This is my story.

[Sethian]

This time in the correct section, peruse away, world!

Forewords: many of you have asked me "what is the "tigerbuddy"?". Okay, no one ACTUALLY asked, but I got you wondering what who there, didn't I? Anyway, many of you have probably atleast thought wtf is tigerbuddy. Well, this story will shed some light on this mysterious issue, and it also comes with a teaching. No one likes stories with teachings, but this one is a good one: DO NOT DRINK COCA COLA BEFORE GOING TO BED. That hyde park will mess you up and then you can't sleep and this is what happens.

-
The essence of tigerbuddy.

Sun began it’s lazy climb over the distant mountains as the two traveller’s arrived at the small hut. The master and newfound apprentice dismounted from their mounts – two large tigers, covered with ornate armor and jewelry – and ordered them to stay put until their mistresses would return. The beasts obeyed, drowsily stretching before curling up as comfortably as their plating allowed.

“Master, you still have not explained to me why I’m here,” asked the blood elf as they walked inside. She received no answer.

The house was lacking decorations and furniture. Inside was nothing more than a floor of earth and two windows, one of them allowing the still faint sunlight in. Flies floated in the dusty air and the blood elf coughed a bit as the master stomped the ground, preparing a seat.

“Sit,” the master ordered without looking at the blood elf. After she had sat, the master continued: “tell me. What does it, to you, mean to be a tigerbuddy?”

The blood elf thought a moment.

“I cannot put it into words. May I show you instead?”

The master nodded. The blood elf stood up and closed her eyes. She slowly opened them, but not completely, observing the flies of the room through squinted eyes. She chose three which would prove her worth and closed her eyes again, breathing deep and crouched.

With a roar she leapt through the air to a corner, turned in mid-air and jumped again to another corner, repeating this procedure again upon landing and returned to her original position.

The master stood up, finally facing her as the blood elf showed the contents of her hands. Opening her right fist, inside were three flies... and inside the left were three pairs of wings.

The master lowered her head. The blood elf had barely enough time to see the fierce rage burning in the master’s eyes before a sharp pain burned her left cheek as the master struck out with her cane.

“Insolent wench! You defile the very essence of tigerbuddy with your stunts! Is this truly how little you know? The tigerbuddy is not silly anime ninja tricks. The tigerbuddy... The tigerbuddy is something much deeper! Observe.”

Rubbing her swelling cheek, the blood elf watched closely as the master sat down, legs crossed. She lowered her head, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Draw your strength... from the tiger. Imagine you’re a cub... a three-week-old cub, bathing away a Sunday afternoon.”

“Why a Sunday, master?”

“Fool! The tiger has no knowledge of weekdays! To it every day is a Sunday!” the master hissed. “Now watch, and learn.”

The master, legs and arms still crossed, lowered herself to lie on her back. She raised her arms slightly above her face, clenching them somewhat. Then, she unwrapped her legs and kicked at the air, following the kick with a clawing motion.

“Just a little cub...” she whispered, and meowed.

Lost within profound confusion, the blood elf watched as the master rocked on the floor, clawing and kicking and meowing.

“Master... This is all very sweet, but...” the blood elf began, but she was interrupted as the master, faster than her eye could follow, shot up and thrust her cane through the air. The blood elf was unsure if she should finish the sentence, or rather unsure if she could finish it: the burning madness in her masters eyes, now mere inches away from hers, seemed to swallow all thoughts from her head.

“The essence of tigerbuddy: 95% sweet, 5% pro,” the master whispered.

“What is it, to be pro?” whispered the blood elf. A whisper was the most she could muster, her throat was suddenly feeling very dry.

“Look behind.”

The blood elf turned to watch over her shoulder, to see what the master’s arm, brushed against her cheek was pointing at. There was nothing.

“I can’t...” she began.

“Look closer! Or better yet, turn around,” the master said.

The blood elf turned, then gasped shocked. With the sound of wind rustling fallen leaves, a dead gnome appeared before her. A stealthed dead gnome. The master lowered her head.

“To be pro,” she said, “is to kill a rogue before it’s stealth falls.”

“But master, does stealth not fall from taking damage?”

The master nodded.

“You are now beginning to understand.”

“Master! Is it not impossible to kill something without damaging it?”

The master nodded again.

“I can only repeat myself. You are now beginning to understand. The pro make the impossible... less than impossible,” she said, swinging the dead gnome off the cane. It destealthed as it hit the ground.

