Solo's Stupendously Superior Story

[Solo]

In order to prove that pretty much anyone can write better than Panolini, I have decided to write my own story, which I predict will last no more than 15 chapters, and thrity pages. I aim to have a better plot and writing style than the other guy.

I also aim to be better than Panolini by actually listening to criticism and taking feedback into account when writing.


The story will be posted here eventually.

I invite anyone who thinks they can also show up Panolini to write as well. This could be fun.

[Jayngfet]

"Showing up Paloni."

Not aiming high are you, aim a little higher, show up Mookie.

[Chronicled]

"Showing up Paloni."

Not aiming high are you, aim a little higher, show up Mookie.

I'd say he did with his avatar, which is arguably better art than anything Mookie has drawn.

[Echowinds]

The guy that does Dominic Deegan?

His art isn't the worst in webcomic circles, but the fact he barely improved over ~1700 strips is a bit underwhelming.

[Dallas-Dakota]

In order to prove that pretty much anyone can write better than Panolini, I have decided to write my own story, which I predict will last no more than 15 chapters, and thrity pages. I aim to have a better plot and writing style than the other guy.

I also aim to be better than Panolini by actually listening to criticism and taking feedback into account when writing.


The story will be posted here eventually.

I invite anyone who thinks they can also show up Panolini to write as well. This could be fun.

I'l be believe you when you start typing thirty instead of thrity.

[Solo]

I'l be believe you when you start typing thirty instead of thrity.

Thrity is the name of a very large number, FYI.

[Maulrus]

>_>

Your avatar is so much win.

[Solo]

Thanks.

This is for you.

*stab*

---------------------------------------------------------


Chapter One

Spoiler

Show

Chapter 1


Jack cursed at the passing cart which had just splattered him with whatever foul liquid the streets had accumulated early in the morning.

No matter. A little magical cleaning would fix the mess. Magic made the city a little more tolerable. Money, too, helped make up for a lot of shortcomings in city life, among them cramped working spaces, a dingy apartment, streets strewn with sewage, and insufferable supervisors. Aldria was a bit of a mixed bag, but it served him well for now.

Aldria was a port city built on commerce, a veritable metropolis located a sizeable island in the middle of the Starmirror lake. Surrounding this vast inland sea were no less than 5 different countries, all of whom found it worthwhile to route trade through the island nation. The population numbered over two hundred thousand. The food they consumed, clothing they bought, and filth they left behind was a firm testimony to their numbers.

Having grown rich off of trade, the city was able to afford not only the finest mercenaries to protect its interests, but also build impressive temples to the gods that towered over the streets, and finance a reputable mage’s guild and academy.

Though Jack had worked as a mercenary a few years back, devoutly worshipped two gods, and had picked up a bit of magic, worked in none of these fields.

He was instead currently employed by the law firm of Messers Meyers, Meyres, and Meyrs. Jack, who had only begun working for the firm for 7 months, found the work to be bland, but well paying enough to keep his attention.

On one boring, painfully ordinary afternoon, where the only distraction from the endless mountains of text in the offices were the mice scurrying around the dirt floor or perhaps the equally ceaseless scurrying of Master Meyrs, the front door suddenly flew off its hinges and firmly integrated itself into the opposing wall.

The entire office stopped and stared into the now empty door frame.

Jack, who was currently proofreading a tariff agreement with the Lich-King of Southern Kemoran found himself dripping ink onto his robes as what appeared to be a small land mass proceeded to squeeze through the door.

Upon further inspection, it proved to be an enormously muscled man dressed in some rather mossy colored coarse cloth. He gazed around the faces in the cramped office as if searching for someone. His gaze locked onto Jack, and strode over to Jack’s desk. He stationed himself directly in front of it, blocking off all light into Jack’s corner.

“How fare ye in your lodgings in exile, mine good friend! Long has it been since us twain hae drunk together in the memory of our mothers, sisters they be!” It boomed, shaking the offices with its voice. “A after a half-decade of separation and through your I come to exile to greet thee, Cousin!”

Jack put the parchment and pen away and craned his neck upwards at the man.

“Saal, by the infinitely layered Abyss, what in Demogorgon’s name are you talking about, and why in the Nine Hells are you speaking in that sort of language?” Jack asked, embarrassed at the scene. The entire office was watching, and the only thing stopping the manager from going on one of his infamous outbursts was the shock of the situation.

“oh, I’m sorry,” Saal replied sheepishly. “i thought city-people talk like that. first time out from homeland.”

