Help me write- SOMETHING!

I'm better, but I was sick for like a week. Working on the next part now, about half done. Or should I post what I have already? What would you prefer?

I'd like to see what you've got. You could add the rest w hen you edit your post. Missed your work.

When should it be fully done? Personally I wouldn't care to wait.

I've decided to post the first half because I've waited long enough, I don't want to loose my inspiration or keep you people waiting anymore. And thanks for your patience btw. :)

PART SEVEN (first part)

It took Princess Stephanie’s maid a few moments to recover from the amazing sight of seeing her mistress running on water, but then came back to her senses and shouted:

“Princess! No! You can’t go alone! Come back! Guards! Help! Bring back the princess!!”

The royal guards, upon hearing her screams, ran to see what the matter was, and, after their own moment of disbelief, tried to do as told- but the weight of their own armors was too much to allow them to swim, and by the time they had discarded them, the Princess had disappeared from sight.

Also watching this was a small yellow bird on a nearby tree’s branches. Suddenly it took off, heading towards the same direction the Princess had gone…

Back on Benedict’s ship, Bullet was now playing around with the magical pipe, like a little girl (which she really wasn’t that far from being.)

“Umm. Captain Bullet, I would not do that if I were you” the writer said. “Chaos magic is, well, chaotic. You never know what it will do next.”

But bullet ignored him, entranced with the beauty on the multicolored soap bubbles. She blew a particularly large bubble, one that drifted back in the breeze and landed on her hair- where it got stuck with the force of cement. At first she didn’t think of it as anything more than a mild annoyance, until she noticed that IT WAS STILL GROWING, despite no one blowing any more air into it. She cursed, as she tried to yank it out, while everyone else around her laughed.

“Don’t jest stand there, ye mangy dogs! Help me get- YIPE!!” she gasped, as she found herself being pulled up the air by the by now huge soapbubble.

“Ahhh!! Quick!! Cut me loose!! It huuuuurrtss!!” she screamed, dropping the pipe.

Alphonse and Cornudo managed to grab her by her feet, but it was obvious that the ever-growing bubble was going to just lift them up eventually as well. It was the writer who, reaching up, took her cutlass from her belt and, after climbing up one of the ship’s riggings to reach far enough, managed to cut the bubble loose.

The bubble then drifted away from the ship, carried by the sea breeze, a lock of Bullet’s hair still embedded on it. And it would keep on drifting, until one day, it would be found by a tribe of pygmies who, mistaking it for an omen from their gods, would make it an object of worship in their local shrine.

But on the ship, everyone was now laughing *again* at Bullet. “Yeah, yeah, very funny, glad ye be entertained with me woes. Now, How about paying me me booty?”

“I already told you-" Benedict tried to argue, but he was stopped by Sir Alphonse, who raised his hand. “Oh very well, he IS alive, in a way, I guess, and I could never have rescued him without you” the dragon finally agreed. “Go downstairs. You’ll find two chests, filled with coins and jewels. Take one; the other is for paying the ship’s crew” he said to the pirate girl.

Bullet didn’t have to be told twice; she darted towards the door leading below deck, and a few moment later, a YAHOO!! Could be heard; she tend emerged, coffer in hands, and smiling from ear to ear.

“We still need to go on a quest to break Alphonse’s curse” Benedict mentioned. “I don’t suppose you would be interested in accompanying us in that as well?”

“Sorry, me scaly friend, but if there’s no loot to be made, I be not interested. Besides, me men must be getting restless without me. By-bye!!” she said, as she leaned over to the side of the ship, where a rowboat she had called for from her ship had already arrived. She jumped into it with her cargo, and soon they were gone, back to her ship, which soon went on its own way across the sea.

“What about you, Professor Cornudo?” Benedict asked the old inventor.

“I just want to fix my flying machine so I can go back to my island. I still don’t understand what happened to it.”

“It was sabotaged” the writer explained. “Whitey the rat did it.”

“EH? But why?” the old man asked.

“It was afraid you would take over its position in the circus.”

“Why that little… well. At least we won’t ever see it again, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“So, you don’t plan on helping cure Roca like you promised?” Benedict asked.