“Clean the mess. Then we will begin training.”

They spun on the ground, kicking, clawing and meowing until the sun was little more than a memory behind the mountains and the moon began it’s ascendance. The great cats yawned, even after sleeping all day, as their mistresses mounted them to begin the long journey home.

“Do you now understand the essence of tigerbuddy?”

“Yes, master. 95% sweet, 5% pro.”

The master nodded.

“You now understand the sweet. Tomorrow we will master the pro.”

“But master, am I ready to kill a rogue without breaking it’s stealth?”

The master guffawed.

“Hell no, but we will practice. You will kill rogues until one does not destealth.”

“Do you think I will learn it quickly?”

“I hope not, there can never be too few rogues.”

The maddened glare was back in the master’s eyes. The blood elf thought for a moment. It was best to change the subject fast instead of winding her up.

“Master, may I ask a question?”

“Yes, if it’s not a stupid one.

“I thought there were no stupid questions, only stupid answers?”

“See, that’s a stupid question.”

The blood elf bit her lip.

“I will ask it anyway. Why me?”

“Why you what?”

“Why did you choose me? To be your apprentice, your tigerbuddy?”

The master laughed.

“Because I didn’t have a troll.”

“You didn’t have a troll?”

“A troll for a tigerbuddy. They make the best tigerbuddies. They’re always relaxed.”

“Do you think I will make a good tigerbuddy?”

“Not as good as a troll would. But perhaps, one day, with great training I will not have to be deeply ashamed of you being my tigerbuddy.”

The blood elf frowned.

“But that will take many rogues,” the master said and continued under her breath: “but not nearly as many as I would like.”

“Master, I will work hard to be a tigerbuddy you can be proud of.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Remember the essence of tigerbuddy: practice is the key to success.”

“I thought it was 95% sweet 5% pro?”

“The essence of tigerbuddy: the master is always correct.”

“Master, you changed it again.”

“The essence of tigerbuddy: it never changes.”

“You just did it again!”

“Did what?”

“Changed the essence!”

“Ah, but how can I, a mere mortal, change the very essence of tigerbuddy? It is not something I can govern.”

“Yes, but...” the blood elf began, then bit her lip after realising she’d been led to a trap. The master sighed.

“This is why I wanted a troll,” she muttered as they faded in the distance.

[Rotheus]

[blizzard]Made of Win[/blizzard]

pure and simple xD especially the dead gnome part :p

[caine]

"but master does stealth not fall from taking damage?"

nice one seth, now what am I downloading?



that song's cleveland up ...

[Sethian]

Chapter two - The art of map

The crisp morning air was filled with the lulling chirping of birds and the concert of crickets. Morning dew glistened on the petals of flowers and grass swaying in the wind, overlooked by a rainbow stretching from one edge of the lush valley to another.

The only sign of the storm that had raged the night before was the small cabin left in ruins, sticking out like a scar in this otherwise so primitively pristine scenery.

Along the dirt road approached two riders. The master and the apprentice would begin another day of exhausting training to reach the heart of tigerbuddy.

“Oh no! Master, the hut!”

“Most displeasing. Oh well. I was thinking we would spend the day outdoors regardless.”

The master reached inside a deep pocket inside her robe and pulled out a large scroll, closed with a red, dangling ribbon. She pulled the ribbon open, revealing a map decorated with a myriad of expensive colors and ornate drawings, with notes such as “here be dragons” and “here be cheap fish” scribbled near arrowmarks.

The master quickly viewed her map, then returned her attention to her apprentice, first without expressing emotions, then with growing irritations.

“Well?” the master asked, tapping her foot. “It’s rude to keep me waiting.”

“Waiting for what, master?” the apprentice asked, knowing full well she would be whacked for this. She was correct.

“Fool! When a tigerbuddy draws his or her map, others nearby must draw theirs immediately!”

The apprentice sighed. Her cheeks, which once had been silky smooth and preciously white, were now perpetually swollen and bruised because of her master’s bad temper.

“I don’t have a map,” she said, followed by a strike to her left cheek.

“Kingdom for a troll,” the master muttered. “Not only do they come prepared, they play the meanest harmonica. Fine. We will get you a map, sit.”

They sat down on the moist ground and the master closed her eyes.

“Extend your arm and close your eyes,” she said, and the apprentice did as told.

