Tears of the Harper

AAAAHHHH! Monsters! No, wait, make that HAHAHAHA! Monsters!

So I think it’s about time this story had a drinking game to go with it. Let's try it out:

The Official
MASTER OF FIENDS DRINKING GAME

Take a shot if

• A character says the title.
• You can tell exactly where something was stolen from.
• One of the bad guys acts like a James Bond villain.
• There’s a monster which is meant to be scary but actually looks ridiculous.
• Something should have a name but doesn’t.
• Something has a totally generic name.
• An original but extremely silly name.
• The author completely contradicts something he’s previously said.
• There’s a blatant plot device.
• Something just doesn’t make sense.
• Scythe “growls”, “scowls”, “snarls” or “hisses”.
• Scythe gets a blade-related simile or metaphor.
• Scythe’s voice or manner is described as “wry”, “chill”, “cold”, “bleak”, “harsh”, “grim” or “dark”. (Oh, wait, that’s all the time. Better make it a sip.)
• Alternatively, Scythe’s voice or manner is described as “expressionless” or “empty”.
• Anyone’s dialogue is reported with a particularly glaring Tom Swifty (“anguishedly” etc).
• Scythe or Mandra delivers a Badass One-liner™
• Archer states the bleeding obvious.
• Archer is annoyingly cheerful.
• Scythe broods. (Take two if everyone else has a perfectly good reason for brooding too, but he’s the only one who does.)
• Mandra is a little bitch.
• Jarral is inspired by his love for Mandra.
• Some obstacle prevents Jarral using his Talent.

Back to the story.
( More... )

"Because “A Journey in the Dark” was already taken...

Before we head into Book Two, I’d like to make one thing clear: when I say this series has good points, I don’t just mean it’s so-bad-it’s-good (though I mean that too). For instance, despite all its clichés, inconsistancies and plain nonsense, the basic story is still rather better constructed than that of the average third-rate fantasy. There is generally a logical reason for the goals the characters are trying to attain, even if they tend to fall down on the execution side of things. This may not sound like much, but it's something that they’re not just carrying out a list of completely arbitrary tasks decreed by “the Prophecy”, or whatever. *cough* David Eddings *cough*

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"Holy plot contrivances, Batman!"

SOMEHOW!™, despite the fact that a large section of the mountain has just collapsed on them, our heroes are unscathed. (Look, are you even surprised by this kind of thing anymore?) Cousin Nicky, on the other hand, is buried under the rubble. He’s presumed still alive, what with being a giant immortal demon (though if you ask me he had a glass jaw), but will no doubt need time to dig himself out.

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"Mr Jarral is a very rare breed. Soon to be made extinct."

So now they’re all being levitated. Jarral calls a snow-Elemental, but it has no effect. This is because the Force-choking demon is staying well out of reach, up on the glacier. We never meet this chap at close quarters, or indeed find out anything whatever about him (or her). Which seems rather shabby treatment to give the single baddie in Generica who shows signs of having a few brains.

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”Blood... death... dying... whatever can that mean?

So they’re climbing into the mountains. The mountains are really, really, really high, like the Himalayas. As in, they reach right into the upper atmosphere. Our heroes do not have climbing gear or oxygen masks, but that’s okay, because there’s a pass at a slightly lower altitude, next to a glacier.

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Dire Weasels Ripped My Flesh

Our thrilling epic opens in the desolate foothills of the mountain range that surrounds the Evil Overlord’s Evil Realm of Evilness. As you may recall from our previous foray into the wonderful world of Generica, very, very few places in it have names, and the bad guy’s patch is no exception.

However, for reasons of clarity, I’m going to refer to it throughout as “Totally-Not-Mordor”. Because I wouldn’t want you getting confused, now.

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Greetings. I bet you’ve all been wondering what happened to me? No? You couldn’t care less?

I knew it!