“Oh! I had forgotten about that… I guess I will have to return to the circus some day…”

“How about you, Mr. Martinez?” the dragon addressed the writer. “Will you accompany us on this new quest?”

“Err… let me sleep on that, OK?”

Suddenly, the group was interrupted by the loud sounds of- bird singing? A canary flew in from the sea and circled madly around them. “What now?” the dragon asked.

“I don’t know, this wasn’t in my last dream” (*assuming I’m not dreaming right now*, the writer thought.)

The bird landed on a railing, and warbled furiously at them, but realized they were just not getting its message. It then started to- dance? “…What is it doing?” Cornudo asked.

Suddenly, the wooden Indian statue covered its mouth with its hand. Then it pointed at the bird.

“You can’t talk, right?” the writer guessed. “So you have to use sign language… wait, that’s it! The bird is trying to tell us something with its gestures!!”

Everyone stared at the bird. It had placed a wing on its head, fanning its feathers wide open. “…That looks like- a crown, maybe?” the dragon guessed.

“…A crown… royalty? Princess Stephanie, maybe?” the writer guessed.

TWEET!! The bird chirped happily.

“What about her?” Cornudo asked.

The bird pointed with one wing towards where they had come from, while jogging in place.

“She’s… running? Towards here?” the writer guessed.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous” Cornudo snorted. “More likely, she’s chasing us by boat. Don’t worry, they won’t catch us, we have a head start.”

Suddenly, a kind of whooshing sound could be heard in the sky above. Everyone looked up, and they saw some small, metallic object flying across the sky.

Unknown to them, it was Norman, the Killer Robot Dog. It had been given a pair of jet-engine-like wings by Whitey for the purpose of tracking down and destroying Cornudo (and all his allies, really.) But just as it found the ship and was getting ready to attack, it noticed that its sailing flag was red, a color that its malfunctioning brain was as afraid of as much as it feared sharp things.

Instead, it flew around in the sky, leaving a message written with its smoky exhaust that read I WILL KILL YOU!! And then flew back to the circus.

…Too bad it had written the message in Canine, whom none aboard the ship spoke.

“And what was THAT about?” Cornudo asked.

“You got me” the writer responded.

“Something tells me that taking a less direct route to the Southern Lands would be the best thing. Captain! Adjust course!!” the dragon shouted.

“Aye!” the captain agreed. "How about sailing right along the coast, rather than in the open sea?"

"Sounds good, they won't expect us to take the longer route"" the Dragon agreed.

They then turned around to thank the little bird, but it had already flown back towards the mainland.

“Huh. I wonder why it helped us” the writer said aloud.

Unseen by most of them, one of the crew members, who had been quietly overhearing their conversation, walked towards the back of the ship, where he brought a piece of paper from one of his vest’s pockets. He wrote something on it, and brought something else out- a messenger pigeon, all tied up. After tying the message to one of its legs, he freed the bird, who then flew back towards the Land of Ice.

This was unseen by everyone except the wooden Indian, whose presence it had ignored, forgetting it was a living statue. The “Chief” then began to think of how to alert the others of what had happened, when it could barely communicate by itself.

edited 7th Mar '13 1:38:37 PM by Sijo

It looks like Part 7-point-2 is underway, so you don't have to use these until Part 8:

• Alphonse takes up alchemy.
• The canary's mother is actually a blue canary that glows at night, because HER parents are a canary and a sentient lighthouse. The other sentient lighthouses kinda think negatively of the blue canary's lighthouse parent for killing Jason off and countless screaming Argonauts. Canary-lighthouse hybrids are commonly caught by children and used as their equivalent of nightlights.
• An Anthropomorphic Personification of the Latin language shows up, who starts out speaking Latin but (reluctantly) changes to English when he realizes that none of the main characters speak Latin. He boards the ship because of something-or-other.

edited 7th Mar '13 4:43:31 PM by TheThnikkaman

I found part one pretty cool, but I'll wait until part 2 comes out before suggesting more.

I liked it. I'll miss bullet.