“Oh great spirits! Spirits of the tiger! Heed the call of your buddy! This child is lost without guidance, without a map! To be a tigerbuddy without a map is blasphemy! Grant this poor fool a beacon to follow, grant her vision to guide her path!” the master bellowed.

The apprentice held her arm straight ahead of her still. It was starting to feel uncomfortably numb.

“Move your hand a bit to the left,” said the master.

“A bit more.”

“Good, now grasp.”

“Don’t move your hand while you grasp.”

“More to the left.”

“Your left.”

“Oh come on. Which one is left?... There you go, now grasp.”

“Oh for the love of God,” said the master and the apprentice felt a bony hand grabbing her arm and shoving a wrapped object in her hand. She opened her eyes out of surprise only to find her master sitting as if she hadn’t moved at all.

“Master, why didn’t you just give me the map in the first place?”

“Who, what, me? I gave you nothing,” the master said, shifting her eyes.

“Master, I felt your hand.”

“It was the spirits.”

“The spirits have very bony hands.”

“Don’t you mock the spirits lest you want a whooping.”

“I don’t think the spirits can do that, master.”

“No, but I can do it in their place.”

The apprentice felt it was best to drop the subject.

The master stood up and opened her map. The apprentice immediately followed and was stunned from the sight of her own map.

While the master’s one was undoubtedly fantastic work, it was worn out and the colors had begun to fade. Hers, on the other hand, was brand spanking new, with the colors almost jumping out from the pergament. Instead of simple, hand-drawn arrows, there were beautiful illustrations of dragons, gryphons and a cornucopia with fish falling out.

“Very good. Now, we begin the training in the art of map.”

“The art of map, master?”

“Ah, the art of map! Such an elegant and intimate display of coaction can only be compared to the finest waltz performed by two lovers! It is something where the souls of those partaking merge into one to find the correct way to travel!”

“How fabulous, master! Let's start right away!” the apprentice said, excited of something her master, usually so stoic, expressed such great enthusiasm about.

“Very well. Let us begin.”

The master stepped next to her, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Through squinted eyes she observed their surroundings.

“Tell me, do you see that rock?”

“Yes, what of it.”

“I think we’re here,” the master said, pointing at a spot on the apprentice’s map.

“Really? But look at those trees. We’re clearly here.”

“No no no. There’s a third tree behind them, see here. It’s clearly this spot.”

“Ah, you’re right. That would mean... yes, I can see the two trees, they’re on the opposite side.”

“That would mean we need to go... this way,” the master said and walked into the bushes.

“Master, when does the part you described come?” the apprentice said and ran after her.

“You just took part in it.”

“What? But that was hardly anything elegant!”

“But it lead us to the right way, did it not?”

“I suppose, but...”

“No buts! You’re displeasing the spirits.”

Muttering under her breath, the apprentice followed the master through the growth. They passed through nettles, thorny bushes and a rather disgruntled bear before reaching a secluded forest meadow with a river flowing into a pond filled with lilies nearby.

“Oh, master! This place is wonderful.”

“Such is the art of map,” the master said, skillfully rolling up her map and tying the bow with a single motion, then hid it in the depths of her robe.

Then, the apprentice noted something disturbing. Their tigers were resting next to the pond, one of them drowsily clawing the water in hopes of catching an unwary fish.

“Master, how are our tigers here?”

The master bit her lip, then in a blink was observing her map.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

 “Well. I suppose we could have taken the road.”

“What?”

“Take out your map, for crying out loud. I’ve had mine out for ages.”

The master stepped next to the apprentice.

“See here. This is where we started. Then we passed through here, over to here, crossing the river here, this is where the bear was, we went here... and turned back from the cliff to here, then went there, through here, climbed over this, under that, and finally we came through from here.”

“Okay, so where is the road.”

The master walked a bit forward and pointed straight. The apprentice followed.

“...Master, is that the rock where we started from.”

“Yes,” the master said, looking at her map.

“So... we spent half the day to go through an excruciating journey of pain, dozens of burns, bug bites, wet socks and stings when we could’ve just walked fifteen steps down from where we were?”

“Oh, come on. It was not an excruciating journey.”

“I respectfully disagree, master. You’re not the one bitten by the bear.”

“Whine, whine, whine. All you do is whine. A troll would’ve noticed my mistake,” the master grumbled, rolling her eyes. “Now get yourself together. We have a hut to build.”