“We’ll work on it, Saal,” Jack groaned, grabbing his cousin by the arm and attempting to lead him out of the office before anything could happen, such as the manager blowing up in their faces.

Unfortunately, fate would not let him get off that easily, and Mr. Meyrs proceeded to huff and puff and scurry over to Jack’s corner.

“What is the MEANING of this INTRUSION? Sir, you are interrupting important WORK here! I must ask you to leave AT ONCE!” His shrill voice rang in Jack’s ears.

“And as for you, Jack, I’ll have you know –“

What it was that Mr. Meyrs would have Jack know, he never found out, for Saal never had much patience to begin with, and being interrupted by some halfling with a speech impediment did not help matters.

He raised one hand and brought it down, and through, the table Jack had been using.

The two halves of the table, combined with Saal’s infamous glare of doom, convinced Mr. Meyrs to resume his silence as Jack quickly grabbed his Haversack and made an exit.

It was just as well that Saal had arrived. Jack was thinking of quitting anyways.

“so,” Saal continued, after joining Jack in the streets, “is that how city-people talk?”

[Helanna]

Cool! This will be a fun thread. I can post some of my stories here, right? Because that might give me the motivation to actually . . . well, write them. And I definitely think I can write better than Paolini.

[Solo]

Cool! This will be a fun thread. I can post some of my stories here, right? Because that might give me the motivation to actually . . . well, write them. And I definitely think I can write better than Paolini.

Get your own ruttin' thread, you no good thread stealer person!

[EvilElitest]

we should start a club, who's purpose is to write stories better than Eragon and Dominic Deegen


But lets keep it simple, first Solo, then we shall move on to the next purpose.

I propose that Solo, once his story is finished, chooses who's story becomes the next focus (maybe with its own thread)
If we have too many stories, there won't be enough focus on one person's work
from
EE

[Flickerdart]

Guys, you have to challenge yourself here. Out-writing Deegan and Eragon is comparable to out-wrestling a small child.

[Solo]

Guys, you have to challenge yourself here. Out-writing Deegan and Eragon is comparable to out-wrestling a small child.

Hey, those things are vicious! They grab on and won't let go.


Now, on with the praise and/or constructive criticism

[Maulrus]

I agree that he's a crappy-ass writer but he sure as hell made a lot of money off of those books.

[Chronicled]

I guess I can give you the first chapter for this story... I'm pretty confident it's better than anything Paolini or Mookie has done.

Spoiler

Show

The weather beaten trail wound ahead into the dust racked
climes of the baren land which dominates large portions of the
Norgolian empire. Age worn hoof prints smothered by the sifting
sands of time shone dully against the dust splattered crust of
earth. The tireless sun cast its parching rays of incandescense
from overhead, half way through its daily revolution. Small
rodents scampered about, occupying themselves in the daily
accomplishments of their dismal lives. Dust sprayed over three
heaving mounts in blinding clouds, while they bore the burdonsome
cargoes of their struggling overseers.
"Prepare to embrace your creators in the stygian haunts of
hell, barbarian", gasped the first soldier.
"Only after you have kissed the fleeting stead of death,
wretch!" returned Grignr.
A sweeping blade of flashing steel riveted from the massive
barbarians hide enameled shield as his rippling right arm thrust
forth, sending a steel shod blade to the hilt into the soldiers
vital organs. The disemboweled mercenary crumpled from his
saddle and sank to the clouded sward, sprinkling the parched dust
with crimson droplets of escaping life fluid.
The enthused barbarian swilveled about, his shock of fiery
red hair tossing robustly in the humid air currents as he faced
the attack of the defeated soldier's fellow in arms.
"Damn you, barbarian" Shrieked the soldier as he observed
his comrade in death.
A gleaming scimitar smote a heavy blow against the
renegade's spiked helmet, bringing a heavy cloud over the
Ecordian's misting brain. Shaking off the effects of the
pounding blow to his head, Grignr brought down his scarlet
streaked edge against the soldier's crudely forged hauberk,
clanging harmlessly to the left side of his opponent. The
soldier's stead whinnied as he directed the horse back from the
driving blade of the barbarian. Grignr leashed his mount forward
as the hoarsely piercing battle cry of his wilderness bred race
resounded from his grinding lungs. A twirling blade bounced
harmlessly from the mighty thief's buckler as his rolling right
arm cleft upward, sending a foot of blinding steel ripping
through the Simarian's exposed gullet. A gasping gurgle from the
soldier's writhing mouth as he tumbled to the golden sand at his
feet, and wormed agonizingly in his death bed.
Grignr's emerald green orbs glared lustfully at the
wallowing soldier struggling before his chestnut swirled mount.
His scowling voice reverberated over the dying form in a tone of
mocking mirth. "You city bred dogs should learn not to
antagonize your better." Reining his weary mount ahead, grignr
resumed his journey to the Noregolian city of Gorzam, hoping to
discover wine, women, and adventure to boil the wild blood
coarsing through his savage veins.
The trek to Gorzom was forced upon Grignr when the soldiers
of Crin were leashed upon him by a faithless concubine he had
wooed. His scandalous activities throughout the Simarian city
had unleashed throngs of havoc and uproar among it's refined
patricians, leading them to tack a heavy reward over his head.
He had barely managed to escape through the back entrance of the
inn he had been guzzling in, as a squad of soldiers tounced upon
him. After spilling a spout of blood from the leader of the
mercenaries as he dismembered one of the officer's arms, he
retreated to his mount to make his way towards Gorzom, rumoured
to contain hoards of plunder, and many young wenches for any man
who has the backbone to wrest them away.

