everybody will lead me to further fame! Get it? Every body? Fame, I say!
Squire: Add an “in” to that word.
King Adelbern: Infamy? I don’t understand that word. It is not in my skill bar or vocal knowledge. Ha ha! Victory to Ascalon! The wall is in fine shape, so stop worrying Squire! Everything is fine.
Squire: That crack over there keeps getting bigger you know.
Just then, Prince Rurik comes into the scene, with a hail of trumpets. ... ... Actually, it’s just a single trumpet and Rurik is the one playing it.
Prince Rurik: Hail father, I come from a disastrous battle against the Charr!
King Adelbern: Do not worry my son, we will beat them back.
Prince Rurik: I would’ve won if I had a sword that worked.
King Adelbern: Then come Rurik, take this sword from the stone and become a true warrior! A king of all Ascalon! Take the sword that once belonged in my hand during the last Guild Wars. Claim it, and its might!
Prince Rurik: You had a sword set in stone in this very courtyard all along? Why didn’t I ever see it?
Squire, whispering: Because the King’s fat ass hid it.
Prince Rurik steps towards the stone and grabs the hilt, pulling with all his might. But, after many minutes, can’t even make it budge.
King Adelbern: Can’t pull it out, eh son? Guess you can’t be King yet.
Prince Rurik: Damn it! I hate my weapon! But I swear I’ll beat this ancient bind and free your sword from its prison!
King Adelbern: Ha ha! Good luck son, good luck!
King Adelbern turns to leave, his squire following at his heels. He whispers to him:
King Adelbern: Squire, make sure to add an extra coating of glue at midnight, would you?
Squire: Aye.
And so, brave warriors train for combat while others engage the enemy! Find out the happy, wonderful, perfectly favorable result next chapter! But before you go, be the first to use the King Adelbern build for PvE fun in your RPG.
King Adelbern’s Amazing Awesome Build:
Strength: 0
Tactics: 0
Swordsmanship: 0
Axe Mastery: 0
Hammer Mastery: 0
Regency: 1,000,000,000 (+1 + 3)
Glutton’s Defense (Elite)
Taste of Cake
Summon Squire
Block Artery
Lackluster Attack
Healing Sores
Fracture Hip
Enraging Nap
Use Glutton’s Defense at the start of the battle to gain +24 armor while wielding a giant ham. If you take too much spike damage quickly cast Taste of Cake for a quick health boon. When you gain enough sweat, use Block Artery on the enemy. Equipping a hamburger will yield optimal results on the enemy, followed with Lackluster Attack. You should cast Healing Sores for additional health mid battle since Taste of Cake has a long recharge time. If you suffer from a hex, use Fracture Hip to negate it. (Note you will be crippled and have deep wound, so only use this if you have a degeneration hex on you.) Finally, cast Summon Squire to have him do all the work for you and then use Enraging Nap to gain +100 armor and +10 regeneration.
MrSlayer
You, are a GENIUS.
Keep it coming
Keep it coming
Knight of The Shadows
roflol. Awesome comedy. The king's build is awesome. Keep them coming.
Komes I
U are genious! I loved that part about sheep!
Keep this coming! We love it!
Keep this coming! We love it!
Aleks
LOL! Awesome! Simply, awesome!
I love the mesmer training Even though I am one, haha.
I love the mesmer training
Even though I am one, haha.
Government Flu
Thank you all for your comments, reads, and patience. The finishing touches on chapter four are coming together so you can expect new material in just a few minutes.
Government Flu
Guild Wars Flameseeker Parodies
Chapter Four
With the drums of war steadily beating in everyone’s ears and the songs of war filling their heads with visions of ultimate glory, newly inducted members of the King’s army begin an extensive training regime that will distinguish them into a particular career, be it elementalist or warrior, monk or necromancer, ranger or guy dressed like he’s ready to go to a costume party but he’s really in a war so what the hell is he doing in a tux. Rangers meet with their trainer deep inside the woods just outside of Fort Ranik while warriors gather near the streams of Ascalon City. The land is ripe with sweat and blood ready to be spilled.
The Elementalist Training Session, Part 1:
Howland: Welcome welcome yessss yess, burn burn ahahahahah, HAHAHAHAH! Today we will learn how to meeelllttt....scorch....AHAHAHAHAHAHA our enemies into submission. Any questions?
Elementalist 1: Why are you on fire?
Howland: AHAHAHAHAHAHA! Be one with the flame and you’ll feel no pain!
(Foosh.)
Elementalist 2: Wow, I never knew a human could burn so brightly.
Elementalist 3: I smell Skale Bacon.
Elementalist 1: You can make bacon from Skale? I thought they were aquatic animals...like fish. Wouldn’t they taste like seafood?
Elementalist 3: No no, Skale are aquatic swine. They call them the pork of the sea.
(Sizzle.)
Elementalist 4: Well, if Skale can be made into bacon, why not a good piece of cod or salmon?
Elementalist 3: Who invited you to this conversation?
Elementalist 4: I’m just saying, I think you’re making up all this talk about Skale bacon. It was probably an expression you heard as a child and now you hold it as fact.
(Pop.)
Elementalist 3: Oh look who’s playing the part of the discount psychologist, whatcha gonna do next; tell me what my dreams mean?
Elementalist 1: Guys, there’s no need to be rude to each other, just calm down. No need to get burned up about something so silly.
(Sizzle, Pop, Foosh.)
Howland: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Lesson one! Burn down the forest! Lesson two! Get me a monk!
Howland starts to run around in a circle, setting ablaze all of the lovely trees as squirrels desperately throw nuts at him to hinder his progress. The squirrels however, being only level 0, do no damage and quite honestly have no place in an RPG bestiary. Soon, the entire forest is engulfed in flames.
Elementalist 1: Wait wait wait, I never learned how to properly control any of my spells!
Elementalist 2: I can make a spark fly out of my nose, want to see?
Elementalist 1 shrugs.
The Ranger Training Session, Part 1:
Artemis: Students, before we begin to head off into the woods, I must remind you that we must respect the Goddess Melandru for the wondrous creatures and fauna she has provided us.
Ranger 1: Isn’t Melandru a male?
Artemis: Transvestite, but that isn’t important. She has blessed us with the beauty of nature and we need to tread carefully, be one with our surroundings, and survive on our expertise alone.
Ranger 1: So pool all of our talents to just expertise?
Artemis: Well, you might want to learn how to use a bow as well, or perhaps tame a beast to fight for you. And you always need to know the basics of the wilderness so you can be prepared for any given situation.
Ranger 1: Can I just learn how to run around really fast and whirl around like a fruitcake so no one can ever even hit me?
Artemis: ...Yes. Yes you may. In fact, that was what the brave legendary ranger Tillyn the Excited specialized in. No foe could ever hit him, he dodged the Canthan assassins of Kaineng, the deadeye shots from the bows of Krytan rangers and the drunken blows of the completely wasted soldiers from the deserts of Elona.
Ranger 2: Sounds interesting. What happened to him?
Artemis: It was a deadly struggle against another ranger. Who was doing the same thing. Lots of witnesses saw the two just...running around and whirling like a bunch of idi—talented warriors and yelling out passionately, things like “I’m using whirling defense now!” “I’m dodging you!” Honestly, I have no idea why they said those things, perhaps just to psyche themselves up.
Ranger 1: Who ended up winning?
Artemis: Unfortunately, Tillyn ran into a deadly shrub and died. The end. So the lesson of the story is, while Melandru may be a kind and peaceful Goddess, she has also placed things in the wild that can kill you.
Ranger 2: Like shrubs.
Artemis: Yes. Like shrubs.
Ranger 2: I don’t believe you.
Artemis: Didn’t you hear? They recently found a monk impaled on one of those deadly bits of foliage. I’d best tread carefully. Come! We will go to the forest and see for ourselves. Let us hone your survival skills.
Ranger 2: What smells like burning wood and Skale sirloin?
Ranger 3: Hold on there chaps, Skale aren’t mammals, how can they have beefy parts to them?
The Warrior Training Session, Part 1
Van: Alright, gather ‘round gather ‘round. Now I know some o them pansy instructors out there will be teaching them rangers and silly ‘lil monks all about sniffing flowers and healing a bloomin’ paper cut, but we’re men!
Female Warrior 1: I’m a woman.
Van: By Balthazar’s bread, you’re no longer a woman darlin! You’re a man! From now on you’ll be standin’ while ye piss ‘n you’ll naught shave those legs o yours, no! Grow some facial hair ya sloberin’ sloth, ye no longer be a bar maid!
Female Warrior 1: Uh, yes sir, of course sir.
Van: As warriors, our closest friends will be our steel, our bed will be our shields and our helmets shall most likely obscure our vision because the bloomin’ thing doesn’t fit me anymore! I’m pissed! And you should all be pissed too! As warriors, we use our piss to light a fire in our hearts and drive our swords and axes into the chests of our enemies!
Warrior 2: I’m pissed! Yeah!
Warrior 3: So am I! (Cheers.)
Warrior 4: I just got so pissed I wet my armor! Whoo!
Everyone stops to gape.
Van: Lad, lad, lad. (Sigh.) I don’t think you vented your anger through the right outlet. Try again.
The determined warrior attempts to channel his frustration and immense anger once again. Suddenly, the area begins to smell rather oddly...
Warrior 4: Okay, I think I need new armor. Seriously.
Van: There’s a bright future in SPARTA for you boy, a bright future indeed.
The warrior coughs and fiddles around with his shield.
Van: Now, since ye all are rather new, we can’t go huntin’ the ickle ‘lil Char so we’ll improvise. We’re gonna do something that’ll hone your strength, tactical ability, and teach ye the basics of weaponry.
Male Warrior 1: What are we going to do, sir?
Van: We’re gonna pay us a ‘lil visit to the mesmers, that’s what...
The Mesmer Training Session, Part 1
Sebedoh: Alright, put your backs into it, come on!
Behold, a thrilling sight of training! The mesmers of Ascalon have all come to learn from the best in the arts of brushing ponies, cleaning horse crap, washing a donkey’s ears and carefully placing a saddle on top of ‘Ol Flatulence, the horse that can blow gas out at an amazing fifty miles per hour due to a freak accident with a drunken necromancer and a “well spell” gone horribly, horribly wrong.
Mesmer 1: My good pants! They’re ruined!
Mesmer 2: Oh Lyssa save my shirt from being soiled!
Mesmer 3: This is a battle we can’t possibly win!
Sebedoh: Fight the urge to throw up! Remember, if you see a horse jiggling its rear, that means it’s time to hold the bucket near the hind legs. We don’t want anymore crap on the hay. We just finished bringing in the fresh stuff. And you there, don’t brush that pony like that! Gentle strokes to the vertical left, not the horizontal right!
Mesmer 1: The smell...the smell!
Sebedoh: Quick, use your signet!
Mesmer 1: Which one?! I’ve got like, thirty of them! Damn it, why don’t we know any spells?!
Mesmer 2: My mask! The horse is eating my mask!
Sebedoh: Calm yourself, please! We can do this, just keep trying!
Mesmer 3: Aaauggh, I just conjured a phantom inside my own mind! Oh no! The hay! It’s all over my hair! The hay is eating me alive!
Mesmer 4: I can’t interrupt those bowel movements on ‘Ol Flatulence much longer!
The Monk Training Session, Part 1:
Ciglo: Alright boys ‘n girls. Listen, before we start, anyone got a light?
Monk 1: I do.
Ciglo: Great, light my cig won’t you? F-ckin’ tired man, real edgy too, ya know? Ever have one of those days?
Monk 2: Wait, smoking is bad for you!
Ciglo: Ah, shove that sentiment up your cottony ass boy! I’m not here to live forever, I’m here to teach you how to...the f-ck were we talking about again....ah screw it. Listen, I think that kid over there scratched his knee or something, why don’t you bastards go check on him?
Monk 1: With all due respect I think we should take a more serious approach to our training Brother Ciglo.