That night they camped at the location where they would build a new hut. In the embers of the campfire crackled a beautifully illustrated, brand spanking new map.

[Linanthus]

/Map

[Sethian]

Chapter 3: Of fags and tigerbuddies

The master sat in her rocking chair on the porch of the new training hut, smoking a pipe. Somewhere in the distance, behind the veil of morning mist, was the apprentice on her way to bring them water from the river nearby.

The apprentice was thicker than a rock, but they were making progress, the master thought. She had learned when to pull out her map and when not to and she was getting the hang of slaying a rogue without it’s stealth falling. Yes, many newbie mistakes were being shed.

Soon, the dim figure of the apprentice walked into vision, carrying a barrel of water on her head. Not only had she gotten mentally sharper, her physical strength had also increased.

“Good morning, master.”

“Morning, apprentice. Anything to report?”

“Yes. I saw travellers and invited them to come visit us.”

The master frowned. Although good manners were important, and in that sense she should have been proud of her apprentice, she was not in the mood of hosting people who undoubtedly would be hungry. Especially not when their stock of food was already diminishing at a steady rate thanks to the bottomless stomach of the apprentice.

Before she let her apprentice hear her thoughts, from the mist emerged two great, gray tigers, mounted on them a male and a female elf, noticeably taller than her apprentice.

Night elves, cringed the master.

“Elune-adore,” greeted the male elf. Their simple clothes, fit for any ragtag scamp, weren’t enough to hide how wealthy they were. The shiny fur of the tigers and the fact they had worn heavy armor until recently were a sign enough for the master’s keen eyes.

“Sup,” said the master, puffing her pipe.

“It is very kind of you to have strangers under your roof like this. Usually we could not accept such an offer, so generous you are, but these are difficult times for me and my husband, and we promise we will repay you as soon as we can.”

“Under our roof?” muttered the master to the apprentice. The apprentice grinned wildly while furiously shaking her head up and down.

“I was wondering, could you show us where we are on a map? This deep growth conceals the path from city-dwellers like ourselves...” said the male elf, went through the bag on the left side of his tiger and pulled out a map. Before the master could blink the apprentice had already pulled out her map and was observing it with a stern look on her face.

The master whapped her palm against her face and leered at the apprentice.

“Would you excuse us for just one moment?” asked the master and pulled on the most charming smile she could achieve, which wasn’t much since all the while she was murderously glaring at her apprentice. She grabbed the apprentice’s arm, yanked it so hard the apprentice squealed in shock and dragged her inside.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” screamed the master, whacking the apprentice with her map. “Inviting people for dinner and games is one thing, but to STAY with us?”

“But, but master! I only did what you told me to do!” the apprentice whimpered, shielding herself from the blows. A rolled up scroll can be surprisingly painful if swung with enough force.

“I don’t recall telling you such!”

“You did! You did! “When a tigerbuddy is in trouble, you must do everything you can do to help them!””

The master stared blankly at the apprentice, then at the apprentice’s map she had used as a bludgeoning tool and pulled out her own map aswell, then continued thrashing.

Outside the elves were listening to the screams, wondering if staying there would be such a good idea.

After a moment the master calmed down, breathing heavily.

“You... do... NOT... pull out your map in the presence of fags,” growled the master. “And most importantly, you do NOT invite fags to stay with you.”

“F-f-fags, master?” sniveled the apprentice. “I did not know! I thought they were tigerbuddies...”

“Just because the rode tigers? Ignorant fool! Do you think, in this world torn by war, everyone who rides a tiger is a tigerbuddy? Hah!”

“Then tell me, master! How do I know who is a tigerbuddy and who is not!” the apprentice asked, eyes teary with rage. How could she have known when the master hadn’t taught her yet?

“A fag... Once, long, long ago, when tigers roamed free and wild, there were only tigerbuddies. They rode on the free tigers, frolicing in the jungles and grassy plains, living in harmony with nature. Then, some of them fell. They began selling tigers to people who abused them, treated them like pets and slaves instead of friends.”

“Are these fags, master? The ones who abused the tigers?”

“What? No. Fags are people who have tigers and aren’t cool.”

“...What?”

“Tigerbuddies are people who have tigers and are cool. Fags are people who have tigers and aren’t cool.”

“Isn’t that a bit harsh, master?”

“Nope.”

“So, because night elves have tamed tigers to ride on...”