[Helanna]

Heh. I almost missed the first chapter, it looked like part of your sig.

Alright! Sounds good so far! Although for me it feels weird reading it online and trying to compare it to an actual book, the two mediums just feel so different.

My one 'problem' with it is this line: "located on a strategic location on a sizeable island in the middle of the Starmirror lake"

It just reads a little awkwardly. Maybe due to the repeat of "located"? Maybe something like "Aldria was a port city built on commerce, a veritable metropolis located on an island in a strategic position in the middle of Starmirror lake." Still doesn't sound quite right, but . . .

Otherwise, good so far . . . A couple of the names were odd, like "Jack" and "Fharlanghn" being from the same culture. Are they from different cultures, or is there another reason for the difference in naming?

I like Saal, by the way. Good characterization with him already, I think, just through his entrance.

I propose that Solo, once his story is finished, chooses who's story becomes the next focus (maybe with its own thread)
If we have too many stories, there won't be enough focus on one person's work

Good idea. I second this.

[Solo]

I think the awkwardness comes from the fact that one should have replaced the other. Will edit.
*stabs*

Otherwise, good so far . . . A couple of the names were odd, like "Jack" and "Fharlanghn" being from the same culture. Are they from different cultures, or is there another reason for the difference in naming?

If the existence of gods is irrefutable fact, people of many different names will worship the same deities.

I guess I can give you the first chapter for this story... I'm pretty confident it's better than anything Paolini or Mookie has done.

May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your nether regions.

[Semidi]

I really enjoyed it. I giggled during many parts of it, and loved the voice it was written in. But I had issues with a few parts.

Jack, though he had worked as a mercenary a few years back, devoutly worshiped both Fharlanghn and Kord, and had picked up a bit of magic, worked in none of these fields.

Too many long clauses between "Jack" and "worked." May make the reader pause and have to figure our what you're saying.

He gazed around the faces in the cramped office as if searching for someone, locked onto Jack, and strode over to Jack’s desk.

Re-write, I'd go for something like, "He gazed around the faces in the cramped office as if searching for someone, then his gaze locked onto Jack, and he strode over to Jack’s desk." (or "his desk," either way)

That's just a recommendation, as you have it looks a bit odd. Even separating the two thoughts would work, "He gazed around at the faces in the cramped office; his gaze locked onto jack, and he..."

Jack put the parchment and pen away and craned his neck upwards at the man who was blocking all light into his corner of the office.

As you have it written, it looks as if the big man is is keeping the light in, not from, Jack's corner, but I don't think that's what you mean. I could be wrong.

Jack asked, embarrassed at the scene.

I think this could be better shown rather than told. Ex. "Jack turned bright red, feeling the eyes of his co-workers upon him." Also, "at the scene," bugs me, I don't know why. Yes, I know, very helpful.

Unfortunately, fate would not let him get off that easily, and Mr. Meyrs proceeded to huff and puff and scurry over to Jack’s corner.

You just said...

“We’ll work on it, Saal,” Jack groaned, grabbing his cousin by the arm and leading him out of the office before anything could happen, such as the manager blowing up in their faces.

It makes it sound as if Jack leads his cousin out of the office, but then they're back in the corner for some reason. Add in "tried," or "with the intention to."

Unfortunately, fate would not let him get off that easily, and Mr. Meyrs proceeded to huff and puff and scurry over to Jack’s corner.

It would sound better if Mr. Meyrs "scurried over to Jack's corner, huffing and puffing." But that's really in the style department. Disregard as you see fit.