Ciglo: A more serious approach? Now you listen to me, “Brother”, I am sick and tired of teaching the same three spells to a bunch of weirdoes who think it’s necessary to either shave off all of their hair or cut out cute little patterns so one side of your head looks normal and the other side is gleaming in the f-cking sun. You’re all freaks, you know that? And you! You’re fat. Get outta my sight, your belly is bigger than your staff and your head is too bright. God damn it, where’s my light?!
One of the monks casts a glorious orison of healing light on Ciglo as magical emanations fall gently to the ground.
Ciglo: You think that’s funny? Huh?! Come here and I’ll show you how to mend your own broken bones!
Monk 1: Brother Ciglo, please. We seek only your wisdom.
Ciglo: And what the hell is up with those sandals? You know I’ve seen monks up in the Shiverpeaks wearing sandals? Can you believe that? Man, at least the Kurzicks off in Echovald know how to make shoes but nooo, can’t have shoes in the Ascalon army if you’re a monk, too risky right? We need to air out our toes so the magical powers of the light can flow through every little inch of our bright oblivious souls, huh? Is that it?
Monk 3: Look there Brothers! There’s something coming towards us!
Indeed, it is Howland the Elementalist, burning brighter than the sun. And he continues to sprint right into the crowd of monks.
Howland: AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!
All of the Monks: AAAAHHHHHHHH!
Ciglo: Damn that’s a good smoke. I love these things. Oh, what the hell’s that?
Howland bursts right into the monks and sets them all on fire.
Ciglo: Condition removal, condition removal!
Monks, in unison: But we don’t know how!
The Necromancer Training Session, Part 1:
Verata: My young underlings, today we will learn how to make me wealthier and all the more powerful by sacrificing yourselves to my every whim and command. We will head deep into the catacombs to collect...fodder for my work. And you must all pay close attention, for I will teach you the secrets of minion mastery only once. And then subsequently kill you, so that you may all be closer to Grenth.
Necromancer 1: But aren’t the catacombs miles away?
Verata: Hmm, you’re right. I don’t feel like walking and you’re all too frail to carry me. Let’s just go over there and kill some wolves. That’ll do. And you! Why is your wrist bleeding?
Necromancer 2: I...gave someone some...blood...but I don’t have...any real healing spells...
Verata: You fool, don’t slit your wrists to invoke the renewal of your blood, slit your throat.
Necromancer 2: Will...that...work?
Verata: Of course it will my young underling, of course.
The necromancer slits his throat and dies.
Verata: Mmm, yes...I love a boost of energy. You see my young ones, every time something dies, we reap the benefits of their unspent energy. You must understand, the world is filled with power, sweat and blood, flesh and steel, the arcane arts swirl about us and when an excess amount is left behind on a creature or stupid Necromancers who do my bidding even without having been cursed by my amazing powers of unfathomable depths, that strength can be sucked straight from the very air itself...
All of the necromancers open their mouths and make sucking noises.
Verata: No you idiots, not like that! Reaping the cosmic energies requires knowledge of the arcane and control of death itself! Although it is amusing. By all means, please continue. Then one of you shall revive your friend, for I am not completely without mercy. I don't want to use my signet though. It might get dirty, you understand.
Meanwhile, in the courtyard...
King Adelbern: Ahh, take a look at Ascalon in all its splendor! The forests are burning again, the necromancers are coughing up blood and the mesmers are cleaning our stables. My, isn’t it another glorious day in Ascalon?
Squire: My liege, I bring disturbing news. There have been scattered reports of a Charr hero gathering a milita of creatures friendly to their cause. He’s apparently using the catacombs as a way of getting from place to place and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to monitor his status.
King Adelbern: Then we need to send in our best agent to investigate.
Squire: You mean...?
King Adelbern: Yes. Solid Strider. The most elite agent in all of SKALEHOUND.
Squire: There’s no such agent. And what the hell is Skale Hound?
King Adelbern, sighing: I know, I know. Send in the child covered in black soot during the night again. Keep me posted on where they find his body, then we can use a map to connect the dots with all the other corpses to figure out the Charr’s whereabouts.
And so, the training has begun and all of Ascalon is standing by as the Charr plan something sinister! Meanwhile, the writer of this tale gets increasingly impatient with the closing paragraph so he’ll just leave it off at that. Pretend this entire document of the brave heroes and the fall of Ascalon is badly burned and illegible, so you actually had a very hard time deciphering what was written down. Case in point, you found the last page of this tale misplaced at the end of chapter four, but could only make the following words out:
"However, the most important thing to remember about the fates of Valin and Warren
and
since it was obvious that the path they had taken
in the thicker section of the Wall. In doing so
the evil but the soufflé monster
Pancakes with
the skeleton’s treasure. And so that is what really happened."
-Taken from page 2345.
* * *
Warren: Why weren’t we in this chapter?
Valin: Between the fart jokes and skale references, there just wasn’t enough room.
Warren: Well, I’d like to take this time to say something very important. My hammer is big. And it can crush stuff.
Valin: And it’s rusting because of all the blood you put on it.
Warren and Valin: And knowing is half the battle!
Warren: The other half is knowing when to use healing signet. Always use it in conjunction with Frenzy.
The more you know.™©®¢
Chapter Four
With the drums of war steadily beating in everyone’s ears and the songs of war filling their heads with visions of ultimate glory, newly inducted members of the King’s army begin an extensive training regime that will distinguish them into a particular career, be it elementalist or warrior, monk or necromancer, ranger or guy dressed like he’s ready to go to a costume party but he’s really in a war so what the hell is he doing in a tux. Rangers meet with their trainer deep inside the woods just outside of Fort Ranik while warriors gather near the streams of Ascalon City. The land is ripe with sweat and blood ready to be spilled.
The Elementalist Training Session, Part 1:
Howland: Welcome welcome yessss yess, burn burn ahahahahah, HAHAHAHAH! Today we will learn how to meeelllttt....scorch....AHAHAHAHAHAHA our enemies into submission. Any questions?
Elementalist 1: Why are you on fire?
Howland: AHAHAHAHAHAHA! Be one with the flame and you’ll feel no pain!
(Foosh.)
Elementalist 2: Wow, I never knew a human could burn so brightly.
Elementalist 3: I smell Skale Bacon.
Elementalist 1: You can make bacon from Skale? I thought they were aquatic animals...like fish. Wouldn’t they taste like seafood?
Elementalist 3: No no, Skale are aquatic swine. They call them the pork of the sea.
(Sizzle.)
Elementalist 4: Well, if Skale can be made into bacon, why not a good piece of cod or salmon?
Elementalist 3: Who invited you to this conversation?
Elementalist 4: I’m just saying, I think you’re making up all this talk about Skale bacon. It was probably an expression you heard as a child and now you hold it as fact.
(Pop.)
Elementalist 3: Oh look who’s playing the part of the discount psychologist, whatcha gonna do next; tell me what my dreams mean?
Elementalist 1: Guys, there’s no need to be rude to each other, just calm down. No need to get burned up about something so silly.
(Sizzle, Pop, Foosh.)
Howland: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Lesson one! Burn down the forest! Lesson two! Get me a monk!
Howland starts to run around in a circle, setting ablaze all of the lovely trees as squirrels desperately throw nuts at him to hinder his progress. The squirrels however, being only level 0, do no damage and quite honestly have no place in an RPG bestiary. Soon, the entire forest is engulfed in flames.
Elementalist 1: Wait wait wait, I never learned how to properly control any of my spells!
Elementalist 2: I can make a spark fly out of my nose, want to see?
Elementalist 1 shrugs.
The Ranger Training Session, Part 1:
Artemis: Students, before we begin to head off into the woods, I must remind you that we must respect the Goddess Melandru for the wondrous creatures and fauna she has provided us.
Ranger 1: Isn’t Melandru a male?
Artemis: Transvestite, but that isn’t important. She has blessed us with the beauty of nature and we need to tread carefully, be one with our surroundings, and survive on our expertise alone.
Ranger 1: So pool all of our talents to just expertise?
Artemis: Well, you might want to learn how to use a bow as well, or perhaps tame a beast to fight for you. And you always need to know the basics of the wilderness so you can be prepared for any given situation.
Ranger 1: Can I just learn how to run around really fast and whirl around like a fruitcake so no one can ever even hit me?
Artemis: ...Yes. Yes you may. In fact, that was what the brave legendary ranger Tillyn the Excited specialized in. No foe could ever hit him, he dodged the Canthan assassins of Kaineng, the deadeye shots from the bows of Krytan rangers and the drunken blows of the completely wasted soldiers from the deserts of Elona.
Ranger 2: Sounds interesting. What happened to him?
Artemis: It was a deadly struggle against another ranger. Who was doing the same thing. Lots of witnesses saw the two just...running around and whirling like a bunch of idi—talented warriors and yelling out passionately, things like “I’m using whirling defense now!” “I’m dodging you!” Honestly, I have no idea why they said those things, perhaps just to psyche themselves up.
Ranger 1: Who ended up winning?
Artemis: Unfortunately, Tillyn ran into a deadly shrub and died. The end. So the lesson of the story is, while Melandru may be a kind and peaceful Goddess, she has also placed things in the wild that can kill you.
Ranger 2: Like shrubs.
Artemis: Yes. Like shrubs.
Ranger 2: I don’t believe you.
Artemis: Didn’t you hear? They recently found a monk impaled on one of those deadly bits of foliage. I’d best tread carefully. Come! We will go to the forest and see for ourselves. Let us hone your survival skills.
Ranger 2: What smells like burning wood and Skale sirloin?
Ranger 3: Hold on there chaps, Skale aren’t mammals, how can they have beefy parts to them?
The Warrior Training Session, Part 1
Van: Alright, gather ‘round gather ‘round. Now I know some o them pansy instructors out there will be teaching them rangers and silly ‘lil monks all about sniffing flowers and healing a bloomin’ paper cut, but we’re men!
Female Warrior 1: I’m a woman.
Van: By Balthazar’s bread, you’re no longer a woman darlin! You’re a man! From now on you’ll be standin’ while ye piss ‘n you’ll naught shave those legs o yours, no! Grow some facial hair ya sloberin’ sloth, ye no longer be a bar maid!
Female Warrior 1: Uh, yes sir, of course sir.
Van: As warriors, our closest friends will be our steel, our bed will be our shields and our helmets shall most likely obscure our vision because the bloomin’ thing doesn’t fit me anymore! I’m pissed! And you should all be pissed too! As warriors, we use our piss to light a fire in our hearts and drive our swords and axes into the chests of our enemies!
Warrior 2: I’m pissed! Yeah!
Warrior 3: So am I! (Cheers.)
Warrior 4: I just got so pissed I wet my armor! Whoo!
Everyone stops to gape.
Van: Lad, lad, lad. (Sigh.) I don’t think you vented your anger through the right outlet. Try again.
The determined warrior attempts to channel his frustration and immense anger once again. Suddenly, the area begins to smell rather oddly...
Warrior 4: Okay, I think I need new armor. Seriously.
Van: There’s a bright future in SPARTA for you boy, a bright future indeed.
The warrior coughs and fiddles around with his shield.
Van: Now, since ye all are rather new, we can’t go huntin’ the ickle ‘lil Char so we’ll improvise. We’re gonna do something that’ll hone your strength, tactical ability, and teach ye the basics of weaponry.
Male Warrior 1: What are we going to do, sir?
Van: We’re gonna pay us a ‘lil visit to the mesmers, that’s what...
The Mesmer Training Session, Part 1
Sebedoh: Alright, put your backs into it, come on!
Behold, a thrilling sight of training! The mesmers of Ascalon have all come to learn from the best in the arts of brushing ponies, cleaning horse crap, washing a donkey’s ears and carefully placing a saddle on top of ‘Ol Flatulence, the horse that can blow gas out at an amazing fifty miles per hour due to a freak accident with a drunken necromancer and a “well spell” gone horribly, horribly wrong.
Mesmer 1: My good pants! They’re ruined!
Mesmer 2: Oh Lyssa save my shirt from being soiled!