“They’re all fags, yep. So are the rest of the alliance. Except dwarves. They’re a hoot. Same goes for the horde. If you're cool you're a tigerbuddy, if not you're a fag.”

“Then... I am cool, too?”

The master flinched and sighed deep. She had expected this, but not so soon.

“You... it pains me greatly, believe me. But... yes. You are cool.”

The apprentice’s eyes lit up. All this merciless beating, all the bruises and cuts, she had endured them for this moment alone. To be acknowledged “cool” by the master.

“...Don’t look so surprised. You are my tigerbuddy after all.”

“Yes, master,” said the apprentice, swallowing back the tears of happiness.

“Don’t get emotional on me like that,” grumbled the master. “Come. Let’s tell the fags to bugger off.”

They exited the house, only to find a number of tigertracks outside.

“Oh. Seems they thought I was murdering you.”

“What do we do now?”

“What do you think we do?” said the master, lighting her pipe again. “We kick back again. Today is a day of relaxation.”

The master returned to her rocking chair, and the apprentice picked up her fishing rod and was about to head back to the river, when suddenly the skies went dark and thunder began crashing. Rain poured down heavily from the sky which had been clear only moments ago.

“Master! What is this?” yelled the apprentice in panic as the storm grew stronger second by second, but the master didn’t respond, only pointed into the distance.

The apprentice knew the master’s eyes were next to none, but she herself could barely see the figure on a distant mountaintop. She gasped as thunder seemed to strike it, sending rocks rolling down the cliffside.

Suddenly the rain stopped, and though the skies were still dark and crackling with lightning, she could see the figure much more clearly now. It was now running down the cliff... on a boulder the strike of lightning had set loose. She glanced at the master, only to find her looking sternly at the figure, approaching them fast. Now she could see it too... The figure was a troll, mounted on a great tiger.

The boulder hit a natural ramp, flying high into the air, the troll’s hand pointing at the direction it flew at. When it was over them, his tiger jumped off, landing perfectly in front of the master as the boulder kept flying, shortly hitting the ground causing a small earthquake.

“Good day, m’am. I wonder where I’m at,” said the troll and pulled out a map. Quicker than the apprentice’s eyes could follow the master had pulled out her map, whapped the apprentice with it and opened it again for observance. She hastily pulled out hers too: there was no mistake this time, this person was a full-fledged tigerbuddy.

“You’re right about... here,” said the master, pointing at the troll’s map.

“Ah, excellent. I was told in the distant land of the trolls that you are a great master of tigerbuddies. I have come to seek your guidance.”

“Excuse me for interrupting, but aren’t trolls like, all about the “ya” and “mon” and stuff?” said the apprentice. The master and the troll ignored her.

“Excuse my apprentice, she can be brazen at times. You have found who you seek, troll. I would be honored to have you as my tigerbuddy.”

“And the elf? Is she a tigerbuddy aswell?” asked the troll, looking at the apprentice suspiciously.

“She? Looks like a fag, doesn’t she.”

“She sure does.”

“I’m right here,” muttered the apprentice.

“But as unbelievable as it is, yes, she is my tigerbuddy. Although she has a long way to go to where you stand, good troll...”

“It is a well known fact trolls make the best tigerbuddies.”

“That they do, my good buddy, that they do.”

For some reason, both the master and the troll burst into laughter as they walked inside the hut, and heavily sighing, the apprentice knew things wouldn’t be the same anymore.

[Sethian]

Lyrics for the brain pig song. But why in this thread? For starters, to not spam the forum too much. And second...

Tigerbuddies are more than meets the eye. Much, much more.

Kneel down and pray
At the altar of the brain pig
Going in for the kill
At the altar of the brain pig

There is a king, greater than any man
There is a pig, greatest in all the land
Brain pig rules with an iron hoof
Brain pig rules with an iron hoof

Kneel down and pray
At the altar of the brain pig
Going in for the kill
At the altar of the brain pig

Brain pig rules with an iron hoof
And now brain pig must die
Brain pig’s rule will end
Now brain pig must die

Kneel down and pray
At the altar of the brain pig
Going in for the kill
At the altar of the brain pig

Sixteen men would die
At the altar of the brain pig
We’ll end his reign tonight
At the altar of the brain pig

[Ruz]

:D

Hail the brainpig!

[Sethian]

Edited title so I can post other crap here too (and because no matter what others say, I thought FFX was hella good)! Fresh from microsoft word: A boy called Benny

I once knew a boy called Benny, and Benny had a golden goat. This goat had a talent not many others did, for it could bring down the moon.