*sobs bitterly*

Seriously, I haven’t updated this journal in about a year now, mainly because I’ve just had too much on my plate to write anything funny, and I don’t care to put anything about my personal life or problems, such as they are, on the internet. (Not judging anyone who does, here– I’m just saying, I’m kind of private. And no, nothing tragic has happened to me– I’ve just had a lot to do.)

Now that I have a spare moment or two, I thought I would continue recapping the thrilling saga of Jarral and friends.

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"No, Mr Jarral, I expect you to die!"

We discover the Great Rebellion– still minus the Riddling Wizard– sitting on a hill just outside the city, watching the Stronghold burn in the distance. It is now night and the stars are out– but, oddly enough, not the moon, even though it’s a full moon and should have risen at sunset or soon afterwards. In fact, it was already sunset when the Rebellion of Three arrived at the Tower, and several hours must have passed since then, what with the events of the last chapter and our heroes needing time to flee the city. It looks like Jarral should be dead already.

( More... )

My bedroom has a door to the verandah. Last night it blew open by itself. I closed it, only to find that a brushtail possum had got in and was busy exploring the house. (They've been trying to get inside for years..) The cats just sat there and looked at it. I finally got it to leave via the front door, but only after nearly an hour.



They're cute, brushtails, but if you let them into your house regularly they'll take it over and trash the place.

I go back to uni in a week and a half. Which is kind of annoying, since I had a pretty boring holiday. I had all kind of things planned– then I had to go and get sick (fairly severe anaemia). I'm rather prone to this, and I should have recognised the symptoms... but I kept telling myself it was all in my head, that I was just tired and stressed. (They work you to death in this course. In fact, I think they're trying to weed out the unfit. I'm serious– it even makes a brutal kind of sense.) It's really my fault, anyway, because I'm supposed to eat healthily, have lots of red meat and green leafy vegetables, blah, blah, blah... and I just can't be bothered. Food bores me.

One thing about all this, though: I must have been anaemic while I was doing my exams and final projects, and I still got such good marks that there's literally no point in my applying for special consideration. Go me!

The exams were horrible, too. We were told what to study, and not to bother about any of the extra material. It's lucky I decided to skim through it at the last minute... and even luckier that I have a freakish memory (my brother calls me "Rain Man")... because a lot of it was on the exams after all. (Yeah, they're mean.)

Rocks fall. Not everybody dies.

Sorry for yet another hiatus, but you see I lost my right hand in a tragic accident with a cheese grater, and since then I’ve been busy perfecting my one-handed skills in four separate martial arts as well getting a Master’s degree in, oh, let’s just say Advanced Awesomeness.... *blinks* Sorry, what just happened? ...Er, I think I was channelling Soulforger for a moment there...

When I left you at the end of last episode, Uruald the blue bird-spirit had just died a noble and tragic death and Flameroc had just teleported in, roaring.

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This must be the definition of “cruel and unusual punishment”

Once more unto the breach, my friends. Now that I’ve managed to get my major assignments in, I’ve got more opportunity to waste my time and yours recapping an obscure and not terribly good fantasy novel that about five people have read.

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Sorry for the even longer hiatus– RL got in the way even more. Stupid RL!

“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue...”

Mandra the Psychic Wonder is smuggling herself, Scythe and Archer into the Stronghold (hence the title), disguised as officers in the Evil Legion of Doom.

Hmmn... I think someone has flipped a switch on the Theft-o-Matic Plot Duplicator™. We’re not in Middle-earth any more... looks like everyone’s gone back to playing “Star Wars”.

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If you're one of my online friends and don't know what this is all about, don't worry.

If you followed this link from the Downs– hi there.

May the Force be with you.

Sorry for the hiatus– RL got in the way. On with the show:

“Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

We rejoin Mandra, Scythe and Archer. The latter two are hiding in a stolen cart driven by Mandra. Archer has one of her attacks of second sight.

“Jarral... soldiers and shadows... the stones that shine...”

“What is it?” Mandra asked fearfully.

No wonder. The Evil Sword McGuffin was bad enough– is the Author going to inflict Magic Sparkly Rocks on them too?