In part 8 have the writer tell a joke about attacker bird and then get attacked by an actual attack bird named Harold who hates people named Paul. Harold then stays and watched the writer from now on.

Waiting eagerly for part 7, section 2.

Also, Harold is a finch. Who wears glasses.

-Ka-Chunk!

-“Eh? What was that?” Benedict said.

-“What was what?”the writer asked.

-Ka-Chunk!

-“That.”

-“Sounds like… it’s coming from… over the hull” Cornudo said, taking a look over the ship’s rail. “WHOA!” he gasped, and jumped back.

And thin arm, wielding a dagger, had just appeared over the railing, followed a moment later by the face of beautiful woman- with a murderous expression, that is.

“We are being boarded!!”Cornudo screamed.

Everyone ran to the side to see. And indeed, they saw several beautiful women, all armed with daggers, using them to climb by digging them into the ship’s wooden hull.

“Where did they come from? There are no ship’s nearby!” the captain wondered.

“They are sea nymphs!” the writer realized, remembering them from his earlier dream. “They work for the Sea Witch! With the other ship gone, they must have felt free to attack us!”

“GET OUT OF OUR WATERS!!” the nymph that had crawled over the rail screamed.

“How about YOU get off OUR ship?” the dragon responded, flicking her off the ship with his right claw.

She fell back to the water, but the others kept climbing.

“Don’t let them get onboard!” the captain shouted. Benedict, Alphonse, The Wooden Chief and the ship’s crew then engaged them, knocking them back to the water. (Cornudo and The Writer, not being warriors, just stood back.)

After a few minutes, the invaders stopped trying to board the ship.

-“Is it over?” asked Cornudo.

-“I think so” replied the writer. “I think we are finally out of their waters. I don’t think they will pursue us again.”

“We must determine how to break Alphonse’s curse” Benedict said. “Seer, have you any ideas?”

“Err, like I said, I must really go to sleep first. In fact, I think the sooner I do so, the better” he responded. In truth, he was hoping he would just wake up from this crazy dream.

“Very well, you may return downstairs and find a place to sleep” the captain said. The writer wasted no time in so doing.

“I’m going back to trying to fix the ornithopter” Cornudo said, heading for the machine with a toolbox in hand.

“Allow me then to tell you the story of how I came to be allied with these people” the dragon said to the knight.

Hours later, the writer awoke.

He was still on a bunk on the ship.

“Damn” he thought. What was going on? Why couldn’t he wake up?

A thought ran through his mind. What if this weasn’t a dream? What if it was somehow- real, and he was trapped in another world?

But then he facepalmed. *I’ve been reading too many self-insert fics! I WILL wake up sooner or later. All I must do is wait.*

He then got off the cot and walked back updeck.

Benedict, Alphonse, The Chief and Cornudo were all there.

“Foresaw anything?” the dragon asked him.

“No, sadly” he said. “Ah, clairvoyance doesn’t work all the time.”

“Yes, so I have heard” the dragon said sadly. “I guess we will just have to wander the lands until we find something.”

“Uh, how’s the machine coming, Prof?” the writer asked, changing the topic.

“I have repaired a lot of things, but it's still not ready to fly again” Cornudo answered.

Suddenly, a *huge* glob of a black, thick liquid fell on the deck, from the seemingly empty sky! (SPLAT!)

-“What is that!?” Cornudo shouted.

-“Is it burning oil? Are we under attack??” the ship’s captain asked. Everyone looked around, but there were no other ships visible. Nothing but the sea and the sky.

The black liquid brought out an acrid smell that soon filled the air. “…Is it me, or does it smell like… ink?”

-*Sniiff* “Now that you mention it, it does” the dragon said. “Perhaps the kraken returned and spat it?”

Everyone quickly went to look at the sea, trying to spot the sea-monster.

Because of that, they failed to notice how the liquid started flowing by itself- against gravity or the ship’s sway, instead heading directly for- the writer! -“HEY! WHAT THE-“ he gasped, when he noticed the stuff was now covering his left foot. “THIS THING IS ALIVE!!!”