“But why would you want to draw down the moon?” asked Benny with worry in his voice.

“Baah,” replied the goat, with a distinct tremble of pride.

So Benny walked to the highest of hills and set free his golden goat, and “lo” did the goat baa, and so Benny did. And true enough, moon came down and was drawn near Benny, who screeched in terror and fear.

“Put it back in the sky, this is not right!” said Benny afeared, but the goat could not. Much of it’s power the drawing used, and now the moon was stuck in the mountainside.

“Whatever will we do, we will surely be in trouble for this!” cried Benny, but the goat ignored him and started eating the moon. Chowing through the stellar object, Benny prayed it to stop.

But did the goat stop? Oh no. It kept eating and feeding and Benny, teary-eyed, ran down the mountainside to find help.

Soon, Benny came to a house made of copper and pebbles. He knocked on the door, cling clang.

“Yes?” said the resident of the house. He was a man made of money, and Benny asked if he would help Benny put the moon back in the sky.

“Yes, of course I can my boy,” said the man made of money, “but you must pay for it, and dearly you must pay.”

Benny went through his pockets, but only found a penny. He offered it to the man made of money, but the man laughed at him with it’s voice sounding like coins tossed against each other.

“Your penny, my Benny, is not nearly enough. But maybe you can pay me with other kind of stuff.”

“What then,” asked Benny, and the man laughed again.

“Go to the fen,” said the man, “into the witch’s den, and bring me her purse of gold. Surely the crone, old and alone needs not such fortune in a place so remote.”

So Benny went to find the house of the witch, but he found no house or hut. Instead what he found was a hole in the ground leading deep into a cave.

“The witch’s den, I presume,” said Benny, and walked through the cave into a room. Inside the den he found no crone, but a beautiful maiden, a virgin of old.

“M-m-madam?” stuttered Benny, unsure if what he saw was a spell or a ploy, “do you know where the witch resides, for I must find her purse for the man made of coin?”

The girl looked at him and so did she say: “to steal from the witch, you’ve come not I pray.”

Benny shook in his shoes but still told her: “nay, I humbly request it, a loan if you may. For if I don’t find it my goat, so I fear, will eat all of moon” and shed a small tear.

The maiden went from her cauldron, and Benny did wait, but when she came back for Benny, an escape was too late. Now the maiden was gone and what only remained, was a terrible hag, by centuries stained.

“Speaks like a liar, so never you leave! Now, intruder, in my pot you can grieve!”

Helpless and bound by magical chains, Benny’s cries were no longer restrained. He shouted and screamed and the witch covered her ears, so Benny seized the moment and made his point clear.

“I didn’t come to steal, m’am,” he boldly stated, “I only come to have the greed of the man made of money sated.”

Despite all logic the witch did believe, but she wouldn’t grant her purse quite so easy.

“There is a task I need you to do, you are to travel away and you must do it soon. I need the shine of a star from the north, so bring it to me, now go on, go forth!”

With a deep sigh Benny left the lair, went through the tunnel and ascended the stair. He looked at the mountain where his goat still fed, half the moon gone, but a scythe still left. So he went north, up the highest of hills, and screamed into the night, clouded and still:

“Come out, o’ north star, where ever you are! You must lend me your shine, for I’ve travelled this far! Surely you’ve noted how lonesome’s the sky, the moon is gone for good if you deny!”

Down came the north star and Benny’s heart shook, by the star’s beauty Benny was took; how could he ask for the shine of one such, the blossoming beauty was asking too much.

“What have you done with the moon?” asked that star and clear worry did Benny hark, “if he won’t return the night is dead, daylight takes over forever, I fret!”

“It may be too much but still I must ask, would you spare me your shine for the witch’s task?”

“No, not ever, not now nor nevermore!”

“But without it the witch won’t grant me her purse, and without the purse I can’t pay the man made of money!”

“Why, oh why do you ask so steep a price?”

“Because the man made of money is not made of rice.”

With deep curiosity the star did look, and Benny still in his leather boots shook.

“What do you mean, why do you say such?”

“If the man made of money was made out of rice, I wouldn’t need to pay such a price. I could feed him to birds that fly, steal his magic and return the moon to the sky!”

The north star thought for a moment’s time, then told Benny it would not give it’s shine.

