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Fantasy story round robin


Minaku

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How a round-robin (or an improfanfic) works:

A person begins with the prompt. Then, people sign up to take their turn to write a short section. Once there are enough people, the round-robin begins!

Signup will last for three days until Wednesday at this time. From then on, anyone who wants to abandon the round robin may abandon, and that slot will be available unless it is that person's turn. If it is his turn and no one has signed up for the slot, that slot will be skipped and the next person in line will take his or her turn.

Writers have three days to offer their new section. (Please, no one-liners.) To acknowledge that you know it is your turn, please post with the subject line of "tagged", and from then on you will have three days to write. New sections should be posted both in this thread and in the Forum Games thread.

Any questions? Feel free to ask.

The story will be updated in this post so that others may read it.

This story got its humble beginning in the fantasy pet peeves thread. I tried to write something that would avoid one, or two, or three.

Writer list:

1. Minaku

2. Isis

3. RedSock in Westeros

4. Mephistopheles

5. diabloblanco18

6. Maid Sansa

7. MinDonner

8. Sir Bazzlebane

9. The Mad Moose

10. Baleraxar

11. 14th Dragon

12. Alytha

13. The Wolf Maid

14. Snowbeat

Sub list:

The Story:

Prologue

Trudd Yornbear was a normal person.

Normal. He was of average height and had an average build, with a face that could perhaps launch a dinghy if he taunted somebody's mother from across Forze Creek. He had watery blue eyes and darkish hair that was nothing special unless it grew into a mullet of frightening proportions. In his little farm town on the outskirts of the outskirts of Kelane City, he occupied a grunt's place in a grunt's world, with a grunt's intelligence and a grunt's humor.

Like most of the other people in town Trudd's family consisted of farmers and farmwives descended from basic stock, although like most of the other people in town the Yornbears claimed to be distantly related to the great Hammer Greatmage, whose reputation was so great that women would quite literally flock to him. This in turn was the reason why most everybody natural to Kelane could claim relations with him. "He was my great-great-grandfather's uncle!" someone would say. "Oh no," someone else would say competitively, "but he was was the father of my great-great aunt's illegitimate child."

In Trudd's town, tracing lineages became the favorite pastime.

"Did you know that Hammer Greatmage fathered a child with my great great aunt's cousin twice removed?" Trudd said one day during the walk back from the oat field.

"Last time, you said that he was your great great great uncle's third cousin." Rowan Darkfall eyed his friend with a mixture of exasperation and suspicion, his mouth twisted into a frown. Like all the other folk in the town he too was descended from Hammer Greatmage, but he couldn't really make anything up about his ancestors because he was an orphan.

"Did I? You must have heard wrong." Trudd pursed his lips and regarded Rowan sternly. "I told you to check your hearing, you keep misunderstanding me."

Rowan snorted and rolled his eyes, which were incidentally a deep forest green. "You're an asshole," he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Trudd perked up. "What was that you said? My mother?"

"My son!"

Rowan halted mid-stride, blinking confusedly at the incredibly good-looking middle-aged man that had suddenly appeared before him, pointing at him. "Who, me?"

"Who, him?" Trudd echoed, just as confusedly.

"Am I pointing at him, genius?" replied the man, who was stylishly dressed in a charcoal pinstriped suit with a white shirt and pale blue necktie. "Shut up."

"What?" Trudd wasn't particularly bright - grunt's IQ and all - so he blurted out the next thing that came to his mind. "Don't tell me to shut up!"

"When I tell you to shut up, you will shut the fuck up." The man waggled his fingers at Trudd, and suddenly, Trudd felt an overwhelming urge to be silent.

The man turned back to Rowan, who had been standing with his mouth open at the exchange. "Now. Where was I?"

Rowan worked his mouth, trying to get the words out. "M... My son?"

"Right. My son. You. You have a duty to come with me, the great Hammer Greatmage, for it is now your destined time to - oh shit, hold on, I forgot the lines." He rummaged around in his inside pocket and drew forth a wrinkled napkin covered in chickenscratch. "Behold!" he read aloud. "You, the blood of my blood, must face your destiny and fulfill your greatness! You have a duty to come with me, the great Hammer Greatmage, who has prophesized your coming from fifty years in the future! You, Rowan - that is your name, right?"

Rowan stood, stupefied, for a few seconds before he answered. "How did you know?"

Hammer Greatmage smiled mysteriously, but never got a chance to reply, for at that exact moment a giant dragon blinked into existence above their heads and spewed forth a torrent of flame, laying waste to the fields, the farms, the people, and of course Rowan and Trudd, who melted instantaneously. "Mother fucker!" cursed Hammer Greatmage, who was immune to these sorts of sneak attacks anyway. He gesticulated wildly, and suddenly a porthole opened up and Chuck Norris appeared to roundhouse kick the dragon in the face, killing him instantly. He then leapt back through the porthole and it sealed up behind him.

"Goddamn dragon singed my threads." Hammer Greatmage turned back to the pile of ash formerly known as Rowan. "My s - oh, hell. This is the third time he's done this, now." Annoyed, Hammer tucked the napkin back into his pocket and pulled out a grimy Post-It note. "Guess I should go for the next one now." Rummaging around in his pants pocket, he pulled out a stubby pencil and crossed out the third name. "Let's see, the next Rowan is... podunk town in the south." Hammer sighed, put the sticky note away, crossed his arms, and disappeared with a tiny puff of smoke.

Our story begins here.

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I would like to sign up. I propose that once we start writing and posting, we have a new thread dedicated to the story by itself.

Sounds good! I'll add you to the list and when we start writing, I'll create a new thread.

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I'm in. How many people are you going to wait to join before starting this thing?

Depends on how many people are interested. I'm going to keep it open for a few more days and see who joins. Generally I think not more then 10 people decide to jump in.

Everyone's been added to the list!

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I'm moving this to a more appropriate forum... since it seems to be just to recruit people, Literature. But the writing itself, well, that's a game so please keep such threads to the Forum Games section. :)

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Ser Bazzlebane, may I then suggest you arm yourself with something else but your hatred? You might get summarily cut down by the sharp deluge of words from Moose's Keyboard of Truth otherwise...

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