Mesmer 3: This is a battle we can’t possibly win!
Sebedoh: Fight the urge to throw up! Remember, if you see a horse jiggling its rear, that means it’s time to hold the bucket near the hind legs. We don’t want anymore crap on the hay. We just finished bringing in the fresh stuff. And you there, don’t brush that pony like that! Gentle strokes to the vertical left, not the horizontal right!
Mesmer 1: The smell...the smell!
Sebedoh: Quick, use your signet!
Mesmer 1: Which one?! I’ve got like, thirty of them! Damn it, why don’t we know any spells?!
Mesmer 2: My mask! The horse is eating my mask!
Sebedoh: Calm yourself, please! We can do this, just keep trying!
Mesmer 3: Aaauggh, I just conjured a phantom inside my own mind! Oh no! The hay! It’s all over my hair! The hay is eating me alive!
Mesmer 4: I can’t interrupt those bowel movements on ‘Ol Flatulence much longer!
The Monk Training Session, Part 1:
Ciglo: Alright boys ‘n girls. Listen, before we start, anyone got a light?
Monk 1: I do.
Ciglo: Great, light my cig won’t you? F-ckin’ tired man, real edgy too, ya know? Ever have one of those days?
Monk 2: Wait, smoking is bad for you!
Ciglo: Ah, shove that sentiment up your cottony ass boy! I’m not here to live forever, I’m here to teach you how to...the f-ck were we talking about again....ah screw it. Listen, I think that kid over there scratched his knee or something, why don’t you bastards go check on him?
Monk 1: With all due respect I think we should take a more serious approach to our training Brother Ciglo.
Ciglo: A more serious approach? Now you listen to me, “Brother”, I am sick and tired of teaching the same three spells to a bunch of weirdoes who think it’s necessary to either shave off all of their hair or cut out cute little patterns so one side of your head looks normal and the other side is gleaming in the f-cking sun. You’re all freaks, you know that? And you! You’re fat. Get outta my sight, your belly is bigger than your staff and your head is too bright. God damn it, where’s my light?!
One of the monks casts a glorious orison of healing light on Ciglo as magical emanations fall gently to the ground.
Ciglo: You think that’s funny? Huh?! Come here and I’ll show you how to mend your own broken bones!
Monk 1: Brother Ciglo, please. We seek only your wisdom.
Ciglo: And what the hell is up with those sandals? You know I’ve seen monks up in the Shiverpeaks wearing sandals? Can you believe that? Man, at least the Kurzicks off in Echovald know how to make shoes but nooo, can’t have shoes in the Ascalon army if you’re a monk, too risky right? We need to air out our toes so the magical powers of the light can flow through every little inch of our bright oblivious souls, huh? Is that it?
Monk 3: Look there Brothers! There’s something coming towards us!
Indeed, it is Howland the Elementalist, burning brighter than the sun. And he continues to sprint right into the crowd of monks.
Howland: AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!
All of the Monks: AAAAHHHHHHHH!
Ciglo: Damn that’s a good smoke. I love these things. Oh, what the hell’s that?
Howland bursts right into the monks and sets them all on fire.
Ciglo: Condition removal, condition removal!
Monks, in unison: But we don’t know how!
The Necromancer Training Session, Part 1:
Verata: My young underlings, today we will learn how to make me wealthier and all the more powerful by sacrificing yourselves to my every whim and command. We will head deep into the catacombs to collect...fodder for my work. And you must all pay close attention, for I will teach you the secrets of minion mastery only once. And then subsequently kill you, so that you may all be closer to Grenth.
Necromancer 1: But aren’t the catacombs miles away?
Verata: Hmm, you’re right. I don’t feel like walking and you’re all too frail to carry me. Let’s just go over there and kill some wolves. That’ll do. And you! Why is your wrist bleeding?
Necromancer 2: I...gave someone some...blood...but I don’t have...any real healing spells...
Verata: You fool, don’t slit your wrists to invoke the renewal of your blood, slit your throat.
Necromancer 2: Will...that...work?
Verata: Of course it will my young underling, of course.
The necromancer slits his throat and dies.
Verata: Mmm, yes...I love a boost of energy. You see my young ones, every time something dies, we reap the benefits of their unspent energy. You must understand, the world is filled with power, sweat and blood, flesh and steel, the arcane arts swirl about us and when an excess amount is left behind on a creature or stupid Necromancers who do my bidding even without having been cursed by my amazing powers of unfathomable depths, that strength can be sucked straight from the very air itself...
All of the necromancers open their mouths and make sucking noises.
Verata: No you idiots, not like that! Reaping the cosmic energies requires knowledge of the arcane and control of death itself! Although it is amusing. By all means, please continue. Then one of you shall revive your friend, for I am not completely without mercy. I don't want to use my signet though. It might get dirty, you understand.
Meanwhile, in the courtyard...
King Adelbern: Ahh, take a look at Ascalon in all its splendor! The forests are burning again, the necromancers are coughing up blood and the mesmers are cleaning our stables. My, isn’t it another glorious day in Ascalon?
Squire: My liege, I bring disturbing news. There have been scattered reports of a Charr hero gathering a milita of creatures friendly to their cause. He’s apparently using the catacombs as a way of getting from place to place and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to monitor his status.
King Adelbern: Then we need to send in our best agent to investigate.
Squire: You mean...?
King Adelbern: Yes. Solid Strider. The most elite agent in all of SKALEHOUND.
Squire: There’s no such agent. And what the hell is Skale Hound?
King Adelbern, sighing: I know, I know. Send in the child covered in black soot during the night again. Keep me posted on where they find his body, then we can use a map to connect the dots with all the other corpses to figure out the Charr’s whereabouts.
And so, the training has begun and all of Ascalon is standing by as the Charr plan something sinister! Meanwhile, the writer of this tale gets increasingly impatient with the closing paragraph so he’ll just leave it off at that. Pretend this entire document of the brave heroes and the fall of Ascalon is badly burned and illegible, so you actually had a very hard time deciphering what was written down. Case in point, you found the last page of this tale misplaced at the end of chapter four, but could only make the following words out:
"However, the most important thing to remember about the fates of Valin and Warren
and
since it was obvious that the path they had taken
in the thicker section of the Wall. In doing so
the evil but the soufflé monster
Pancakes with
the skeleton’s treasure. And so that is what really happened."
-Taken from page 2345.
* * *
Warren: Why weren’t we in this chapter?
Valin: Between the fart jokes and skale references, there just wasn’t enough room.
Warren: Well, I’d like to take this time to say something very important. My hammer is big. And it can crush stuff.
Valin: And it’s rusting because of all the blood you put on it.
Warren and Valin: And knowing is half the battle!
Warren: The other half is knowing when to use healing signet. Always use it in conjunction with Frenzy.
The more you know.™©®¢
Yoom Omer
Quote:
Originally Posted by Government Flu
Chapter Four
BIG STORY
The more you know.™©®¢
ZOMG
ן just lay on the floor and laughed for half hour.
keep it up.
Aleks
I LOVED the last chapter! Keep up the amazing work!
MrSlayer
That was AWESOME. Finally someone has discovered the true purpose of Mesmer's in pve.
Dude you rock
Dude you rock
Knight of The Shadows
Goodness your trying to kill with laughter!
Government Flu
Well, after drinking a giant Monster (energy drink) I couldn't sleep so I typed up the next chapter and finished it. I'll format the new material and post it in a few minutes.
Thank you all for those comments and I hope you continue to enjoy my tale!
Thank you all for those comments and I hope you continue to enjoy my tale!
Government Flu
Guild Wars Flameseeker Parodies
Chapter 5
The ominous altar stares across the horizon in a blank stupor, ready to be filled by the magics of experienced Charr shamans. It has sucked the very essence from the wildlife around it, leaving the trees dead and rotting, the ground caked and dry, and leaving the air with a sulfurous smell. The Charr have recently erected this foul structure to worship their powerful gods but already the corruption sinks deep into the roots of the earth. The empty altar is now filled with mystical blue fire, crackling in the still sky, barely a single cloud moving across the far greater shadow of this mysterious shrine...
Charr Shaman 1: <Who brought the steaks?>
Charr Warrior 1: <I got them, I got them!>
Charr Shaman 2: <Let’s fire this baby up!>
Charr Shaman 3: <This has got to be the biggest grill we have ever constructed. The titans should be pleased by our offering of Skale bacon, skale sirloin, skale chops, skale bones, skale buffalo wings, and skaled skale.>
Charr Warrior 2: <I think we used too much propane, the flame shouldn’t be this blue.>
As the meat begins to sizzle on the grill, a great warrior looms into view.
Swordfur Pissesrazors: <Stop my brothers! A grave tradegy has occured! My sons, they have all been killed by the humans!>
Charr Shaman 1: <Do we really need to hear depressing news now? We’re just starting our grilling party. It’s gonna go all night long.>
Charr Warrior 1: <The titans demand it!>
Swordfur: <No! Whoever has been translating the ancient scrolls doesn’t know a thing about the language of the titans! This is not what they want from us!>
Charr Shaman 1: <No one has been following any scrolls or ancient verse here.>
Swordfur: <What, you mean you all just decided to have a barbeque?>
Charr Shaman 2: <That’s right.>
Swordfur: <Using a sacred altar?>
Charr Warrior 1: <We used the wood from our Titan statues to make the skewers for our mixed meat sticks too. Want to try one? They’re fantastic.>
Swordfur: <So that’s why the Titans only have one leg now... Look! That’s not important! I have a better idea! Something that will truly please the Titans and finally finish this war once and for all! We must use...>
Charr Shaman 1: <...the forbidden sauce?>
Swordfur: <Stop thinking about food! Listen, we must gather our strongest heroes together and use forbidden magic, yes, magic to make the humans fall to their knees! My son’s lives must be avenged!>
Charr Warrior 2: <Swordfur, I couldn’t help but notice your axe is stuck in a large chunk of wood. In fact, it looks like an entire tree.>
Swordfur: <Yes, yes. This is true. I couldn’t get it out, so I’ll just wield it as is. I’m strong enough for such a task.>
Oakheart: ...aaahh...help...meee....
And so, while the Charr plan something absolutely delicious and diabolical at the same time, let’s see what the Ascalonians are up to.
Monk Training Session, Part 2
Ciglo: Don’t worry, the scarring should be gone when your flesh regrows. Eventually.
Monk 1: Thank you Brother Ciglo...
Mhenlo: If I wasn’t here praying to Dwayna today, you all would have died. Except for Brother Ciglo, who was kind enough to cast Healing Breeze, Shield of Regeneration, Mending, Life Bond, Protective Spirit, Vital Blessing, Reversal of Fortune, and Shielding Hands on himself. He also found enough time to buy himself a soda while I hurried to save all of you.
Monk 2: Brother Ciglo did his best, Mhenlo. We must not blame but instead forgive.
Ciglo burps.
Mhenlo: Yes, yes. You’re right. A shame about Howland though. He was too badly burned to save. I tried to resurrect him but when his freshly slain corpse regained life...he just set himself on fire again.
Monk 3: Thank you for showing us all of those wonderful skills Brother Mhenlo. Condition removal is surely a must for our travels. I think I speak for all of us when I say we owe you our lives and thanks.
Ciglo: Yah don’t speak for me.
Monk 2: Please don’t be so callous Ciglo.
Ciglo: Condition removal shmooval. Enchantments are where it’s at. That’s what keeps you going.
Mhenlo: You can stop maintaining them now Ciglo. You’re not in any danger.
Ciglo: I’ll keep them on me for the time being, thank you very much. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to go and buy myself another drink.
Ciglo walks off into town.
Monk 1, sighing: There goes a confident healer.
Mhenlo: His confidence is so great I fear that he might fall into a trap one of these days...
Monk 2: One more enchantment and I don’t even think any oxygen would be able to go into his lungs.
Ciglo, shouting from a distance: Ow, I stubbed my f-cking toe!
