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Chapter 5 -and a half-
Chapter Five and a Half: The Isle of the Knitters (Or no experience required, please apply within.)
The rolling seas seemed endless to Parry as she hung over the bow of the ship and retched out her guts. Retrospectively she wondered if taking the position of captain without any previous sea experience was such a wise thing. Really, though, it was far too late now to question her decision. They were close to a week out of port, and though they were traveling along the coastline (or at least the first mate assured her that the black line she saw so far off in the distance was indeed the coast) she really did not know how far they had gone, or even how much farther it was until they hit open water and set off on the real adventure; the search for the famed knitting needles was about to begin.
While Parry was busy at the side of the ship, Saeti, who had taken to the ocean much more easily than her friend, bounded up and down the deck, enjoying a game with s
Chapter Five: Transportation (or what happens when the author lets her self become too involved in her own novel)
Every one stared at the squirrel, unsure of exactly what had just taken place, or even if they should really believe their eyes that their magic eight ball, their only source of information, had just vanished into thin air.
"What did you do?!" Cin exclaimed, picking up the small creature by its grayish blue tail.
"I did not do anything, honest!" Feiskar tried to explain, waving his arms for emphasis. "I just asked it a question and it disappeared! Please," there were tears in his eyes now, though whether they were real or just there to save his skin was open for debate, "You have to believe me, I did not do anything!" He looked around at the group, only to find them looking at him skeptically. "Really, would an old squirrel lie to you?" He tried to make himself look as innocent as possible, though
Chapter Four: The Prophecy (or one hundred and one things to do with a magic eight ball)
After a rather leisurely breakfast and a quick jaunt around town for supplies the group was off. Though they were riding, they were making, in Cin's opinion at least, horrible time. Apparently Saeti, now in her wolf form, agreed; she kept racing ahead and disappearing for around fifteen minute intervals. Because she could not longer speak, however, they were all spared endless and mind numbingly boring reports from her every time they saw her again.
A single glance was enough to tell why they were moving so slowly. On the second horse in their little caravan, Parry was knitting. Now, mind you, this was not your ordinary old lady gathering dust knitting. The girl was going at a pace that would set any granny back in her rocker, and she was knitting with a pair of needles in each hand, literally doubling her speed!
When times are darkest
All hope already lost
There shall come heroes
That fight at any cost
To right the wrongs
And fight for truth
They shall be brave
Cunning, and aloof
But their mission
Shall be cut short
Until the time comes
When one of the court
One of the moon
One of the trees
One of the sword
And one of the cheese
Shall come forth
And save the world
From the abominable rule
Of a six year old girl
Chapter Three: The Replacement Chosen Ones (or the chapter in which we meet the second rate replacements that are going to try to revive the chosen ones.)
In the corner of the tavern a lone traveler sipped at his ale. He was not in a good mood this evening, and looking at how events around him seemed to be headed, it did not look like his mood would be getting better any time soon. He moved to the side as an empty pitcher sailed by his head, the ends of his shoulder length black hair. At least they still had the sense to throw empty things. Right now it only seemed to be some really drunk Scotsmen with the bright idea of tossing everything when they had emptied it. That was why all of the dishes were made out of metal, apparently, he mused as he gazed at the reflection of his dark grey eyes in the side of his tankard. He ducked another hurled object, no the real fighting had yet to start, but by the steady increase in fr
Chapter Two: Fallen Heroes (or, the chapter in which the chosen ones get their butts kicked by a little girl.)
As he flew under the gigantic subtitle, Dejwin knew that he had to hurry, for the first and foremost reason that subtitles never lie. Or they do not normally, in any case.
Dejwin glared around, trying to find the mysterious source of the disembodied voice. "So is it lying or not?"
No, it is not lying this time. Please, though, can you try not to be so..so, well obvious when you are talking to me? It generally does not work well when characters talk to the author.
"Well who am I supposed to talk to?" He questioned indignantly, "Mr. Clucky? He might be a mutant, but that does not mean he is a good conversationalist."
Well sorry, I am not just going to insert a random character so that you can have someone to talk to. I have this too well planned out for you to go and make a mess of things by making me d
Vanguard, Chapter 1: DuncanDuncan's Journal: Day 1288
I consider myself a good man. I respect women, elders, my equals, and the dead. I say a morning prayer, and an evening one. Hell, I even thank the gods for a meal, instead of immediately chowing down in the voracious manner as the other soldiers here do. By all logical means, I should be in paradise. No really, not just because I'm a good man, but also because I should be dead by now. So I ask myself: why, oh gods up there, have I ended up in hell?
1288 days. 1288 days of my life have been spent in this misery, and I'm beginning to lose faith in the glory I was promised. Some of the rookies still live in their ignorant bliss, but I've lived long enough to realize that there's not much glory to find here. “Sing the songs of glory and march into battle—-join The Crusade today!”. Such were the words of the posters The Crusade has spread all over The Mortal Realm. Gullible fools practically stand in line for these songs of glory that th
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