The others turned around, to see the inky blob stretching out tendrils, trying to cover the man from head to toe. He struggled, but that only caused him to get more stuck. Sir Alphonse unsheathed his sword, and slashed at the blob, with little effect as well.

“I can’t burn it, it would hurt Mister Martinez as well!”

“…I guess I’m going to have to wash it off!” Martinez said, and threw his weight over to the side, slipping off the thing’s grasp and falling into the sea! (splash!)

As soon as he was free, Benedict breathed fire at the thing. It did indeed catch fire almost instantly. It then screeched, a mouth appearing from somewhere in its form. It turned around, and seemed to actually grow bigger, as it attempted to envelop the dragon with its now-burning mass.

Meanwhile, on the sea, the writer emerged back to the surface, now free of the black goo: it had indeed dissolved with the water, as he expected. “Hey! Water kills it!!” he shouted at his allies in the ship.

Hearing him, Alphonse, Cornudo and the rest of the crew quickly grabbed buckets, filled them with water from barrels, and splashed the struggling dragon; within seconds, the flames were snuffed out, and what was left of the ink-monster dissolved into inky spots on the deck.

“Will someone throw me a rope?” the writer shouted.

They did, and he was soon back on board, safe, if soaking wet.

“What could that have been?” Cornudo asked.

“I dunno” the writer said. Then he remembered something: that smell… it was like that of the pens he used to write with. Well, before he got a computer, anyway. And the fact it attacked him first- was it a coincidence, or…?

Not too far away, Captain Bullet’s ship sailed merrily across the waves. She was in her room, playing with all the jewelry she had gained from her adventure, secretly trying them on. She might be a pirate, but she was still a girl!

“Captain!” the voice of her first mate called over, sounding urgent.

“What is it?” she snapped, while taking off the jewelry.

“There’s a ship approaching! It’s the Alexandrian!!”

“What!?” Of all the times for it to show!” she cursed, and ran to the deck.

Once there, she could clearly see the ship, which was easy to identify: after all, how many ships were actually built out of paper!? That was only possible through the power of its creator: Captain Papyrus, self-styled Master of Paper, an ability he claims to have inherited from his ancestor, the Egyptian god Thoth, who invented paper. He also happened to be an old foe of Bullet’s, a rival for the supremacy of piracy on the high seas.

“Turn around!!” Bullet screamed. Her crew hurried to obey her command.

“Ahoy, Bullet! Do not run, me sweet lass! Face me like a pirate!!”

“There’s no money to be made in pointless battle!” she spat back. As much as she wanted to make the dark-skinned fop eat his papery beard, she knew, from past experience, that his army of paper-mache men were all but invincible in close combat. The last time they fought, she only got away by starting a fire on his ship.

“Fire the cannons!”she ordered. Her men did as commanded, but the holes made by the cannonballs quickly closed themselves shut again. She cursed.

Then she had an idea. “Set the oil barrel on fire, and toss it overboard!”

Her men once again hurried to carry out her plan, and it worked- a burning oil slick formed between the two ships. By the time The Alexandrian had sailed around it, Bullet and her ship were gone.

Papyrus swore between gritted teeth. “Next time, lass. Next time…”

((To be continued))

PART SEVEN - SECOND PART

I loved it!

You need to make this an ebook so we can read it.

Hours later, as Benedict’s ship sailed along the mainland coast, a curious structure could be seen in the distance. It resembled an old, wooden windmill.

And it was- on the outside, anyway.

On the inside, all kind of strange machinery twisted, hissed, and beeped.

“Now, that’s odd” Cornudo said aloud, as he examined the insides of the ornithopter.

“What is?” the writer, who had decided to give him a hand, asked.

“I’m getting some strange vibrations on the control wirings. But I don’t know what’s causing them.”

The writer leaned in closer, until he too heard them: "beep-be-beep!"

“Huh. That sounds almost like… morse code?”

“What?” the Professor asked.

“It’s a system of communication used in the rea- I mean, where I come from” the writer explained.

“So someone is trying to contact us? What does it say?”

“Oh, I don’t actually know the code. Oh well it’s just likely static”.

It wasn’t. It was a message from the windmill, one that would have surely shocked them if they had understood it: Stay away or die!