“But fear not, young lad! Else can be done. But you must do something, something quite bad.”

Benny listened and listened well, listened to what the star had to tell. He objected, told it no, but in the end Benny obeyed.

He returned to the witch with the star’s “shine”, and so did the witch’s eyes shine; but when the witch opened the star she screamed in pain, it was not starglow but a plan not benign. What cruelty she’d shown was showered upon her, retribution was all but swift. The hungering souls in the jar formed a rift, and sucked in it the wretched cur.

Benny chuckled as he stole the witch’s magic, and returned to the house of the man made of money.

“Have you brought me the witch’s purse?” asked the man made of money.

“I’ve brought you something worse,” laughed Benny catastrophically.

The man made of money roared in pain as him and his house were turned into rice; down came the birds and fed on him, what was left Benny fed to the mice.

What magic Benny sought he couldn’t find, to return to the moon to the sky; yet defying nature’s harmony, the north star flew to him.

“cute-bunny you, Benny!” it roared with might, “I am a demon and much you have sinned, you’re coming with me, this is the end!”

“Nay, fiend,” said Benny, his eyes blazing with wrath. “You may have deceived me, but those I have sinned against will be avenged once I defeat you!”

Benny, uttering words of magic he’d studied at the witch’s den, was surrounded by a rain of frost and flame, and emerged clad in an armor of radiant glow.

“What treachery is this?” boomed the star, “the shine I granted you, did you not defeat the witch with it?”

“Nay, not all. Some I saved for my own use,” Benny said and with a battlecry leapt at the star, swinging his mighty hammer with a clash of thunder.

Surging across the sky the star-dressed demon fled, leaving Benny behind. Benny stared at his goat and the remnants of moon, and thought to himself, “what will I do?”

Then he looked at the hammer and looked at the goat, and after some magic paddled an astral boat, bringing the moon (or what little was left) back to it’s home in the starry night; what happened to the goat, then, you might ask. I’ll tell you, spare an ear and for a moment sit tight;

One could say Benny had a hella pricey meal, because golden goats, they’re more expensive than babies of the Seal. Not the animal, nay, for that would be brutal, but Seal kinda sucks so that is okay.

[Selassie]

Your writing reminds me alot of Neil Gaiman.

If you don't see this as a compliment, you got some reading to do.

[Sethian]

Because people have been asking "wtf is Brain Pig song about? Whytf do 16 men die?" etc. (actually just Barney has, but I don't want to point fingers and make him look stupid) explanation is as follows:

In Reign of the Brain Pig, Dpsbear and the other captured rebels have ambushed the Brain Pig’s high priest and his court, which conveniently consists of 16 men – exactly as many as they are. Dressed in their clothes, Dpsbear and the rebels infiltrate the inner sanctum of Brainham Palace.

Pretending to hold a ceremony in the Brain Pig’s honor, Dpsbear and the rebels kneel and wait at Brain Pig’s altar... But as he appears, something terrible happens.

Attempting to draw his sword and assault the Brain Pig, Dpsbear finds himself unable to move. The Brain Pig laughs at their desperation, and Rachel emerges from behind his throne.

“Treacherous whore,” Dpsbear mutters with the last ounces of his strength as Brain Pig’s corruptions once again seeps into his mind. Rachel draws her dagger and cuts open the throats of Dpsbear’s men one by one before kneeling to his ear and whispering “the pawns can be sacrificed to prevent the loss of the king” and brings her bloodied dagger closer to Dpsbear.

In Battle of Brainham, Jonathan questions Clancy about his motives, accusing him of treacherous deeds towards Brain Pig. Clancy points out that the point of a rebellion is not playing by the tyrant’s rules.

Regardless, the rebels are losing faith after hearing that Dpsbear would be soon executed, unbeknownst to them that he has already escaped his cell (although now facing a different kind of execution).

Clancy reminds them why they became rebels in the first place. With their morale boosted, the rebels raise their swords and cheer at Clancy. Preparations to attack Brain Pig’s castle – the Brainham Palace – begin.

Disappointed of the failure of his plan, Jonathan sneaks out unnoticed.

Lyrics for Battle of Brainham:

Do you hear the people’s cries for heroes
That desperation is why to arms we rose
Rose against the tyrant, to end his reign of terror
Dpsbear by our side, this is the dawn of a new era

Look around, we carry crosses
Burdened by the ghosts of loss
Slaves only to justified hate
Free from the grasp of oppression

In my mind there is no iron halo
No chains bending it under the Brain Pig’s will

Onwards to the gates of Brainham
Where the demon pig resides
A free nation is born from revolution

You call it treachery
But is there really another way?