Warrior Training Session, Part 2
Without knowing, the mesmers have been surrounded by a pack of warriors eager to hone their skills. Van whispers to his men reassuringly, going over the plan of attack as horses gently snort within the stable, mixing their sounds with the screams of horrified mesmers and an increasingly panicked Sebedoh.
Van: Alright, ‘ere’s what we’re gonna do lads. I want ya two ta sprint into the stable ‘n open all the stable doors, then the second wave will smack the horses ‘n run away causing them to get angry and possibly stampede, eh? The last team I want ta use the blunt end o their weapons ‘n hit every mesmer in the face, stomach, balls, knees, anywhere ya want lads I don’t really give a damn.
Warrior 1: What if we kill one of them, sir?
Van: Ye’ve all got resurrection signets right lads?
All of the warriors laugh loudly.
Warrior 2: Of course not!
Van: Atta boy! Who cares what ‘appens ta mesmers? No one even knows what they’re really used for! Now go on, show me what ya all be capable of! Except for you laddie. I’ve yet ta see a beard grow from yer chin.
Female Warrior: Yy-yes sir!
The first team of warriors rushes in and does as instructed, smashing the doors open and opening the stables, pushing mesmers out of the way and laughing giddily. One of them runs into a wall, narrowly missing the exit. He is knocked unconscious. His last thought is why the wall didn’t move out of his way as the second wave goes in to irritate the horses. One of the mesmers is kicked to the other end of the barn when one of the steeds thrusts out its hind legs. ‘Ol Flatulence was unfortunately slapped in the ass, which caused his bowels to roar into action. Suffice to say, the area of effect damage was all encompassing and it’ll take years to wipe the stench from the stable clean.
The last wave comes in and starts to bash the living crap out of the remaining mesmers still standing on their feet.
Warrior 6: Have at thee!
Panicking, the mesmer about to be hit conjures up a nightmare that thankfully hits the victim and not the caster. The warrior stops and drops his sword, gaping into the empty field brimming through the open door.
Warrior 6: No...no! My worst fears have come true! It’s a full battalion of first century literature I never wanted to read! And they’re galloping on paper ponies carrying rubber knives! Oh by the—huh?
Alas, the spell only lasted five seconds and the warrior sees the mesmer trying to tiptoe away. Subsequently, the warrior uses his fist to give the mesmer a migraine. This one isn’t so much a hex as it is a condition. A very nasty, nasty condition.
Elementalist Training Session, Part 2
We find the group of Elementalists safe and sound in a more peaceful part of the forest, where the thick smoke is a faint trail in the afternoon sky. But who saved them in their time of need? None other than...
The Real Howland: So you see, that was just a babbling idiot that went insane and ran off into the wilds two years ago. I’m surprised you all came across him when you did. Very bad luck I’d have to say. But I managed to find my students just before that section of the forest collapsed on you all! Ha! Now that’s the good kind of luck we all need these days right?
Elementalist 1: We thought we were goners when those level 1 Burning Squirrels started throwing melting acorns at us.
Elementalist 2: How did the imposter go insane?
Howland: He had tripped over a root and scratched his knee.
Elementalist 2: That’s it?!
Howland: Then a snake bit him in the other knee.
Elementalist 2: Hmm...
Howland: Then as he was getting up, a badger crapped on his robes.
Elementalist 2: Oh, okay...well...
Howland: Then a bear ambled over and mauled him. Took all of his gold and a valuable fire staff. Smart bear, I think.
Elementalist 2: Alright, I understand now.
Howland: Then two more snakes bit him.
Elementalist 2: ...
Howland: And a mongoose. I was very surprised it went after him and not the snakes. Anyway, after that for some strange reason he thought that the forest was laughing at him and he just kind of wandered off, mumbling something about seeking medical attention. I don’t really care for that kind of conversation, so I let him be. I’m a pyromancer, not a monk. So! Here’s your first real lesson.
Elementalist 1: Finally! That guy was nuts but you seem perfectly alright. What’s first on our list, great mage?
Howland: Lesson one. How to burn down a forest calmly, and properly. Always start with the tallest tree in sigh and work your way down, making sure to set fire to the wildlife so they can spread it as they run around in pure agony.
Elementalist 3: Hey chaps, this makes perfect sense! I think I’m finally starting to get it!
Howland: Lesson two will be blaming it on the rangers, but we’ll get to that once we’ve had practice with the first part, okay?
And so the first tree is set ablaze...
Necromancer Training Session, Part 2
Verata: This clearing is absolutely perfect my foolish henchmen. Look at all the wolves just ambling around waiting for their demise.
Necromancer 1: Yeah, I always wondered why all the wildlife always moved about so slowly and without purpose. Even when you get close to them they still just kind of shift from place to place, aimlessly moving in a random pattern.
Verata: Enough thoughts my young one, you might hurt your fragile mind. Now go out my minions, and kill those wolves so that I may show you all how to raise their corpses to create horrific creations. The mark of a true necromancer.
All Necromancers: Yes my master!
Verata: What was that?
Necromancer 2: Oh, do we really have to say it?
Verata: Yes!
All Necromancers: Yes my mighty master of death, whom all living things tremble for he commands the very leylines of Grenth’s unstoppable power, he who chills the bones of warriors shut, he who rips the strength from holy monks, he who...
Necromancer 3: Master, the wolves are starting to leave the area.
Verata: Oh very well! You can all finish my proper title later. Go forth and kill those vicious creatures!
Necromancer 1: But you haven’t taught us any skills yet, master.
Verata, sighing: Fine. Here, take these barbed signets. Use them on the wolves and stop complaining.
Necromancer 2: I don’t want to pick that up. It’s got barbs all over it.
Verata, annoyed: That’s the point.
Necromancer 2: How is it supposed to be wielded?
Verata deftly picks up one of the signets without hurting himself and places it firmly into the inquiring Necromancer’s hands. He screams in pain as the barbs dig into his skin.
Verata: There. Now go flail around like an idiot until you hit something.
And so the small group of necromancers, under the guidance of their trainer, take their signets and begin trying to kill the wolves. Many of them die in the process, victims of rabid teeth marks, deep claw wounds, and massive blood loss due to barbed signets firmly lodged in their hands. The few that survive triumphantly return to Verata. He yawns at the aftermath.
Verata: Alright, now stand back and watch in amazement.
The necromancers all run and hide behind a grove of trees.
Verata: You don’t have to go that far back you fools. It won’t kill you.
They all seem hesitant but they agree to go back to their trainer. Using his immense power, Verata focuses his mind on one of the fresh corpses and lowers his hands to the body, slowly moving his fingers to create a wave of deathly force that rushes into the cadaver and rips it back into existence, the flesh ripping itself off as the bones reassemble and warp to create something truly shambling and terrifying. A bone minion. It stares blankly at the master who created it.
Verata: A rather simple creation, but a good start. You must all focus your darkest thoughts to the forefront of your mind and then release them gently through the fingertips to power the body, then use forceful movements of the arms to bring it into animation. You! I want you to try first.
The necromancer nods and focuses on his corpse. He stares intently, moving his fingers to and fro, until he finally musters enough willpower to bring his own ghastly creation into being. Verata looks intrigued at what was wrought.
Verata: Interesting. You animated the wolf’s...jaws. What kind of thoughts were you using to power your spell?
The little minion skitters away into the forest as the necromancer blushes.
Necromancer 1: I have poor dental coverage.
Verata: A foul thought indeed, but not foul enough. You! Try next.
And so the second necromancer conjures his animation spell, with similar results. Verata is a bit less intrigued and a lot more disgusted this time around.
Verata: Yes, yes. That’s all well and good, but a minion made out of a wolf’s testicles won’t do the trick. I’m not even going to wonder about what thoughts you were thinking of when you summoned that into being. Next failure please.
The third necromancer seems confident, and selects his corpse carefully.
Verata: If I see another undead genital, one of you will die. So choose your thoughts carefully.
The necromancer nods and does his spell. The minion that arises seems to be perfect, an exact copy of Verata’s. The trainer eyes the creation with a raised brow, incredulous.
Verata: Is it possible that after all these batches of idiots one student with potential somehow made it into my midst?
The minion walks up to Verata and raises its arms. The master necromancer prepares himself to counterattack, but instead of starting an assault, the minion gives Verata a warm, gooey hug. Then it starts to dance.
Verata: And this is what happens when you combine sadistic thoughts with happy ones. You fail. You’re all the worst lot of minion masters I’ve ever seen. Get out of my sight.
The minion seems to understand the necromancer’s harsh words, and shrugs. It turns to its masters and gives a horrific grimace that resembles a smile. It waves good-bye and walks off into the forest.
Mesmer Training Session, Part 2
There’s not much to say here. The mesmers went off to the Sanitarium to get treated by the monks but were attacked by a rouge bull on their way there. The badly battered and bruised mesmers tried to defend themselves by throwing signets at the beast, but to no avail. Some of them were knocked into tree branches, struck down and stamped on, or laughed at by the bandits watching. The remaining survivors went back to Ascalon City as Sebedoh tried to reassure them that this happens every year and that eventually they would learn a spell or two.
Total number of causalities: Five mesmers. Ten pairs of pants. Three masks. Six silk shirts. A skale that happened to be trampled by a tiny little pony as it splashed about the river.
Ranger Training Session, Part 2
Ranger 1: I swear I’m not lying! I just saw a pair of testicles scurry over to that tree stump over there!
Artemis: You’re being foolish, now calm down. Before we track the cause of all these forest fires, I want you all to learn something important: how to charm and tame an animal companion. Now, I know some rangers use advanced methods like wearing a provocative dress and using animal mating calls, but for beginners its best to just use meat, berries, or something shiny. Come to think of it, that method will probably last you all your life. So forget I ever said anything about dresses.
Ranger 2: Okay.
Artemis: I DON’T CROSS DRESS EVERY FRIDAY AND HIT ON WARRIORS IN BARS! STOP ACCUSING ME!
Ranger 2: No one was...
Ranger 1: I’m starting to lose it. I just saw a full set of teeth clattering after the testicles.
Artemis: Over here is a serene clearing where a lot of wolves are usually found. It’s very remote so the wildlife should be observed carefully. No sudden movements, and remember to...to...
Ranger 3: What the hell...?
The rangers all file out into the clearing to find several human corpses and dozens of slaughtered wolves.
Artemis: Oookkkaayyyy. No target practice because someone burned down that part of the forest, no animal charming because all of the animals are dead and now we’ve got another fire brewing to the south over there where our wilderness survival test used to be.
Ranger 3: What now?
Artemis: We track down the bastards who did this. And we put an arrow through each of their hearts.
Ranger 1: I don’t even know how to notch my bow yet.
Artemis: Alright, fine. You’re all dismissed I’m going after them alone.
Artemis, in a calm fury runs off deep into the woods, leaving his students behind. They all turn to look at each other.
Ranger 2: Uh...does anyone know how to get back to Ascalon from here?
They all shake their heads.
Ranger 2: Great. We’re dead.
And back at the castle courtyard...
Prince Rurik: I must get this sword out of the stone! No one is watching so I can use my secret method...perhaps that’s what my father wants me to do. To use my cunning!
Prince Rurik has brought a chisel and hammer with him and so he begins to chip away at the rock while occassionally blowing his trumpet to keep his own morale up. A few soldiers pass by as they patrol the yard and they all agree the young prince has lost his mind. Finally, after afternoon had given way to dusk and dusk to night, Prince Rurik releases enough of the sword to pull it out...only to reveal...
Prince Rurik: But, but! This is just the hilt of a sword! How can this be?!
Just then, the squire walks by with a pot of glue. He quickly conceals it when he sees the prince kneeled over the stone. Rurik turns to the squire.
Prince Rurik: Squire! What has happened to my father’s legendary sword? Have the ages ravaged it beyond repair?
Squire: Ah, no actually. He took the blade part to get it shined at the blacksmith’s.
Prince Rurik: Oh.
Squire: Yeah, he has me make a new rock mold every week. You know how it is.
Prince Rurik: Indeed. Well, I suppose I’ll just...keep using my dragon sword. The one that doesn’t bloody work.