I really enjoyed the story so far, it's funny, and I can't say enough good about your voice. A lot of the lines are awkward, but many lines are written really well like,

The two halves of the table, combined with Saal’s infamous glare of doom, convinced Mr. Meyrs to resume his silence as Jack quickly grabbed his Haversack and made an exit.

Anyway, better than the person you're trying to be better than. Your story kept me interested after the first 500 words. I hope my criticism is constructive; if it's not I'll stop bothering.

[Solo]

You shall die at a slightly later date than the others.

[Dallas-Dakota]

Advice : Put a line between paragraphs. Just a blank line.

[Helanna]

I think the awkwardness comes from the fact that one should have replaced the other. Will edit.
*stabs*

Hey! I resent that! It's time for action! *grabs flamethrower* "Never settle with words what can be resolved with a flamethrower!"

But of course I won't flame you. (Not until you finish your story. Then bad things happen).

[Solo]

Advice : Put a line between paragraphs. Just a blank line.

I do have a blank space between paragraphs.

[Dallas-Dakota]

I do have a blank space between paragraphs.

Was ment for Chronicled. Sorry, should have said so.

[Flickerdart]

Here's a writing tip. It's very difficult to do this in a pitiful language such as English with its tiny vocabulary, but at all costs avoid using the same word twice in one paragraph. Prepositions are fine, so are pronouns. But nouns, verbs, adjectives, etc. are all subject to this. It makes a huge difference. In Russian, the standard is a page, but I'm letting you barbarians off easy.

Also, long sentences. Not run-on, but at least complex ones.

[Dallas-Dakota]

Here's a writing tip. It's very difficult to do this in a pitiful language such as English with its tiny vocabulary, but at all costs avoid using the same word twice in one paragraph. Prepositions are fine, so are pronouns. But nouns, verbs, adjectives, etc. are all subject to this. It makes a huge difference. In Russian, the standard is a page, but I'm letting you barbarians off easy.

Also, long sentences. Not run-on, but at least complex ones.

What do you think of dutch then? English has around ten times as many words I think...

[Flickerdart]

What do you think of dutch then? English has around ten times as many words I think...

I fart in its general direction.

[Chronicled]

May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your nether regions.

What's that? You'd like more? Okay! Chapter 2 gogo!