Seeing as its warning was ignored, the strange building took action.

One of its sides opened, and a treadmill appeared. On it, several freshly-baked pies began to roll out.

Then, the windmill’s sails suddenly starting rotating in reverse, creating a powerful wind instead of being driven by one! The resultant whirlwind soon sucked up the pies, up through the air and in the direction of the ship…

A few moments later:

SPLAT! The writer was hit with a pie on the face. “HEY! WHAT’S THE BIG IDEA!” he turned around to see who had thrown it. “Cornudo, is this your idea of a joke?”

But then- SPLAT!- another pie fell on the old scientist!

Splat splat splat! Followed by several more, all over the ship.

“The heck… is it raining pies now? Is that natural along these lands!?"

Alphonse just shrugged (he still could not talk.)

“Hmm, these are delicious” Benedict said, snatching a few from the air.

But what at first looked like a whimsical event soon turned serious, as the pies just wouldn’t stop falling. Soon the entire deck was covered in still-hot cake batter, as were the sails.

“we cannot continue sailing like this! We’ll have to land!” the captain shouted. On his command, the ship headed for the nearest beach, and threw down the anchor.

Everyone then went downstairs to wait until the “pie storm” had passed.

Unfortunately the mill had other plans.

It stopped its pie barrage, but then extruded a pair of giant wooden wheels from beneath itself. Its sails also folded, becoming two pairs of arms. With a thunderous noise, it began rolling down from the hill it stood, heading toward the ship!

Luckily for the crew, the noise it made alerted them. Someone looked through a window and spotted it. “What in blazes in that!?”

Cornudo gasped in awe. "It’s… it’s some kind of war machine! I’ve never seen anything like it!!”

“It’s going to attack us!” the writer warned. “Let’s get out of here!”

“The sails don’t work, remember?” Benedict said. Even the dragon was spooked at the sight of the colossal mechanism.

“ABANDON SHIP!!” the captain screamed, and everyone inside hastened to do so. And good thing too, because as soon as it was within range, the windmill-robot smashed into the ship, knocking it over its side and sinking it into the shallow waters of the bay.

“Arrgh, my ship!” the captain screamed from the shore.

“You can buy another. For now, run!” Benedict told him, as the group ran into the nearby forest.

Fortunately, the mill did not follow them, but instead returned to its original spot, and reassumed its innocuous appearance.

“Our luck keeps getting worse” the dragon commented.

“Hey, MY flying machine was on that ship too!” Cornudo snapped. “I’ll get you for this, you, you-"

“We’ll not get anything by just standing here. Let’s see if we can find shelter” the writer suggested.

A while later, the ship’s crew –including the dragon and the wooden indian- walked along a path they had found, which got progressively colder, until they found snow. “Huh. The Land of Ice, which is to the north, was warmer than this. I wonder why?” the writer noticed.

“Look!” the ship’s captain said. An inn was visible in the middle of the road.

They reached it, and went inside. Except the dragon and the Indian, who thought it best not be seen yet.

Several rather unsavory-looking fellows were inside…

…and an old, screechy voice could be heard saying: “b-59”

Everyone inside were staring at some tiny boards they held in their hands.

A few moments later, the same voice said “g-14”

The newcomers looked at each other in confusion.

“Oh, wait, I know what they are doing” the writer explained. “They are playing bingo.”

“playing what?”

“It’s a kind of game.”

“Ehh, I don’t care about games, I want food!” the captain said.

“And drink!” his first mate added.

While most of the group headed towards the innkeeper, the writer instead headed over to where the game was being held. He saw what he at first mistook for two old ladies wearing feathery clothing.

“Ahem. Excuse. Madam?” he asked.

“Yes, what is it?” one of them said.

“This might be a bit difficult to believe but… our boat was just sunk by-"

“-a walking windmill?” she finished for him.

“Why yes! Do you know about it?”