The time for words is over
Now draw swords
Thirsting for the blood of the Brain Pig

If my life will end tonight
At the battle of Brainham
Remember me as a memory
When the land is finally free

Banish the Brain Pig by bloodshed
Drown his orders with warcries
The folly of the warlord set
Motion to his own death

If my life will end tonight
At the battle of Brainham
Remember me as a memory
When the land is finally free

Hand of fate guide my own
May the pig be overthrown

If my life will end tonight
At the battle of Brainham
Remember me as a memory
When the land is finally free

Banish the Brain Pig by bloodshed
Drown his orders with warcries
The folly of the warlord set
Motion to his own death

Draw your strength not from hate
From righteous vengeance in it’s stead
Stay alive and true my brothers
By nightfall on Brain Pig’s corpse we spit

Look into these eyes of mine
You’ll see no fear nor regret

[Sethian]

After Brain Pig's lifeless body falls to the ground before the Throne of Gods, a vision strikes Dpsbear of Rachel's death. In the vision she pleads him to return to Brain Pig's sanctum, the chapel of hushed voices, to meet one last time.

Dpsbear leaves the rebels to deal with the aftermath and heads inwards, finding Rachel lying over the Brain Pig's altar.

She explains the reasons beyond her actions - how she'd gained the trust of Brain Pig by binding her life to it's. In doing so she managed to avert it's attentions from Dpsbear's return until it was too late.

Yet, this had cost many lives of her kin, and she accepts death as judgement for her sins. Given the chance, she wouldn't have done anything differently. Had it not bought peace at last?

Like Trinity in Matrix 3, she elaborately and in great length explains an incredibly complex plot, despite being barely able to breathe. She dies, but conveniently finishes her speech before doing so. Like Neo in Matrix 3, Dpsbear goes emo. Claiming a free world has no need for heroes, after delivering Rachel's body to the rebels, he departs and is never heard of again.

Clancy, realising his daughter was indeed not a traitor, but rather a martyr who understood sacrifices must be made, carves the words "forgiven, not forgotten" on her gravestone the following afternoon.

[Sethian]

The biting chill crept into the tiny bones as the cat ran through the grim woodlands. Panting, it stopped for a moment to see if it’d escaped it’s pursuer. It shot into motion again as the dark figure stepped into moonlight from behind a curve.

It’s chest began to sting, and hearing the growls coming a distance behind it knew it couldn’t outrun the beast. What horrors would befall it... The thought gave it a little more strength to sprint further.

It hid under a fallen tree, catching it’s breath for a moment. The stomping got closer... But it didn’t dare to wish it could avert the assailant so easily.

The pounding steps grew louder and louder, shaking the ground beneath it. It suddenly found it very hard to breathe.

The metal boots came to a halt right in front of it, and it could hear the thing sniffing the air. Howling, it took a step forward, then dropped to one knee and the cat was now brought to face a row of sharp teeth spread in a grin.

It barely managed to avoid the grab, as the living suit of armor fell on the ground where it had hid a split second ago. Through the thinning woods it saw a house over the hillside. Finding help there would be it’s last hope.

But the doors and windows were nailed shut, and no light could be seen inside. Despair surged in it’s heart as the glimmering armor appeared into view.

It ran around the house, jumping in from a window that hadn’t been sealed.

Landing set off a cloud of dust, making it cough. It steadied it’s breath and headed deeper into the house. As it ascended the stairs, it heard the door being pounded in and the sound of splintering wood.

As the plate boots climbed the same stairs it had passed a moment ago, the cat found itself trapped. There was no way out of the room it’d arrived to, and the spiky armor threw it’s shadow on the wall of the hall. It hid itself under the desk in the room.

The armored elf stood at the doorway, observing the room with his gaze. His gaze locked onto the emerald eyes of the cat’s, glittering in the dark and revealing it’s position. The green eyes spread into a full circle as the elf walked closer. The elf... He had something the cat hadn’t expected in it’s worst nightmares.

Ruz tossed the apple between his fists and grinned widely.

A dreadful howl of a violated cat cleaved the night.

[Ruz]

hahahahahah <3

[Linanthus]

xD

<3~