Spoiler

Show

-2-

Arriving after dusk in Gorzom,grignr descended down a dismal
alley, reining his horse before a beaten tavern. The redhaired
giant strode into the dimly lit hostelry reeking of foul odors,
and cheap wine. The air was heavy with chocking fumes spewing
from smolderingtorches encased within theden's earthen packed
walls. Tables were clustered with groups of drunken thieves, and
cutthroats, tossing dice, or making love to willing prostitutes.
Eyeing a slender female crouched alone at a nearby bench,
Grignr advanced wishing to wholesomely occupy his time. The
flickering torches cast weird shafts of luminescence dancing over
the half naked harlot of his choice, her stringy orchid twines of
hair swaying gracefully over the lithe opaque nose, as she raised
a half drained mug to her pale red lips.
Glancing upward, the alluring complexion noted the stalwart
giant as he rapidly approached. A faint glimmer sparked from the
pair of deep blue ovals of the amorous female as she motioned
toward Grignr, enticing him to join her. The barbarian seated
himself upon a stool at the wenches side, exposing his body,
naked save for a loin cloth brandishing a long steel broad sword,
an iron spiraled battle helmet, and a thick leather sandals, to
her unobstructed view.
"Thou hast need to occupy your time, barbarian",questioned
the female?
"Only if something worth offering is within my reach."
Stated Grignr,as his hands crept to embrace the tempting female,
who welcomed them with open willingness.
"From where do you come barbarian, and by what are you
called?" Gasped the complying wench, as Grignr smothered her lips
with the blazing touch of his flaming mouth.
The engrossed titan ignored the queries of the inquisitive
female, pulling her towards him and crushing her sagging nipples
to his yearning chest. Without struggle she gave in, winding her
soft arms around the harshly bronzedhide of Grignr corded
shoulder blades, as his calloused hands caressed her firm
protruding busts.
"You make love well wench," Admitted Grignr as he reached
for the vessel of potent wine his charge had been quaffing.
A flying foot caught the mug Grignr had taken hold of,
sending its blood red contents sloshing over a flickering
crescent; leashing tongues of bright orange flame to the foot
trodden floor.
"Remove yourself Sirrah, the wench belongs to me;" Blabbered
a drunken soldier, too far consumed by the influences of his
virile brew to take note of the superior size of his adversary.
Grignr lithly bounded from the startled female, his face lit
up to an ashen red ferocity, and eyes locked in a searing feral
blaze toward the swaying soldier.
"To hell with you, braggard!" Bellowed the angered Ecordian,
as he hefted his finely honed broad sword.
The staggering soldier clumsily reached towards the pommel
of his dangling sword, but before his hands ever touched the
oaken hilt a silvered flash was slicing the heavy air. The thews
of the savages lashing right arm bulged from the glistening
bronzed hide as his blade bit deeply into the soldiers neck,
loping off the confused head of his senseless tormentor.
With a nauseating thud the severed oval toppled to the
floor, as the segregated torso of Grignr's bovine antagonist
swayed, then collapsed in a pool of swirled crimson.
In the confusion the soldier's fellows confronted Grignr
with unsheathed cutlasses, directed toward the latters scowling
make-up.
"The slut should have picked his quarry more carefully!"
Roared the victor in a mocking baritone growl, as he wiped his
dripping blade on the prostrate form, and returned it to its
scabbard.
"The fool should have shown more prudence, however you shall
rue your actions while rotting in the pits." Stated one of the
sprawled soldier's comrades.
Grignr's hand began to remove his blade from its leather
housing, but retarded the motion in face of the blades waving
before his face.
"Dismiss your hand from the hilt, barbarbian, or you shall
find a foot of steel sheathed in your gizzard."
Grignr weighed his position observing his plight, where-upon
he took the soldier's advice as the only logical choice. To
attempt to hack his way from his present predicament could only
warrant certain death. He was of no mind to bring upon his own
demise if an alternate path presented itself. The will to
necessitate his life forced him to yield to the superior force in
hopes of a moment of carlessness later upon the part of his
captors in which he could effect a more plausible means of
escape.
"You may steady your arms, I will go without a struggle."
"Your decision is a wise one, yet perhaps you would have
been better off had you forced death," the soldier's mouth
wrinkled to a sadistic grin of knowing mirth as he prodded his
prisoner on with his sword point.
After an indiscriminate period of marching through slinking
alleyways and dim moonlighted streets the procession confronted a
massive seraglio. The palace area was surrounded by an iron
grating, with a lush garden upon all sides.
The group was admitted through the gilded gateway and Grignr
was ledalong a stone pathway bordered by plush vegitation
lustfully enhanced by the moon's shimmering rays. Upon reaching
the palace the group was granted entrance, and after several
minutes of explanation, led through several winding corridors to
a richly draped chamber.
Confronting the group was a short stocky man seated upona
golden throne. Tapestries of richly draped regal blue silk
covered all walls of the chamber, while the steps leading to the
throne were plated with sparkling white ivory. The man upon the
throne had a naked wench seated at each of his arms, and a
trusted advisor seated in back of him. At each cornwr of the
chamber a guard stood at attention, with upraised pikes supported
in their hands, golden chainmail adorning their torso's and
barred helmets emitting scarlet plumes enshrouding their heads.
The man rose from his throne to the dias surrounding it. His
plush turquois robe dangled loosely from his chuncky frame.
The soldiers surrounding Grignr fell to their knees with
heads bowed to the stone masonry of the floor in fearful dignity
to their sovereign, leige.
"Explain the purpose of this intrusion upon my chateau!"
"Your sirenity, resplendent in noble grandeur, we have
brought this yokel before you (the soldier gestured toward
Grignr) for the redress or your all knowing wisdon in judgement
regarding his fate."
"Down on your knees, lout, and pay proper homage to your
sovereign!" commanded the pudgy noble of Grignr.
"By the surly beard of Mrifk, Grignr kneels to no man!"
scowled the massive barbarian.
"You dare to deal this blasphemous act to me! You are
indeed brave stranger, yet your valor smacks of foolishness."
"I find you to be the only fool, sitting upon your pompous
throne, enhancing the rolling flabs of your belly in the midst of
your elaborate luxuryand ..." The soldier standing at Grignr's
side smote him heavily in the face with the flat of his sword,
cutting short the harsh words and knocking his battered helmet to
the masonry with an echo-ing clang.
The paunchy noble's sagging round face flushed suddenly
pale, then pastily lit up to a lustrous cherry red radiance. His
lips trembled with malicious rage, while emitting a muffled
sibilant gibberish. His sagging flabs rolled like a tub of upset
jelly, then compressed as he sucked in his gut in an attempt to
conceal his softness.
The prince regained his statue, then spoke to the soldiers
surrounding Grignr, his face conforming to an ugly expression of
sadistic humor.
"Take this uncouth heathen to the vault of misery, and be
sure that his agonies are long and drawn out before death can
release him."
"As you wish sire, your command shall be heeded
immediately," answered the soldier on the right of Grignr as he
stared into the barbarians seemingly unaffected face.
The advisor seated in the back of the noble slowly rose and
advanced to the side of his master, motioning the wenches seated
at his sides to remove themselves. He lowered his head and
whispered to the noble.
"Eminence, the punishment you have decreed will cause much
misery to this scum, yet it will last only a short time, then
release him to a land beyond the sufferings of the human body.
Why not mellow him in one of the subterranean vaults for a few
days, then send him to life labor in one of your buried mines.
To one such as he, a life spent in the confinement of the stygian
pits will be an infinitely more appropiate and lasting torture."
The noble cupped his drooping double chin in the folds of
his briming palm, meditating for a moment upon the rationality of
the councilor's word's, then raised his shaggy brown eyebrows and
turned toward the advisor, eyes aglow.
"...As always Agafnd, you speak with great wisdom. Your
words ring of great knowledge concerning the nature of one such
as he ," sayeth , the king. The noble turned toward the prisoner
with a noticable shimmer reflecting in his frog-like eyes, and
his lips contorting to a greasy grin. "I have decided to void my
previous decree. The prisoner shall be removed to one of the
palaces underground vaults. There he shall stay until I have
decided that he has sufficiently simmered, whereupon he is to be
allowed to spend the remainder of his days at labor in one of my
mines."
Upon hearing this, Grignr realized that his fate would be
far less merciful than death to one such as he, who is used to
roaming the countryside at will. A life of confinement would be
more than his body and mind could stand up to. This type of life
would be immeasurably worse than death.
"I shall never understand the ways if your twisted
civilization. I simply defend my honor and am condemned to life
confinement, by a pig who sits on his royal ass wooing whores,
and knows nothing of the affairs of the land he imagines to
rule!" Lectures Grignr ?
"Enough of this! Away with the slut before I loose my
control!"
Seeing the peril of his position, Grignr searched for an
opening. Crushing prudence to the sward, he plowed into the
soldier at his left arm taking hold of his sword, and bounding to
the dias supporting the prince before the startled guards could
regain their composure. Agafnd leaped Grignr and his sire, but
found a sword blade permeating the length of his ribs before he
could loosed his weapon.
The councilor slumped to his knees as Grignr slid his
crimsoned blade from Agfnd's rib cage. The fat prince stood
undulating in insurmountable fear before the edge of the fiery
maned comet, his flabs of jellied blubber pulsating to and fro in
ripples of flowing terror.
"Where is your wisdom and power now, your magjesty?" Growled
Grignr.
The prince went rigid as Grignr discerned him glazing over
his shoulder. He swlived to note the cause of the noble's
attention, raised his sword over his head, and prepared to leash
a vicious downward cleft, but fell short as the haft of a steel
rimed pike clashed against his unguarded skull. Then blackness
and solitude. Silence enshrouding and ever peaceful reind
supreme.
"Before me, sirrah! Before me as always! Ha, Ha Ha,
Haaaa...", nobly cackled.