“Ethel, will you please fill him in? I think I have Bingo. "

“Sure, Lucy” the other old woman said. “That thing was created by the Fire Giant Surtur, who lives in the volcanic lands to the North. He likes pies, you see, and, being a master of magical smithing, he created a mill that would work by itself. But, he has an enemy, Ymir the Frost giant, who lives nearby. He decided to also make the mill a weapon that could fight his enemy for him. Something went wrong, however, and the machine turned against its master… now it resides by the sea, sinking any ship that dares come close, and neither of the giants have been able to stop it.”

“Have they tried fighting it together?”

Both old women laughed hard aloud at that.

“Surtur and Ymir, working together? Yeah right!” Ethel said. “Oh wait- I have Bingo!!”she shouted.

“What? No you don’t, you old bird! *I* have bingo!” a huge, scarred man said.

“Who are you calling old, scratch-face?” she snapped back. “The price money is mine! Give it to me already!”

“Come and take it, if you can!” the man laughed.

But suddenly, the old woman stood up- revealing a pair of feathery wings on her back, and that her lower legs resembled those of a vulture’s!

“Hey, they’re harpies!!” someone screamed.

The harpy launched herself at her offender, clawing at his face, squeaking like mad. Other men tried to aid him, but her sister, also a harpy, also came to her aid. Within seconds, the inn had turned into a chaos, with objects being tossed and drunk people fighting for no apparent reason.

The writer and his companions rushed outside.

“Well, at least we got some food and drink” the captain said.

(to be continued)

Part 7 is getting to be quite long. Not that that's a bad thing, of course.

A crazy hermit with a prehensile beard.

Be attacked by a coo coo bird.

Have the creator of the robotic dog while in a para glider shot down by the windmill.

I decided to start Part 8 already, I had a few more ideas for part 7 but it was getting too long, they’ll have to wait.

PART 8

The Land of Ice:

It was night now. The sea had gone pitch dark, but a beam of light could be seen cutting across the darkness. It came from a stone lighthouse, not far from where Princess Stephanie had run into the waters.

A small, yellow form could be seen flying towards it. It was the canary whom the heroes had met previously. Soon it reached a tree near the lighthouse and landed upon it.

Another bird, similar to the canary but larger and blue in color, who glowed softly in the dark, was also in the tree. It flew closer to the smaller one.

“Did you succeed?” the blue bird asked.

“Yes!” the smaller one said. “Well, they couldn’t understand what I said, but I managed to make give them the message anyway. They changed course, so I don’t think Stephanie will find them.”

“Good job, boy, I knew you could do it” a voice suddenly said. The tree was then filled by an almost binding light.

“Father, lower your brightness, please” the blue bird said.

“Oh, my apologies, Joy. I spend so much time at full power, I forget that it can be blinding up close.” As the light dimmed, the voice could be seen to belong to a creature resembling a Bird of Paradise, except it was completely golden in color.

“Dad, should you be leaving your post in the lighthouse?” the blue canary asked.

“Don’t worry, there are no ships immediately near, I can afford a few minutes to congratulate my grandson on his first big mission.”

“Ohh, it wasn’t that big a deal” the yellow canary said, blushing.

“Make no mistake, what you did was important. The story of Alphonse and Stephanie is tragic enough already… it doesn’t need to be any sadder.”

“Hey, you think someday someone will write it down, and mention us?”” the little bird said, excited.

“I’m sure they will” Joy nodded. “But now, you should return to your post” she said to the Light Spirit.

It silently nodded, almost as if it were reluctant, and then flew off the tree, and back inside the lighthouse, which soon lit up again its fierce beam across the sea.

“Mom, is something wrong?” the little bird asked.

“Well… your grandfather has a… reputation problem, he doesn’t need any more by slacking off.”

“Eh? Why is that?”

“Well, you see… long, long ago, there was this roving band of ‘heroes’ called The Argonauts. They were very famous, for slaying monsters and such. But the truth was, they were barbarians, at least by today’s standards. They also pillaged many places. When your grandfather found about that, he refused to guide their ship with his beacon, causing them to sink. But the common people did not understand why he did that. Even the other Light Spirits have never forgiven him for it.”

“But that’s not fair!”

“Life is not fair” Joy said sadly. But then, cheering up for her son, she added “That’s why we must work to make it more fair. Now, off to bed you go, young one. It’s getting late.”