Squire: Might I offer a suggestion?
Prince Rurik: What?
Squire: Press the “on” button.
Prince Rurik: This sword has a button?
Squire: Well yeah. I mean, what? You thought the sword just always blazed away? How could anyone sheathe or store it properly if it didn’t have an off switch?
Prince Rurik fumbles around with his sword until he finds the on switch. It makes clicking sounds like a lighter on a stove would, but fails to light.
Squire: Looks like it needs some more fluid.
Prince Rurik: Damn it! Lighter fluid is so expensive ever since Orr blew up.
And back at the town, Van the warrior is awakened by the loud and somewhat obnoxious knocking of his door. He grumbles as he shuffles over to the front entrance and opens it to reveal an excited Warren, hammer still dripping wet with blood.
Van: What do ye want lad?
Warren: I’ve come for my training session, sir!
Van: It’s two in the morning.
Warren: Never a better time then, huh?
Van: Go away. Come back tomorrow.
Van shuts the door and goes back to his bed, but Warren is at the window grinning at his trainer.
Van: Gah! What are ye doin’?!
Warren: Can you please please please give me a quest?
Van: Bloomin’ ‘ell leave me alone! Here take this quest journal and come back tomorrow! Let me sleep!
In the meantime, at the Sanitarium...
Valin: I’ve come to seek your wisdom.
Mhenlo: Unfortunately, I’m not the trainer you’re looking for. Ciglo is the one you’re looking for.
Valin: Where’s he?
Mhenlo points to a singing, dancing man carrying a soda bottle around and slurring at all the passerby.
Valin: But he’s a drunk.
Mhenlo: Actually, he just had a lot of sugar.
Valin: Please teach me instead.
Mhenlo: I’m sorry, but Ciglo is your designated trainer. However, I feel we are destined to cross paths again quite soon and...hey where are you going?
Valin: To the pub.
And so, with the training sessions more or less complete for the majority of the new Ascalon recruits, only a few stragglers are left to be trained into the rites of combat...in the meantime, the Charr are grilling away like mad while Swordfur pleads with the other heroes to follow through with a new plan to defeat the humans...one hero in particular seems to be very interested.
And deep in the forest, the wayward minion stumbles into a dark cave occupied by a bear. A bear with a fire staff. Together, they dance the night away. And near Piken Square, a top secret operative eyes the Charr Altar...
Solid Strider. (He’s real!)
He takes out his quill and parchment and begins to write.
“Octagon, come in Octagon. We’ve got a situation here. What I thought was a simple scouting mission turned out to be something way bigger. The Charr have erected a huge altar and I need to know what it’ll take to blow something up of that size. My location is in the Northlands, so send in the soot covered child north to northeast this time. Solid Strider out. Oh and by the way, tell the Colonel I haven’t found Wooden Gear yet.”
The legendary spy folds the parchment into a paper airplane and launches it into the darkness. He then opens a crumpled note he’s read time and time again:
“Strider, this is Octagon. I’ll get the information on Wooden Gear as soon as possible.”
Solid Strider, sighing: I wish there was a faster way to communicate. Damn this is slow.
Next time on Flameseeker Parodies, learn all about why monsters have pockets full of gold. And why they had pockets to begin with.
Chapter 5
The ominous altar stares across the horizon in a blank stupor, ready to be filled by the magics of experienced Charr shamans. It has sucked the very essence from the wildlife around it, leaving the trees dead and rotting, the ground caked and dry, and leaving the air with a sulfurous smell. The Charr have recently erected this foul structure to worship their powerful gods but already the corruption sinks deep into the roots of the earth. The empty altar is now filled with mystical blue fire, crackling in the still sky, barely a single cloud moving across the far greater shadow of this mysterious shrine...
Charr Shaman 1: <Who brought the steaks?>
Charr Warrior 1: <I got them, I got them!>
Charr Shaman 2: <Let’s fire this baby up!>
Charr Shaman 3: <This has got to be the biggest grill we have ever constructed. The titans should be pleased by our offering of Skale bacon, skale sirloin, skale chops, skale bones, skale buffalo wings, and skaled skale.>
Charr Warrior 2: <I think we used too much propane, the flame shouldn’t be this blue.>
As the meat begins to sizzle on the grill, a great warrior looms into view.
Swordfur Pissesrazors: <Stop my brothers! A grave tradegy has occured! My sons, they have all been killed by the humans!>
Charr Shaman 1: <Do we really need to hear depressing news now? We’re just starting our grilling party. It’s gonna go all night long.>
Charr Warrior 1: <The titans demand it!>
Swordfur: <No! Whoever has been translating the ancient scrolls doesn’t know a thing about the language of the titans! This is not what they want from us!>
Charr Shaman 1: <No one has been following any scrolls or ancient verse here.>
Swordfur: <What, you mean you all just decided to have a barbeque?>
Charr Shaman 2: <That’s right.>
Swordfur: <Using a sacred altar?>
Charr Warrior 1: <We used the wood from our Titan statues to make the skewers for our mixed meat sticks too. Want to try one? They’re fantastic.>
Swordfur: <So that’s why the Titans only have one leg now... Look! That’s not important! I have a better idea! Something that will truly please the Titans and finally finish this war once and for all! We must use...>
Charr Shaman 1: <...the forbidden sauce?>
Swordfur: <Stop thinking about food! Listen, we must gather our strongest heroes together and use forbidden magic, yes, magic to make the humans fall to their knees! My son’s lives must be avenged!>
Charr Warrior 2: <Swordfur, I couldn’t help but notice your axe is stuck in a large chunk of wood. In fact, it looks like an entire tree.>
Swordfur: <Yes, yes. This is true. I couldn’t get it out, so I’ll just wield it as is. I’m strong enough for such a task.>
Oakheart: ...aaahh...help...meee....
And so, while the Charr plan something absolutely delicious and diabolical at the same time, let’s see what the Ascalonians are up to.
Monk Training Session, Part 2
Ciglo: Don’t worry, the scarring should be gone when your flesh regrows. Eventually.
Monk 1: Thank you Brother Ciglo...
Mhenlo: If I wasn’t here praying to Dwayna today, you all would have died. Except for Brother Ciglo, who was kind enough to cast Healing Breeze, Shield of Regeneration, Mending, Life Bond, Protective Spirit, Vital Blessing, Reversal of Fortune, and Shielding Hands on himself. He also found enough time to buy himself a soda while I hurried to save all of you.
Monk 2: Brother Ciglo did his best, Mhenlo. We must not blame but instead forgive.
Ciglo burps.
Mhenlo: Yes, yes. You’re right. A shame about Howland though. He was too badly burned to save. I tried to resurrect him but when his freshly slain corpse regained life...he just set himself on fire again.
Monk 3: Thank you for showing us all of those wonderful skills Brother Mhenlo. Condition removal is surely a must for our travels. I think I speak for all of us when I say we owe you our lives and thanks.
Ciglo: Yah don’t speak for me.
Monk 2: Please don’t be so callous Ciglo.
Ciglo: Condition removal shmooval. Enchantments are where it’s at. That’s what keeps you going.
Mhenlo: You can stop maintaining them now Ciglo. You’re not in any danger.
Ciglo: I’ll keep them on me for the time being, thank you very much. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to go and buy myself another drink.
Ciglo walks off into town.
Monk 1, sighing: There goes a confident healer.
Mhenlo: His confidence is so great I fear that he might fall into a trap one of these days...
Monk 2: One more enchantment and I don’t even think any oxygen would be able to go into his lungs.
Ciglo, shouting from a distance: Ow, I stubbed my f-cking toe!
Warrior Training Session, Part 2
Without knowing, the mesmers have been surrounded by a pack of warriors eager to hone their skills. Van whispers to his men reassuringly, going over the plan of attack as horses gently snort within the stable, mixing their sounds with the screams of horrified mesmers and an increasingly panicked Sebedoh.
Van: Alright, ‘ere’s what we’re gonna do lads. I want ya two ta sprint into the stable ‘n open all the stable doors, then the second wave will smack the horses ‘n run away causing them to get angry and possibly stampede, eh? The last team I want ta use the blunt end o their weapons ‘n hit every mesmer in the face, stomach, balls, knees, anywhere ya want lads I don’t really give a damn.
Warrior 1: What if we kill one of them, sir?
Van: Ye’ve all got resurrection signets right lads?
All of the warriors laugh loudly.
Warrior 2: Of course not!
Van: Atta boy! Who cares what ‘appens ta mesmers? No one even knows what they’re really used for! Now go on, show me what ya all be capable of! Except for you laddie. I’ve yet ta see a beard grow from yer chin.
Female Warrior: Yy-yes sir!
The first team of warriors rushes in and does as instructed, smashing the doors open and opening the stables, pushing mesmers out of the way and laughing giddily. One of them runs into a wall, narrowly missing the exit. He is knocked unconscious. His last thought is why the wall didn’t move out of his way as the second wave goes in to irritate the horses. One of the mesmers is kicked to the other end of the barn when one of the steeds thrusts out its hind legs. ‘Ol Flatulence was unfortunately slapped in the ass, which caused his bowels to roar into action. Suffice to say, the area of effect damage was all encompassing and it’ll take years to wipe the stench from the stable clean.
The last wave comes in and starts to bash the living crap out of the remaining mesmers still standing on their feet.
Warrior 6: Have at thee!
Panicking, the mesmer about to be hit conjures up a nightmare that thankfully hits the victim and not the caster. The warrior stops and drops his sword, gaping into the empty field brimming through the open door.
Warrior 6: No...no! My worst fears have come true! It’s a full battalion of first century literature I never wanted to read! And they’re galloping on paper ponies carrying rubber knives! Oh by the—huh?
Alas, the spell only lasted five seconds and the warrior sees the mesmer trying to tiptoe away. Subsequently, the warrior uses his fist to give the mesmer a migraine. This one isn’t so much a hex as it is a condition. A very nasty, nasty condition.
Elementalist Training Session, Part 2
We find the group of Elementalists safe and sound in a more peaceful part of the forest, where the thick smoke is a faint trail in the afternoon sky. But who saved them in their time of need? None other than...
The Real Howland: So you see, that was just a babbling idiot that went insane and ran off into the wilds two years ago. I’m surprised you all came across him when you did. Very bad luck I’d have to say. But I managed to find my students just before that section of the forest collapsed on you all! Ha! Now that’s the good kind of luck we all need these days right?
Elementalist 1: We thought we were goners when those level 1 Burning Squirrels started throwing melting acorns at us.
Elementalist 2: How did the imposter go insane?
Howland: He had tripped over a root and scratched his knee.
Elementalist 2: That’s it?!
Howland: Then a snake bit him in the other knee.
Elementalist 2: Hmm...
Howland: Then as he was getting up, a badger crapped on his robes.
Elementalist 2: Oh, okay...well...
Howland: Then a bear ambled over and mauled him. Took all of his gold and a valuable fire staff. Smart bear, I think.
Elementalist 2: Alright, I understand now.
Howland: Then two more snakes bit him.
Elementalist 2: ...
Howland: And a mongoose. I was very surprised it went after him and not the snakes. Anyway, after that for some strange reason he thought that the forest was laughing at him and he just kind of wandered off, mumbling something about seeking medical attention. I don’t really care for that kind of conversation, so I let him be. I’m a pyromancer, not a monk. So! Here’s your first real lesson.
Elementalist 1: Finally! That guy was nuts but you seem perfectly alright. What’s first on our list, great mage?
Howland: Lesson one. How to burn down a forest calmly, and properly. Always start with the tallest tree in sigh and work your way down, making sure to set fire to the wildlife so they can spread it as they run around in pure agony.
Elementalist 3: Hey chaps, this makes perfect sense! I think I’m finally starting to get it!
Howland: Lesson two will be blaming it on the rangers, but we’ll get to that once we’ve had practice with the first part, okay?
And so the first tree is set ablaze...
Necromancer Training Session, Part 2
Verata: This clearing is absolutely perfect my foolish henchmen. Look at all the wolves just ambling around waiting for their demise.