[Dallas-Dakota]

I see my advice has been ignored. I would like to know if Chronicled or mine was better to read. I just added spaces.

Spoiler

Show

-2-

Arriving after dusk in Gorzom,grignr descended down a dismal
alley, reining his horse before a beaten tavern. The redhaired
giant strode into the dimly lit hostelry reeking of foul odors,
and cheap wine. The air was heavy with chocking fumes spewing
from smolderingtorches encased within theden's earthen packed
walls. Tables were clustered with groups of drunken thieves, and
cutthroats, tossing dice, or making love to willing prostitutes.

Eyeing a slender female crouched alone at a nearby bench,
Grignr advanced wishing to wholesomely occupy his time. The
flickering torches cast weird shafts of luminescence dancing over
the half naked harlot of his choice, her stringy orchid twines of
hair swaying gracefully over the lithe opaque nose, as she raised
a half drained mug to her pale red lips.

Glancing upward, the alluring complexion noted the stalwart
giant as he rapidly approached. A faint glimmer sparked from the
pair of deep blue ovals of the amorous female as she motioned
toward Grignr, enticing him to join her. The barbarian seated
himself upon a stool at the wenches side, exposing his body,
naked save for a loin cloth brandishing a long steel broad sword,
an iron spiraled battle helmet, and a thick leather sandals, to
her unobstructed view.