"Ok”he said, but added” But you should go to bed too. You know what happens to glowing birds who stay up at night: they get caught by children who want to use them as night lights.”

“Oh, I don’t want that to happen!” Joy said, smiling, and flied by his side to their nest.

Meanwhile, Benedict’s group was walking along a road.

“It’s getting dark. We need a place to sleep” the dragon said.

“Hey look!” Cornudo said, pointing ahead, where an old house laid by the side. A man with a really, really long beard was sleeping on a chair in front of it.

“Maybe we can stay there” the writer said. “Let me ask him.”

He approached, and saw that the old man wasn’t asleep; he was reading something. Besides him was a bowl full of snacks.

“Excuse me mister-"

Suddenly, the old man’s beard stretched and twisted, like a snake, reached into the bowl, drew out a few snacks, and put them on his mouth, which he then proceeded to eat.

The writer stood there, stunned at the sight.

“Yes?” the old man asked, annoyed.

“Ahem. Yes. We… are… looking for a place to sleep…”

“There’s an inn up the road” the old man interrupted.

“Umm, we know that, we come from there. But- let’s just say it’s not a good place to stay tonight. So we were wondering-"

“Can ya pay?”

“Umm, I believe so, yes.”

“Then you can stay the night. Make yourselves comfy. Except the dragon, he stays out.”

“Eh, I don’t need a room anyway” Benedict snorted.

The group soon got into the old house, and explored it.

Alphonse found a room full of books. Not really needing to rest because of his- condition, he decided to pass the night reading by candlelight instead. He found one that caught his attention: a guide to Alchemy. He remembered that one of the goal of alchemists was the creation of an elixir of life. Perhaps THAT could help reanimate his body! He began to read intently…

A short while later, everyone was getting ready to sleep. The writer found a nice enough room where he hoped that, THIS time, he could sleep his way back to the real world.

Suddenly, however, an white-and-black thing appeared out of thin air in front of him. At first, it looked like a whirlwind full of papers, with numbers and letters written on them. But before his transfixed gaze, he saw them rearrange themselves into a humanoid form, looking like a regal, old man in a robe- still stark white and black, with the Greek alphabet written across his robe.

“Desine seminatoris zizanie interponunt!” the strange vision said to him.

“Pardon?” was his response.

“Desine seminatoris zizanie interponunt!” it repeated.

“Is that Latin? Because I don’t speak Latin, sorry.”

The stranger seemed to facepalm. Then he said, in English: “Stop your meddling!”

“Okay, I understood this time… except, I don’t know what you mean.”

“A writer is not supposed to be part of his own story!!” he spat furiously.

“Well, of course not” was the response. “But it isn’t like I’m doing it intentionally, you know. And who the heck are you, anyway?”

“I am Idioma, the embodiment of language and writing.”

“Ahh, I see. Well, cannot YOU help me get out of here? Because I’m not enjoying the stay, believe me.”

“No! I must not interfere directly either!”

“Well, too bad. Then I’m stuck until I find out how to get out.” However, suddenly he remembered something: “Hey, wait a minute… that ink blob monster that attacked me! Was that YOUR doing, trying to eliminate me from the story!?”

Idioma gnashed his teeth, but said nothing more, instead dissolving into the whirlwind of pages again, and disappearing.

“Oh great, on top of everything, I have a personal foe now” the writer lamented, and went back to his cot, thought he couldn’t sleep very well afterwards.

The next day, the group convened outside the house to talk about what their plans were.

Alphonse showed them the alchemy book. “Ahh, yes, the elixir of life!” the writer said. “That might cure sir Alphonse! If we can find all the ingredients, that is!”

“Where do we have to look?” the dragon asked.

“On the northlands, according to this…”

“Oh no, we are not going back there!” the ship’s captain said. “If you’re going, here’s were we part!”

“Well, I guess we can’t ask you to risk yourselves. Thanks for your help, captain. Anyone else coming with Alphonse and me?”

“I might as well come along” Cornudo said.

“As might I” the writer added.

