At a Glance:There is an entire industry devoted to churning out hundred book long series for the biggest nerds on the planet. These many-volume stories center on either Star Trek or Dungeons and Dragons. Having not read either of these types of nerd epics I educated myself and went to the book store. I picked up the first two Dragon Lance books I could find (volumes 19 and 23 in the Chronicles of Draconicus) and read the back cover descriptions. With the information gleaned from this rigorous research, I set to work creating a magnum opus for nerd-series readers everywhere. Think of it as a way to accelerate the quest for sexual maturity. You read this one story in about half an hour or you spend valuable teenage years imagining sorceress Historecotmanisis(from when she was evil on the cover of book forty and you could see her nipples through her chain mail bikini) bending over to pick up a spell scroll.
Literary Hack Sub-Genre: Roleplaying Game Cash Cow Epic
Chapter One - Turmoil in ElflandiaThe elf high king loses his monocle in shock at the news.The messenger hurried down the high-arched hallways, assembled from the red rock of the rich Dwarven mines to the north. The messenger had the pointed ears and fine features of the people of Elflandia, his almond shaped eyes flashed brilliant blue as his mersilk robe flowed behind him. He burst into the high king’s chamber, throwing open the intricately detailed ancient doors.
“Ancient Gods!” shouted the startled high king, whirling in his resplendent armor. “You are to knock.”
The messenger knelt dutifully before the high king.
“My king,” said the courier not looking up, “The Dread King Skullulon has arisen once again. His legions of the undead are on the move and have already destroyed our border outposts!”
The king was very surprised, although he probably should not have been considering Skullulon had arisen from his thousand year torpor no less than five times in the last two years. Each time but one he had been vanquished by the great human hero Darestrong Stormheart. The fifth time a shipping mix-up at Skullulon’s office of evil conquest planning caused a thousand skull catapults to be shipped to The Island of Lost Hopes, prematurely ending that attempt at Skullulon’s domination of the Forgotten Worlds. Not that it really mattered; Darestrong would have thwarted him a fifth time. He was already questing and everything.
“We must notify the humans at once!” said the Elven high king in a voice that sounded sort of like a gay but not quite.
The messenger set off on his white horse Myrandyrary for the human kingdom of Draconia, where the humans and dragons had formed an uneasy alliance. It would take days to reach the human capitol city of Old Yorkshire and the messenger, whose name was Trueshot Longbowry, hoped that he would not bring the great human hero back to a city of the dead.Skullulon prepares to lead his troops into battle once again.Meanwhile, in Skullulon’s black citadel of Fel Dethdargoor, the evil mastermind of the undead looked over the maps of the Forgotten Worlds. His generals were gathered around his planning table with him, preparing their next offensive into the Elven lands.
“My lord, perhaps we should reconsider the particulars of the offensive,” complained General and undead viscount Boneacles Von Skeletopolis. “Even our most rotted zombie secret agent knows that Darestrong Stormheart is going to come and send you back into your slightly misnamed thousand year torpor.”
“Silence wretch!” Shouted Skullulon as he hurled a cup made out of a skull and full of human blood at the general. It missed and smashed against a wall made out of skulls, spilling red human blood on the skull floor. “Stormheart is but a mere mortal, and although he has proven troublesome to my plans in the past he has grown old and feeble since my last attack.”
“Sire, that was eight months ago, not nearly enough time for-,” argued General Von Skeletopolis.
“I am Skullolon!” Screamed Skullulon. “I am the king of the undead and immortal! I care not for things like heroes and times.”
“Sire,” interjected Colonel Rotten McFemurocles. “Times is not the correct plural form of ‘time’ in your statement.”
“INFIDELS!” Raged Skullulon and with the combined powers of his mind and his evil he caused Colonel McFemurocles to burst into flames.
Being undead, Colonel McFemurocles was unharmed by the flames that enveloped him, but he sighed and began to pat out the fires on his evil uniform.
“We advance at dusk tomorrow with all ten legions of Death Riders!” He pointed to a really cool model that General Von Skeletopolis’s wife had made the night before to represent all the units and the lands of the Forgotten Worlds.
TOTAL WRECK - crazy-eyed hound is covered in cobwebs, has a vespiary on back, graffiti on side and savage thirst for boat fuel. Frankly, I'm in over my head. He's in room 115 at Motel 6, yours free. 555-2851
Yes, it's the perfect form for surviving a car crash. But it's also the perfect form for so much more, like surviving the trauma of reading any news headline in 2016.
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