"Thou hast need to occupy your time, barbarian",questioned
the female?
"Only if something worth offering is within my reach."
Stated Grignr,as his hands crept to embrace the tempting female,
who welcomed them with open willingness.
"From where do you come barbarian, and by what are you
called?" Gasped the complying wench, as Grignr smothered her lips
with the blazing touch of his flaming mouth.
The engrossed titan ignored the queries of the inquisitive
female, pulling her towards him and crushing her sagging nipples
to his yearning chest. Without struggle she gave in, winding her
soft arms around the harshly bronzedhide of Grignr corded
shoulder blades, as his calloused hands caressed her firm
protruding busts.

"You make love well wench," Admitted Grignr as he reached
for the vessel of potent wine his charge had been quaffing.
A flying foot caught the mug Grignr had taken hold of,
sending its blood red contents sloshing over a flickering
crescent; leashing tongues of bright orange flame to the foot
trodden floor.

"Remove yourself Sirrah, the wench belongs to me;" Blabbered
a drunken soldier, too far consumed by the influences of his
virile brew to take note of the superior size of his adversary.
Grignr lithly bounded from the startled female, his face lit
up to an ashen red ferocity, and eyes locked in a searing feral
blaze toward the swaying soldier.

"To hell with you, braggard!" Bellowed the angered Ecordian,
as he hefted his finely honed broad sword.
The staggering soldier clumsily reached towards the pommel
of his dangling sword, but before his hands ever touched the
oaken hilt a silvered flash was slicing the heavy air. The thews
of the savages lashing right arm bulged from the glistening
bronzed hide as his blade bit deeply into the soldiers neck,
loping off the confused head of his senseless tormentor.
With a nauseating thud the severed oval toppled to the
floor, as the segregated torso of Grignr's bovine antagonist
swayed, then collapsed in a pool of swirled crimson.
In the confusion the soldier's fellows confronted Grignr
with unsheathed cutlasses, directed toward the latters scowling
make-up.

"The slut should have picked his quarry more carefully!"
Roared the victor in a mocking baritone growl, as he wiped his
dripping blade on the prostrate form, and returned it to its
scabbard.

"The fool should have shown more prudence, however you shall
rue your actions while rotting in the pits." Stated one of the
sprawled soldier's comrades.
Grignr's hand began to remove his blade from its leather
housing, but retarded the motion in face of the blades waving
before his face.
"Dismiss your hand from the hilt, barbarbian, or you shall
find a foot of steel sheathed in your gizzard."

Grignr weighed his position observing his plight, where-upon
he took the soldier's advice as the only logical choice. To
attempt to hack his way from his present predicament could only
warrant certain death. He was of no mind to bring upon his own
demise if an alternate path presented itself. The will to
necessitate his life forced him to yield to the superior force in
hopes of a moment of carlessness later upon the part of his
captors in which he could effect a more plausible means of
escape.

"You may steady your arms, I will go without a struggle."
"Your decision is a wise one, yet perhaps you would have
been better off had you forced death," the soldier's mouth
wrinkled to a sadistic grin of knowing mirth as he prodded his
prisoner on with his sword point.
After an indiscriminate period of marching through slinking
alleyways and dim moonlighted streets the procession confronted a
massive seraglio. The palace area was surrounded by an iron
grating, with a lush garden upon all sides.

The group was admitted through the gilded gateway and Grignr
was ledalong a stone pathway bordered by plush vegitation
lustfully enhanced by the moon's shimmering rays. Upon reaching
the palace the group was granted entrance, and after several
minutes of explanation, led through several winding corridors to
a richly draped chamber.

Confronting the group was a short stocky man seated upona
golden throne. Tapestries of richly draped regal blue silk
covered all walls of the chamber, while the steps leading to the
throne were plated with sparkling white ivory. The man upon the
throne had a naked wench seated at each of his arms, and a
trusted advisor seated in back of him. At each cornwr of the
chamber a guard stood at attention, with upraised pikes supported
in their hands, golden chainmail adorning their torso's and
barred helmets emitting scarlet plumes enshrouding their heads.
The man rose from his throne to the dias surrounding it. His
plush turquois robe dangled loosely from his chuncky frame.

The soldiers surrounding Grignr fell to their knees with
heads bowed to the stone masonry of the floor in fearful dignity
to their sovereign, leige.
"Explain the purpose of this intrusion upon my chateau!"
"Your sirenity, resplendent in noble grandeur, we have
brought this yokel before you (the soldier gestured toward
Grignr) for the redress or your all knowing wisdon in judgement
regarding his fate."