Necromancer 1: Yeah, I always wondered why all the wildlife always moved about so slowly and without purpose. Even when you get close to them they still just kind of shift from place to place, aimlessly moving in a random pattern.
Verata: Enough thoughts my young one, you might hurt your fragile mind. Now go out my minions, and kill those wolves so that I may show you all how to raise their corpses to create horrific creations. The mark of a true necromancer.
All Necromancers: Yes my master!
Verata: What was that?
Necromancer 2: Oh, do we really have to say it?
Verata: Yes!
All Necromancers: Yes my mighty master of death, whom all living things tremble for he commands the very leylines of Grenth’s unstoppable power, he who chills the bones of warriors shut, he who rips the strength from holy monks, he who...
Necromancer 3: Master, the wolves are starting to leave the area.
Verata: Oh very well! You can all finish my proper title later. Go forth and kill those vicious creatures!
Necromancer 1: But you haven’t taught us any skills yet, master.
Verata, sighing: Fine. Here, take these barbed signets. Use them on the wolves and stop complaining.
Necromancer 2: I don’t want to pick that up. It’s got barbs all over it.
Verata, annoyed: That’s the point.
Necromancer 2: How is it supposed to be wielded?
Verata deftly picks up one of the signets without hurting himself and places it firmly into the inquiring Necromancer’s hands. He screams in pain as the barbs dig into his skin.
Verata: There. Now go flail around like an idiot until you hit something.
And so the small group of necromancers, under the guidance of their trainer, take their signets and begin trying to kill the wolves. Many of them die in the process, victims of rabid teeth marks, deep claw wounds, and massive blood loss due to barbed signets firmly lodged in their hands. The few that survive triumphantly return to Verata. He yawns at the aftermath.
Verata: Alright, now stand back and watch in amazement.
The necromancers all run and hide behind a grove of trees.
Verata: You don’t have to go that far back you fools. It won’t kill you.
They all seem hesitant but they agree to go back to their trainer. Using his immense power, Verata focuses his mind on one of the fresh corpses and lowers his hands to the body, slowly moving his fingers to create a wave of deathly force that rushes into the cadaver and rips it back into existence, the flesh ripping itself off as the bones reassemble and warp to create something truly shambling and terrifying. A bone minion. It stares blankly at the master who created it.
Verata: A rather simple creation, but a good start. You must all focus your darkest thoughts to the forefront of your mind and then release them gently through the fingertips to power the body, then use forceful movements of the arms to bring it into animation. You! I want you to try first.
The necromancer nods and focuses on his corpse. He stares intently, moving his fingers to and fro, until he finally musters enough willpower to bring his own ghastly creation into being. Verata looks intrigued at what was wrought.
Verata: Interesting. You animated the wolf’s...jaws. What kind of thoughts were you using to power your spell?
The little minion skitters away into the forest as the necromancer blushes.
Necromancer 1: I have poor dental coverage.
Verata: A foul thought indeed, but not foul enough. You! Try next.
And so the second necromancer conjures his animation spell, with similar results. Verata is a bit less intrigued and a lot more disgusted this time around.
Verata: Yes, yes. That’s all well and good, but a minion made out of a wolf’s testicles won’t do the trick. I’m not even going to wonder about what thoughts you were thinking of when you summoned that into being. Next failure please.
The third necromancer seems confident, and selects his corpse carefully.
Verata: If I see another undead genital, one of you will die. So choose your thoughts carefully.
The necromancer nods and does his spell. The minion that arises seems to be perfect, an exact copy of Verata’s. The trainer eyes the creation with a raised brow, incredulous.
Verata: Is it possible that after all these batches of idiots one student with potential somehow made it into my midst?
The minion walks up to Verata and raises its arms. The master necromancer prepares himself to counterattack, but instead of starting an assault, the minion gives Verata a warm, gooey hug. Then it starts to dance.
Verata: And this is what happens when you combine sadistic thoughts with happy ones. You fail. You’re all the worst lot of minion masters I’ve ever seen. Get out of my sight.
The minion seems to understand the necromancer’s harsh words, and shrugs. It turns to its masters and gives a horrific grimace that resembles a smile. It waves good-bye and walks off into the forest.
Mesmer Training Session, Part 2
There’s not much to say here. The mesmers went off to the Sanitarium to get treated by the monks but were attacked by a rouge bull on their way there. The badly battered and bruised mesmers tried to defend themselves by throwing signets at the beast, but to no avail. Some of them were knocked into tree branches, struck down and stamped on, or laughed at by the bandits watching. The remaining survivors went back to Ascalon City as Sebedoh tried to reassure them that this happens every year and that eventually they would learn a spell or two.
Total number of causalities: Five mesmers. Ten pairs of pants. Three masks. Six silk shirts. A skale that happened to be trampled by a tiny little pony as it splashed about the river.
Ranger Training Session, Part 2
Ranger 1: I swear I’m not lying! I just saw a pair of testicles scurry over to that tree stump over there!
Artemis: You’re being foolish, now calm down. Before we track the cause of all these forest fires, I want you all to learn something important: how to charm and tame an animal companion. Now, I know some rangers use advanced methods like wearing a provocative dress and using animal mating calls, but for beginners its best to just use meat, berries, or something shiny. Come to think of it, that method will probably last you all your life. So forget I ever said anything about dresses.
Ranger 2: Okay.
Artemis: I DON’T CROSS DRESS EVERY FRIDAY AND HIT ON WARRIORS IN BARS! STOP ACCUSING ME!
Ranger 2: No one was...
Ranger 1: I’m starting to lose it. I just saw a full set of teeth clattering after the testicles.
Artemis: Over here is a serene clearing where a lot of wolves are usually found. It’s very remote so the wildlife should be observed carefully. No sudden movements, and remember to...to...
Ranger 3: What the hell...?
The rangers all file out into the clearing to find several human corpses and dozens of slaughtered wolves.
Artemis: Oookkkaayyyy. No target practice because someone burned down that part of the forest, no animal charming because all of the animals are dead and now we’ve got another fire brewing to the south over there where our wilderness survival test used to be.
Ranger 3: What now?
Artemis: We track down the bastards who did this. And we put an arrow through each of their hearts.
Ranger 1: I don’t even know how to notch my bow yet.
Artemis: Alright, fine. You’re all dismissed I’m going after them alone.
Artemis, in a calm fury runs off deep into the woods, leaving his students behind. They all turn to look at each other.
Ranger 2: Uh...does anyone know how to get back to Ascalon from here?
They all shake their heads.
Ranger 2: Great. We’re dead.
And back at the castle courtyard...
Prince Rurik: I must get this sword out of the stone! No one is watching so I can use my secret method...perhaps that’s what my father wants me to do. To use my cunning!
Prince Rurik has brought a chisel and hammer with him and so he begins to chip away at the rock while occassionally blowing his trumpet to keep his own morale up. A few soldiers pass by as they patrol the yard and they all agree the young prince has lost his mind. Finally, after afternoon had given way to dusk and dusk to night, Prince Rurik releases enough of the sword to pull it out...only to reveal...
Prince Rurik: But, but! This is just the hilt of a sword! How can this be?!
Just then, the squire walks by with a pot of glue. He quickly conceals it when he sees the prince kneeled over the stone. Rurik turns to the squire.
Prince Rurik: Squire! What has happened to my father’s legendary sword? Have the ages ravaged it beyond repair?
Squire: Ah, no actually. He took the blade part to get it shined at the blacksmith’s.
Prince Rurik: Oh.
Squire: Yeah, he has me make a new rock mold every week. You know how it is.
Prince Rurik: Indeed. Well, I suppose I’ll just...keep using my dragon sword. The one that doesn’t bloody work.
Squire: Might I offer a suggestion?
Prince Rurik: What?
Squire: Press the “on” button.
Prince Rurik: This sword has a button?
Squire: Well yeah. I mean, what? You thought the sword just always blazed away? How could anyone sheathe or store it properly if it didn’t have an off switch?
Prince Rurik fumbles around with his sword until he finds the on switch. It makes clicking sounds like a lighter on a stove would, but fails to light.
Squire: Looks like it needs some more fluid.
Prince Rurik: Damn it! Lighter fluid is so expensive ever since Orr blew up.
And back at the town, Van the warrior is awakened by the loud and somewhat obnoxious knocking of his door. He grumbles as he shuffles over to the front entrance and opens it to reveal an excited Warren, hammer still dripping wet with blood.
Van: What do ye want lad?
Warren: I’ve come for my training session, sir!
Van: It’s two in the morning.
Warren: Never a better time then, huh?
Van: Go away. Come back tomorrow.
Van shuts the door and goes back to his bed, but Warren is at the window grinning at his trainer.
Van: Gah! What are ye doin’?!
Warren: Can you please please please give me a quest?
Van: Bloomin’ ‘ell leave me alone! Here take this quest journal and come back tomorrow! Let me sleep!
In the meantime, at the Sanitarium...
Valin: I’ve come to seek your wisdom.
Mhenlo: Unfortunately, I’m not the trainer you’re looking for. Ciglo is the one you’re looking for.
Valin: Where’s he?
Mhenlo points to a singing, dancing man carrying a soda bottle around and slurring at all the passerby.
Valin: But he’s a drunk.
Mhenlo: Actually, he just had a lot of sugar.
Valin: Please teach me instead.
Mhenlo: I’m sorry, but Ciglo is your designated trainer. However, I feel we are destined to cross paths again quite soon and...hey where are you going?
Valin: To the pub.
And so, with the training sessions more or less complete for the majority of the new Ascalon recruits, only a few stragglers are left to be trained into the rites of combat...in the meantime, the Charr are grilling away like mad while Swordfur pleads with the other heroes to follow through with a new plan to defeat the humans...one hero in particular seems to be very interested.
And deep in the forest, the wayward minion stumbles into a dark cave occupied by a bear. A bear with a fire staff. Together, they dance the night away. And near Piken Square, a top secret operative eyes the Charr Altar...
Solid Strider. (He’s real!)
He takes out his quill and parchment and begins to write.
“Octagon, come in Octagon. We’ve got a situation here. What I thought was a simple scouting mission turned out to be something way bigger. The Charr have erected a huge altar and I need to know what it’ll take to blow something up of that size. My location is in the Northlands, so send in the soot covered child north to northeast this time. Solid Strider out. Oh and by the way, tell the Colonel I haven’t found Wooden Gear yet.”
The legendary spy folds the parchment into a paper airplane and launches it into the darkness. He then opens a crumpled note he’s read time and time again:
“Strider, this is Octagon. I’ll get the information on Wooden Gear as soon as possible.”
Solid Strider, sighing: I wish there was a faster way to communicate. Damn this is slow.
Next time on Flameseeker Parodies, learn all about why monsters have pockets full of gold. And why they had pockets to begin with.
Brother Doug
Hahaha, this is excellent. Wonderfully funny.
Yoom Omer
That was good.
Very good.
Very good.
Morgoroth
Absolutely perfect, what else to say?
Just a bit curious about Ciglo casting Life Bond on himself ^^
Just a bit curious about Ciglo casting Life Bond on himself ^^
deyond driven
This is top quality comic writing very well done on it all, given me many laughs
Aleks
LOL! Awesome! I eagerly anticipate your next chapter!
Government Flu
Finishing touches on the sixth chapter are underway. Be sure to take part in the interactive part at the end.
Thanks for your continued support everyone!
Thanks for your continued support everyone!
Government Flu
Guild Wars Flameseeker Parodies
Chapter Six
Excerpt from the Ascalon Strategy Companion:
“...which is why soufflé monsters should be avoided at all costs.
Now that you’ve familiarized yourself with the preface regarding on why some monsters will tear you into tiny assorted shapes and sizes, it’s time to explain monster loot. Picture this scenario: After a terrifying battle against a level 0 Skale Tadpole, you notice that he drops a water wand. Now, what was a Skale doing with a water wand? How did it get there to begin with? Why didn’t you see it until the monster was killed? Here are the explanations:
First of all, most indigenous creatures have evolved fleshy pouches which they use to store food or gold coins. (Or smaller, cuter versions of themselves.) Many of the lower level creatures can’t distinguish between actual sustenance and coin, so they vainly eat any gold they happen to find lying around in the hopes they won’t starve.