The Wooden Indian also stood next to them, signaling his intention to come along.

The group said their goodbyes to the ship’s crew, and proceeded to walk north, towards Surtur’s lands.

A while later, the writer and Cornudo were swapping jokes. “..Oh that one was terrible” the writer laughed. “But wait, I have a worse one! You know what a finch is?”

“Yeah, a type of bird” the professor said.

“well, one finch travels to a faraway island and sees a local finch with a long, twisted beak. Assuming it was the result of natural selection, the newcomer says, “Hi! That’s uh, a great beak you have!” to which the other finch responded, “You should have seen it before I talked back to my wife.”

The two men then laughed themselves silly (the rest of the group was not amused.)

Suddenly a small, feathered object dive-bombed the writer!

“OUCH! What was that?”

The small bird came for another pass, biting him on an ear.

“Yeowch! Someone help!”

But everyone was busy laughing!

“Yeah yeah very funny (ducks the bird) Benedict, could you breathe fire on it or something?”

But the bird stopped on a nearby branch, where it could be seen to be adjusting a pair of glasses it wore. “That’s what you get for making fun of finches!!” it spat out.

“Hey, I’m sorry! I didn’t there were- umm- any talking birds around these parts!”

“Are you a Paul? Because Pauls are always jerks. We Harolds hate all Pauls!”

“No I’m not called Paul, my name is Wilfredo. And judging someone by their name is just as bad as judging them for being birds, don’t you think?”

The bird seemed to think about that for a second, then gave him a kind of I’m watching you look, and then flew away.

“Geez, this world is crazy” he said aloud. The group continued their journey, and before long they were trading jokes again.

“OK”the writer began “There was this old man who had a wooden cuckoo clock, and it-"

But before he could finished, a cuckoo bird attacked him!

“A CLOCK! IT’S ABOUT A CLOCK DAMMIT!!” (everybody else laughed)

Meanwhile back on the coastline, a kite could be seen flying by itself over the sea. Almost too small to be seen, a white rat was hanging and guiding it, gliding on expertly on the air currents.

-*Useless robot dog* it thought. *I should have known that if I wanted Cornudo gone, I had to destroy him myself!*

But where was the ship? They had received the message from their spy that they were traveling along the coast. So where- hey, is that it? It looks like- it sank!?

-*Well, that’s a relief*, Whitey thought. *Now I can continue with my plans unopp-* SPLAT! It was hit by a flying pie!

“NOOO!!”it screamed, as it plunged into the sea below.

So... no comments or suggestions for part 9?

edited 12th Mar '13 5:58:17 PM by Sijo

• A fire fairy who uses a cigarette holder as a magic wand.
• Someone getting launched into space by a see-saw.

You said you were keeping some stuff from part seven to use later. So I actually forgot to suggest anything. Also I liked seeing Whitey trying to attack them and getting hit by a pie. I hope we get to see him again in the future (wait, since I suggested him do I look suspicious to say so?). In exchange, lemme suggest:

• A pub fight which becomes a pub quiz... And then a pub fight again.
• Have Sir Alphose to try out some alchemy technique to get his body back, but have him to "fail" by creating worthless yellow rocks.
• See the beard in this page? Have the hermit to go badass like that. Don't need to use the rest of the page, I'm just linking to it because of the visual aid.

Part 7 was going to include a fight between the two giants, but I decided it was too long already so I'm saving it for later. Also, don't feel bad about revisiting ideas; for all purposes, YOU people are writing this story, I'm just filling in the blanks. So give me all the suggestions you can!

Have Harold and Whitney to team up.

Attack led by snakes with wings.

Do you mean Whitey?

Yes

Anybody got suggestions for Stephanie? when last we saw her, she was running into the ocean...

An Ent points their way towards one of the brothers, and they need to sneak past the lighthouse ot get to him; so someone unseen plays "Hail to the Chief" on a reed, and the Chief walks by, drawing attention and pies, while the rest of them sneak by. They then need to use wood polish as part of the kit used to clean all the pie fillings and crusts off the Chief, after they are all past it.

Part of this from memory of what's gone on in the story prior to this point, of course.