"Down on your knees, lout, and pay proper homage to your
sovereign!" commanded the pudgy noble of Grignr.
"By the surly beard of Mrifk, Grignr kneels to no man!"
scowled the massive barbarian.
"You dare to deal this blasphemous act to me! You are
indeed brave stranger, yet your valor smacks of foolishness."
"I find you to be the only fool, sitting upon your pompous
throne, enhancing the rolling flabs of your belly in the midst of
your elaborate luxuryand ..." The soldier standing at Grignr's
side smote him heavily in the face with the flat of his sword,
cutting short the harsh words and knocking his battered helmet to
the masonry with an echo-ing clang.

The paunchy noble's sagging round face flushed suddenly
pale, then pastily lit up to a lustrous cherry red radiance. His
lips trembled with malicious rage, while emitting a muffled
sibilant gibberish. His sagging flabs rolled like a tub of upset
jelly, then compressed as he sucked in his gut in an attempt to
conceal his softness.
The prince regained his statue, then spoke to the soldiers
surrounding Grignr, his face conforming to an ugly expression of
sadistic humor.

"Take this uncouth heathen to the vault of misery, and be
sure that his agonies are long and drawn out before death can
release him."
"As you wish sire, your command shall be heeded
immediately," answered the soldier on the right of Grignr as he
stared into the barbarians seemingly unaffected face.
The advisor seated in the back of the noble slowly rose and
advanced to the side of his master, motioning the wenches seated
at his sides to remove themselves. He lowered his head and
whispered to the noble.

"Eminence, the punishment you have decreed will cause much
misery to this scum, yet it will last only a short time, then
release him to a land beyond the sufferings of the human body.
Why not mellow him in one of the subterranean vaults for a few
days, then send him to life labor in one of your buried mines.
To one such as he, a life spent in the confinement of the stygian
pits will be an infinitely more appropiate and lasting torture."
The noble cupped his drooping double chin in the folds of
his briming palm, meditating for a moment upon the rationality of
the councilor's word's, then raised his shaggy brown eyebrows and
turned toward the advisor, eyes aglow.

"...As always Agafnd, you speak with great wisdom. Your
words ring of great knowledge concerning the nature of one such
as he ," sayeth , the king. The noble turned toward the prisoner
with a noticable shimmer reflecting in his frog-like eyes, and
his lips contorting to a greasy grin. "I have decided to void my
previous decree. The prisoner shall be removed to one of the
palaces underground vaults. There he shall stay until I have
decided that he has sufficiently simmered, whereupon he is to be
allowed to spend the remainder of his days at labor in one of my
mines."

Upon hearing this, Grignr realized that his fate would be
far less merciful than death to one such as he, who is used to
roaming the countryside at will. A life of confinement would be
more than his body and mind could stand up to. This type of life
would be immeasurably worse than death.
"I shall never understand the ways if your twisted
civilization. I simply defend my honor and am condemned to life
confinement, by a pig who sits on his royal ass wooing whores,
and knows nothing of the affairs of the land he imagines to
rule!" Lectures Grignr ?

"Enough of this! Away with the slut before I loose my
control!"
Seeing the peril of his position, Grignr searched for an
opening. Crushing prudence to the sward, he plowed into the
soldier at his left arm taking hold of his sword, and bounding to
the dias supporting the prince before the startled guards could
regain their composure. Agafnd leaped Grignr and his sire, but
found a sword blade permeating the length of his ribs before he
could loosed his weapon.

The councilor slumped to his knees as Grignr slid his
crimsoned blade from Agfnd's rib cage. The fat prince stood
undulating in insurmountable fear before the edge of the fiery
maned comet, his flabs of jellied blubber pulsating to and fro in
ripples of flowing terror.

"Where is your wisdom and power now, your magjesty?" Growled
Grignr.
The prince went rigid as Grignr discerned him glazing over
his shoulder. He swlived to note the cause of the noble's
attention, raised his sword over his head, and prepared to leash
a vicious downward cleft, but fell short as the haft of a steel
rimed pike clashed against his unguarded skull. Then blackness
and solitude. Silence enshrouding and ever peaceful reind
supreme.

"Before me, sirrah! Before me as always! Ha, Ha Ha,
Haaaa...", nobly cackled.

[/QUOTE]

[Chronicled]

I see my advice has been ignored. I would like to know if Chronicled or mine was better to read. I just added spaces.

Or missed. I actually like it better the way I posted it; it remains true to the source (which had no spaces), and better conveys the feeling of terrible writing.

For those wondering, those were the first two chapters of The Eye of Argon, an infamous classic among terrible fantasy works.

[Solo]

I knew something was up!

Such writing was clearly beyond your abilities