When they die, the smarter monsters eat the stupid one that starved to death, and store the gold they found on its body within their fleshy “pockets.” It is the general belief among scholars that the items stocked inside their pouches once meant to hold some future purpose for them, but they had really short attention spans and forgot they were carrying a staff or sword, preferring to wander aimlessly in a fixed trajectory silently awaiting death at the hands of a skilled fighter, or in the case of low level creatures, children frolicking in the fields.
As for human beings such as bandits or humanoid creatures like those funny looking dwarves, they merely keep their prized belongings on their persons at all times. It is commonly believed soldiers take sacks of gold into battle to throw up into the air when they achieve victory. Scholars world over believe this practice is completely retarded. But what about the enemies you’ll encounter that are classified as “Bosses?”
Excerpt from Vanguard Casualty Report:
“...the pancakes, therefore, were exceptional. Now on to more somber news.
The recent skirmish outside of Piken Square has given Prince Rurik’s Vanguard a critical blow. Battlefield deaths are reported to be nearly tallied, but initial estimates have our total at ten highly trained warriors and one veteran monk dead. We are still placing heads and other assorted limbs to what appear to be their proper bodies. Suffice to say, we have a few spare legs we have no idea what to do with. Prince Rurik is safe and sound, having retreated at an unknown time to an unknown location. At our current standing, we have three warriors and one ranger left at the Vanguard’s disposal. We have not counted the ranger’s Melandru Stalker, Claws, since it is dying from feline leukemia.
The ranger has not yet been notified and oddly enough remains oblivious of his companion’s condition. We are going to review his competence soon.
As for the equipment recovered...”
Official Letter From King Adelbern, addressed to Northern Wall Command Post.
“My loyal subjects, it has come to my attention that the Charr have erected a strange altar in the nearby wilderness and it greatly concerns me. This new camp seems to be directly positioned in the middle of the pastry caravan’s delivery route. I must stress the importance of getting my sweets delivered to me on time; else I will be forced to replace the entire Northern Command Chain with senile old men to save money. (For expensive local sweets.)
While I skimmed your detailed report about how glorious the campaign is going against the Charr, I must remain reserved about our chances if the enemy is able to cut off my imported cake supply. Therefore, I will be sending in the entire Southern force to assist your men with overseeing the new pastry deliveries. They aren’t too busy, something about securing an old bunker near Fort Ranik so the Charr don’t sneak in or some such rubbish! Enclosed in this letter is also an autographed picture of myself, which will surely give you all a massive morale boost.
Lastly, I would like to invite you all to a grand gala ball I’m throwing tonight to celebrate our costly but viciously successful war against the Charr. You needn’t worry about your posts or finding replacements, as I’m sure the Charr will respect our right to have a day off from battle.
King Adelbern,
May the Wall Stand. Regardless of condition!
Northern Gate Captain: I thought my letter depicted how horrible the war was going for us?
Soldier: Why do I feel weakened staring at this picture...?
Northern Gate Captain: Put it in the storage chest over there, quick! Before it saps more of our strength!
Excerpt from new transmission, Octagon:
Strider? Strider?! STTTTRRRRIIIDDDDEEEERRRR!
Solid Strider: ...Great. He thinks I’m dead. But...why?
Just then!
Rustling of the leaves and nearby bushes.
Solid Strider: What was that sound?
Just then!
More rustling. Some annoyed mumbling.
Solid Strider: Who is it? Show yourselves!
Just then!
A man jumps out of the bushes and falls flat on his face. He quickly recovers, brushes the grass off his cape and glares.
Mysterious Man: So, it looks like SKALEHOUND sent their retired old lackey? You were a fool to try and stop the Charr, Sna—uh, Strider!
Solid Strider: Recurver Bowcelot?!
Recurver Bowcelot: That’s right Snak—damn it—Strider! Remember this?
Recurver Bowcelot pulls up his pants to reveal a scratched knee.
Solid Strider: What about it?
Recurver Bowcelot: It hurt! I almost cried because of you, Strider! Now it’s your turn.
Solid Strider: To what, cry?
Recurver Bowcelot: No, no. It’s much simpler than that. I’m going to kill you, and then take Meta—err, Iron Gear!
Solid Strider: Iron Gear? But the Gear is made out of wood. I heard it’s not even that effective. Very flammable. Probably not a good weapon to begin with.
Recurver Bowcelot: No matter! I can’t be stopped! Prepare to die!
Just then, a paper airplane flies into Strider’s lap. Bowcelot eyes it as Strider unfolds it and reads...
Strider! I’m glad you’re okay. Listen, you have to watch out for Recurver Bow’s multi shot attack. Duck behind the trees when you see him notching his black arrow, that’s your first tip off.
Try to aim at the feather in his hair; he seems to have some kind of attachment to it. If you knock it down, it should distract him long enough to use your best skills against him. When he gets to around half health, he’ll start ducking behind the bushes and shooting at you from under cover, so make sure to find a safe spot to lie low, then fire away when he starts making some kind of wiseass comment—that’s the sign he’s reloading.
Oh, and when he’s about to die, the battle will stop and Grey Lynx will cut his arm off. Good luck, Strider!
Bowcelot looks over Strider’s shoulder and reads all of this as the message is wrapped back up.
Recurver Bowcelot: How does this Octagon guy know so much about me?
Solid Strider: I don’t know, but you read the end, right? Your arm’s going to get lopped off, so let’s go!
Recurver Bowcelot: Ah, you know what? Screw that. I’ll uh, look for Wooden Gear somewhere else. This isn’t over Strider!
Some more mumbling and rustling of the bushes as Bowcelot disappears.
Solid Strider, sighing: Sometimes I get the feeling my life is one giant parody of something that doesn’t even belong in this time period or setting.
Excerpt from Ascalon Strategy Companion:
“...so the boss’s weapon might be stuck to the body’s cold dead fingers, in which case the person who killed this powerful creature or human, can’t take their rare and unique weapon for their own use.
It is as of yet unknown why the weapon can’t always just be pried out. As one unnamed adventurer once exclaimed: It makes no goddamn sense. None at all. I mean, the f-cking sword is right there. Why can’t I just take it? WHY?! I mean, I f-cking killed the guy like, forty times! And for that matter, why the f-ck is he still alive, time and time again?! Why?! Why?!”
Now that we’ve explained monster loot, let’s talk about why they will always be a higher level than you and why you should be very intimidated and horrified at that fact. You see, adventurers can’t possibly break out of the confined realm of “level 20” mastery. (The theorized “level” of power that takes “experience points” to gain.) This explanation may seem as though our entire lives revolve around some bizarre kind of game where everything is boiled down to floating numbers in the sky and statistics.
But that’s just silly.”
And back in the outskirts of Ascalon City...
6am.
Warren: Quest quest quest quest!
Van: Shuddap! Lemee get some sleep!
Warren: Come on! I want to do something for the good of our country!
Van loses his temper, grabs Warren’s quest journal, and writes down “Your activity for today is to kill a bunch of Skale. Now leave me alone for 50 gold and “magical experience points, oooo!”.” Warren reads the hastily scribbled note and nods.
Warren: You won’t be disappointed!
When Warren gets near the riverbed, he sees a demonstration involving a bunch of hippie rangers. They’re waving placards and launching flowers from their bows.
Ranger Activist 1: We need to save the Skale man; they’re the future of this ecosystem!
Ranger Activist 2: Yeah man, those Skale never hurt anybody, they just splash around in the water, it’s just not fair!
Ranger Activist 3: We gotta respect nature and its harmless creatures... stop all the pain now!
Warren looks at the Skale swimming in the river and then back at the ranger activists. He opens his quest log again. He hastily reads the quest in a very wrong way: “Kill a bunch of skale activists for today.”
YYAAARRRR!
Ranger Activist 1: Yeah man, lay down that hammer and come join us, let all your frustration just slid—ow man that hurts, omigod man, my head, ow! Oh dude, my nose, you broke my...
A few minutes later, at the Abbey.
Ranger Activist 4: Somebody help us man! There’s some crazy warrior dude killing everyone!
Ciglo: Time to cast Life Bond on myself again!
Valin: How does that help you?
Ciglo: Well, I cast it on myself so whenever I take damage, I take half of the damage instead, but since it’s cast on me instead of someone else, that damage is reflected to a nearby ally, giving them one hundred percent of the damage, which saves me from any damage at all.
Valin: ...Look, that’s not important. Right now, there’s a madman out there killing our citizens and we need to heal them before it’s too late! Now! Are you going to teach me or not?
Ciglo: Eh. I was going to go down to Ascalon City anyway. To throw bane signets at necromancers. They’re pretty much worthless, so they make good rocks. Want to do that instead?
Valin: Tempting, but we should help the innocent first.
Ciglo: Let me get a pack of smokes and then we’re off.
Next time on Flameseeker Parodies, less paragraphs, almost no reference to Skale, and more lines from main characters! But before you’re free to go, you really should take this quiz. Hand in your paper when the bell rings.
Pop Quiz Time:
Q. Why do monsters drop gold and other loot?
1. They plunder, pillage, and burn all they find.
2. They have fleshy pockets developed through evolution.
3. It was put there by the Five Gods of Tyria for sh-ts and giggles.
Q. Why do Bosses have a glowing aura?
1. They got really drunk and ate too many glow sticks during the last rave party.
2. They are advertising a possible elite skill.
3. They are green/orange/cyan/purple etc. with envy.
Q. What is the best way to describe an adventurer’s mastery of skills?
1. As they use their weapons and travel, they gain “experience” and enter new “levels” of training until they have learned all they can.
2. There’s a little bar up in the sky with our name on it and the voices inside our heads notify us when we get stronger.
3. I kill enemies, therefore I level up.
Q. What is the next pop culture to be referenced in this parody?
1. I hope it’s Mary Poppins.
2. Final Fantasy 7.
3. Guild Wars: Ear of the South.
Q. Why do bosses rarely drop green weapons?
1. They don’t like me.
2. Jesus doesn’t like me.
3. I still haven’t traded my soul to Satan for a tormented weapon.
Q. Why is that NPC never attacked by monsters?
1. He has sausages in his pockets.
2. He hasn’t showered in two years. Stench unbearable.
3. He’s right next to a resurrection shrine. What’s the point?
Q. What is the Death Penalty?
1. A constant reminder of your failure.
2. Something I don’t support.
3. A free ride to your starting location.
Q. Why are Soufflé Monsters dangerous?
1. They’re invisible.
2. They do 800 damage per hit.
3. I have no idea, but I hope I never come across one of those.
Correct answers, in order: 2, 3, 1, 3, 1, 2, 3, 3.
8 correct: The Grand Defender of The Wall
7 correct: Elite Charr Slayer
6 correct: Fort Ranik Lieutenant
5 correct: Vanguard Veteran
4 correct: Ascalon Soldier
3 correct: Town Guard
2 correct: Beaver
1 correct: Mesmer
0 correct: Dead mesmer
Post your rank and boast away!
Chapter Six
Excerpt from the Ascalon Strategy Companion:
“...which is why soufflé monsters should be avoided at all costs.
Now that you’ve familiarized yourself with the preface regarding on why some monsters will tear you into tiny assorted shapes and sizes, it’s time to explain monster loot. Picture this scenario: After a terrifying battle against a level 0 Skale Tadpole, you notice that he drops a water wand. Now, what was a Skale doing with a water wand? How did it get there to begin with? Why didn’t you see it until the monster was killed? Here are the explanations:
First of all, most indigenous creatures have evolved fleshy pouches which they use to store food or gold coins. (Or smaller, cuter versions of themselves.) Many of the lower level creatures can’t distinguish between actual sustenance and coin, so they vainly eat any gold they happen to find lying around in the hopes they won’t starve.
When they die, the smarter monsters eat the stupid one that starved to death, and store the gold they found on its body within their fleshy “pockets.” It is the general belief among scholars that the items stocked inside their pouches once meant to hold some future purpose for them, but they had really short attention spans and forgot they were carrying a staff or sword, preferring to wander aimlessly in a fixed trajectory silently awaiting death at the hands of a skilled fighter, or in the case of low level creatures, children frolicking in the fields.
As for human beings such as bandits or humanoid creatures like those funny looking dwarves, they merely keep their prized belongings on their persons at all times. It is commonly believed soldiers take sacks of gold into battle to throw up into the air when they achieve victory. Scholars world over believe this practice is completely retarded. But what about the enemies you’ll encounter that are classified as “Bosses?”
Excerpt from Vanguard Casualty Report:
“...the pancakes, therefore, were exceptional. Now on to more somber news.
The recent skirmish outside of Piken Square has given Prince Rurik’s Vanguard a critical blow. Battlefield deaths are reported to be nearly tallied, but initial estimates have our total at ten highly trained warriors and one veteran monk dead. We are still placing heads and other assorted limbs to what appear to be their proper bodies. Suffice to say, we have a few spare legs we have no idea what to do with. Prince Rurik is safe and sound, having retreated at an unknown time to an unknown location. At our current standing, we have three warriors and one ranger left at the Vanguard’s disposal. We have not counted the ranger’s Melandru Stalker, Claws, since it is dying from feline leukemia.
The ranger has not yet been notified and oddly enough remains oblivious of his companion’s condition. We are going to review his competence soon.
As for the equipment recovered...”
Official Letter From King Adelbern, addressed to Northern Wall Command Post.
“My loyal subjects, it has come to my attention that the Charr have erected a strange altar in the nearby wilderness and it greatly concerns me. This new camp seems to be directly positioned in the middle of the pastry caravan’s delivery route. I must stress the importance of getting my sweets delivered to me on time; else I will be forced to replace the entire Northern Command Chain with senile old men to save money. (For expensive local sweets.)
While I skimmed your detailed report about how glorious the campaign is going against the Charr, I must remain reserved about our chances if the enemy is able to cut off my imported cake supply. Therefore, I will be sending in the entire Southern force to assist your men with overseeing the new pastry deliveries. They aren’t too busy, something about securing an old bunker near Fort Ranik so the Charr don’t sneak in or some such rubbish! Enclosed in this letter is also an autographed picture of myself, which will surely give you all a massive morale boost.
Lastly, I would like to invite you all to a grand gala ball I’m throwing tonight to celebrate our costly but viciously successful war against the Charr. You needn’t worry about your posts or finding replacements, as I’m sure the Charr will respect our right to have a day off from battle.
King Adelbern,
May the Wall Stand. Regardless of condition!
Northern Gate Captain: I thought my letter depicted how horrible the war was going for us?
Soldier: Why do I feel weakened staring at this picture...?
Northern Gate Captain: Put it in the storage chest over there, quick! Before it saps more of our strength!
Excerpt from new transmission, Octagon:
Strider? Strider?! STTTTRRRRIIIDDDDEEEERRRR!
Solid Strider: ...Great. He thinks I’m dead. But...why?
Just then!
Rustling of the leaves and nearby bushes.
Solid Strider: What was that sound?
Just then!
More rustling. Some annoyed mumbling.
Solid Strider: Who is it? Show yourselves!
Just then!
A man jumps out of the bushes and falls flat on his face. He quickly recovers, brushes the grass off his cape and glares.
Mysterious Man: So, it looks like SKALEHOUND sent their retired old lackey? You were a fool to try and stop the Charr, Sna—uh, Strider!
Solid Strider: Recurver Bowcelot?!
Recurver Bowcelot: That’s right Snak—damn it—Strider! Remember this?
Recurver Bowcelot pulls up his pants to reveal a scratched knee.
Solid Strider: What about it?
Recurver Bowcelot: It hurt! I almost cried because of you, Strider! Now it’s your turn.
Solid Strider: To what, cry?
Recurver Bowcelot: No, no. It’s much simpler than that. I’m going to kill you, and then take Meta—err, Iron Gear!
Solid Strider: Iron Gear? But the Gear is made out of wood. I heard it’s not even that effective. Very flammable. Probably not a good weapon to begin with.
Recurver Bowcelot: No matter! I can’t be stopped! Prepare to die!
Just then, a paper airplane flies into Strider’s lap. Bowcelot eyes it as Strider unfolds it and reads...
Strider! I’m glad you’re okay. Listen, you have to watch out for Recurver Bow’s multi shot attack. Duck behind the trees when you see him notching his black arrow, that’s your first tip off.
Try to aim at the feather in his hair; he seems to have some kind of attachment to it. If you knock it down, it should distract him long enough to use your best skills against him. When he gets to around half health, he’ll start ducking behind the bushes and shooting at you from under cover, so make sure to find a safe spot to lie low, then fire away when he starts making some kind of wiseass comment—that’s the sign he’s reloading.
Oh, and when he’s about to die, the battle will stop and Grey Lynx will cut his arm off. Good luck, Strider!
Bowcelot looks over Strider’s shoulder and reads all of this as the message is wrapped back up.
Recurver Bowcelot: How does this Octagon guy know so much about me?
Solid Strider: I don’t know, but you read the end, right? Your arm’s going to get lopped off, so let’s go!
Recurver Bowcelot: Ah, you know what? Screw that. I’ll uh, look for Wooden Gear somewhere else. This isn’t over Strider!
Some more mumbling and rustling of the bushes as Bowcelot disappears.
Solid Strider, sighing: Sometimes I get the feeling my life is one giant parody of something that doesn’t even belong in this time period or setting.
Excerpt from Ascalon Strategy Companion:
“...so the boss’s weapon might be stuck to the body’s cold dead fingers, in which case the person who killed this powerful creature or human, can’t take their rare and unique weapon for their own use.
It is as of yet unknown why the weapon can’t always just be pried out. As one unnamed adventurer once exclaimed: It makes no goddamn sense. None at all. I mean, the f-cking sword is right there. Why can’t I just take it? WHY?! I mean, I f-cking killed the guy like, forty times! And for that matter, why the f-ck is he still alive, time and time again?! Why?! Why?!”
Now that we’ve explained monster loot, let’s talk about why they will always be a higher level than you and why you should be very intimidated and horrified at that fact. You see, adventurers can’t possibly break out of the confined realm of “level 20” mastery. (The theorized “level” of power that takes “experience points” to gain.) This explanation may seem as though our entire lives revolve around some bizarre kind of game where everything is boiled down to floating numbers in the sky and statistics.
But that’s just silly.”
And back in the outskirts of Ascalon City...
6am.
Warren: Quest quest quest quest!
Van: Shuddap! Lemee get some sleep!
Warren: Come on! I want to do something for the good of our country!
Van loses his temper, grabs Warren’s quest journal, and writes down “Your activity for today is to kill a bunch of Skale. Now leave me alone for 50 gold and “magical experience points, oooo!”.” Warren reads the hastily scribbled note and nods.
Warren: You won’t be disappointed!
When Warren gets near the riverbed, he sees a demonstration involving a bunch of hippie rangers. They’re waving placards and launching flowers from their bows.
Ranger Activist 1: We need to save the Skale man; they’re the future of this ecosystem!
Ranger Activist 2: Yeah man, those Skale never hurt anybody, they just splash around in the water, it’s just not fair!
Ranger Activist 3: We gotta respect nature and its harmless creatures... stop all the pain now!
Warren looks at the Skale swimming in the river and then back at the ranger activists. He opens his quest log again. He hastily reads the quest in a very wrong way: “Kill a bunch of skale activists for today.”
YYAAARRRR!
Ranger Activist 1: Yeah man, lay down that hammer and come join us, let all your frustration just slid—ow man that hurts, omigod man, my head, ow! Oh dude, my nose, you broke my...
A few minutes later, at the Abbey.
Ranger Activist 4: Somebody help us man! There’s some crazy warrior dude killing everyone!
Ciglo: Time to cast Life Bond on myself again!
Valin: How does that help you?
Ciglo: Well, I cast it on myself so whenever I take damage, I take half of the damage instead, but since it’s cast on me instead of someone else, that damage is reflected to a nearby ally, giving them one hundred percent of the damage, which saves me from any damage at all.
Valin: ...Look, that’s not important. Right now, there’s a madman out there killing our citizens and we need to heal them before it’s too late! Now! Are you going to teach me or not?
Ciglo: Eh. I was going to go down to Ascalon City anyway. To throw bane signets at necromancers. They’re pretty much worthless, so they make good rocks. Want to do that instead?
Valin: Tempting, but we should help the innocent first.
Ciglo: Let me get a pack of smokes and then we’re off.
Next time on Flameseeker Parodies, less paragraphs, almost no reference to Skale, and more lines from main characters! But before you’re free to go, you really should take this quiz. Hand in your paper when the bell rings.
Pop Quiz Time:
Q. Why do monsters drop gold and other loot?
1. They plunder, pillage, and burn all they find.
2. They have fleshy pockets developed through evolution.
3. It was put there by the Five Gods of Tyria for sh-ts and giggles.
Q. Why do Bosses have a glowing aura?
1. They got really drunk and ate too many glow sticks during the last rave party.
2. They are advertising a possible elite skill.
3. They are green/orange/cyan/purple etc. with envy.
Q. What is the best way to describe an adventurer’s mastery of skills?
1. As they use their weapons and travel, they gain “experience” and enter new “levels” of training until they have learned all they can.
2. There’s a little bar up in the sky with our name on it and the voices inside our heads notify us when we get stronger.
3. I kill enemies, therefore I level up.
Q. What is the next pop culture to be referenced in this parody?
1. I hope it’s Mary Poppins.
2. Final Fantasy 7.
3. Guild Wars: Ear of the South.
Q. Why do bosses rarely drop green weapons?
1. They don’t like me.
2. Jesus doesn’t like me.
3. I still haven’t traded my soul to Satan for a tormented weapon.
Q. Why is that NPC never attacked by monsters?
1. He has sausages in his pockets.
2. He hasn’t showered in two years. Stench unbearable.
3. He’s right next to a resurrection shrine. What’s the point?
Q. What is the Death Penalty?
1. A constant reminder of your failure.
2. Something I don’t support.
3. A free ride to your starting location.
Q. Why are Soufflé Monsters dangerous?
1. They’re invisible.
2. They do 800 damage per hit.
3. I have no idea, but I hope I never come across one of those.
Correct answers, in order: 2, 3, 1, 3, 1, 2, 3, 3.
8 correct: The Grand Defender of The Wall
7 correct: Elite Charr Slayer
6 correct: Fort Ranik Lieutenant
5 correct: Vanguard Veteran
4 correct: Ascalon Soldier
3 correct: Town Guard
2 correct: Beaver
1 correct: Mesmer
0 correct: Dead mesmer
Post your rank and boast away!
Yoom Omer
AMAZING
man you are good!
man you are good!
Knight of The Shadows
lol. Keep them coming.
summer_goth
Absolutely brilliant! You have a great talent for making one laugh.
Looking forward to the next chapter.
Looking forward to the next chapter.
Brother Doug
Hahaha!
Once again, that was really funny. I love the Metal Gear parody you've thrown in there.
Strider? STRIDER? STRIIIIDEEEEERRR!!!
Once again, that was really funny. I love the Metal Gear parody you've thrown in there.
Strider? STRIDER? STRIIIIDEEEEERRR!!!
Steboy93
Lmao i love your parodies man, keep them comin, i'm a big fan of metal gear so loved the solid strider section
Vanguard Veteran W000000T!!
Vanguard Veteran W000000T!
!
Yoom Omer
Any chapter in the way?
Government Flu
Thank you all for commenting on my latest chapter. I appreciate hearing from new and old fans alike! Sorry for the long delay. The next chapter is coming in a few minutes. Putting the finishing touches on it now.