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“No! A demon! With eyes!”

Note: I forgot to mention this before, but as of last chapter, we are now into Book Three of this epic tale. It’s called “Glistening Tower”. Truly.

So Jarral’s wandering around the slums of Xicanti, being miserable. He sleeps under some broken steps with only rats for company. He spends next day also wandering around, only now it’s raining and he’s starving and looking more like Oliver Twist every minute.

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In which Jarral is Extremely Noble

When we last saw our heroes they were pondering how to get through the wall around Xicanti. The great big wall. The “menacing, impenetrable” wall that “seemed to loom into the sky”.

That wall.

It hasn’t got any smaller since the last chapter:

The massive wall loomed even more awesomely when they were standing beneath it. Jarral could not imagine how such mighty blocks of stone could have been lifted upon one another.

Obviously, a large part of the next chapter will be devoted to our heroes’ attempts to pass this near-insurmountable obstacle, right?

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“Scythe, the Slayer-O-Matic! He slices! He dices!”

Okay, back to work.

We left our heroes in the Garden of Torment, under attack by a giant scorpion. We find them under attack by two giant scorpions:

Then Jarral found the breath to cry out. A second many-legged horror plunged out from the thicket, tail raised high, and skittered around behind Scythe.

They both attack him at once, but Scythe is the man!

Their stings stabbed down, again and again, twin blurs of deadliness, in the same pattern of attack as before. And for nearly the first time Jarral saw, fully, the towering skill and inhuman vision of Scythe the Slayer.

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Greetings, all.

I haven't been able to post much over Christmas, due to usual end-of-year insanity. And now I'm going on holidays for three weeks– somewhere without an internet connection (yes, there REALLY ARE places like that!)

Normal service will resume when I get back.

Happy new year!

–Topaz.

“Snakes, Spiders and Scorpions, Oh my!”

What was Mandra yelling about? (See last episode). Oh, nothing much– just a scorpion. It happened to be the size of a horse, but that’s okay, because it was miles away on the other side of the Garden. As Scythe says,

“Looked like one of those poisonous little dagger-tails you see in the western deserts. But a bit oversized.”

So nothing to worry about, really. I’m sure it won’t attack them just when they think they’re safe, or anything.

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“The Blue Birds Are Coming– Again!”


So, Archer the archer has just been attacked by a giant vulture. What does she say?

Well, what would Legolas say?

“The vulture!” Archer yelled, snatching an arrow even as she and Scythe sprang to their feet.

Keep on going, Archer: “Orcs! Goblins! The Horn of Gondor! The horses are restless! A red sun rises! A diversion!”

You know you want to.

( More... )

Anyone else starting to think the author first made up the chapter titles, then wrote the story?

“When Vultures Attack”


Mandra asks Tweety if Cryl the Riddling Wizard is going to help them.

“He and I will seek to do so,” Urauld said, “whenever we can elude the Enemy’s search. But that grows ever more difficult and dangerous. For that reason I dare not linger here. Farewell– and good fortune.”

Like the Wiz himself, Urauld has got saying “No” in a not saying it kind of way down to a fine art.

He flies off.

( More... )

“The Blue Birds Are Coming! The Blue Birds Are Coming!”


We left Jarral in the No-name Inn, being attacked by a cobra. Just as it goes to bites him Scythe slices its head off.

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And we’re into Part Two of this epic tale, people: Garden of Torment.

“These aren’t the Talents you’re looking for...”

Some days later, we find our intrepid quartet in the Blackgrass Moors, so-called because the grass there is dark in colour. They’re hiding from a band of green-uniformed Evil Soldiers of Evil.

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”You shall be the... uh... I know, how about the Fellowship of the Blade?”

Somewhere in the forest, they hear the pattering sound of the giant spider-monster.

Scythe says it’s one of the Seven Widows. He adds that they can sense arrows aimed at them, which is why Archer missed it earlier, in spite of her telekinetic powers. Mandra is afraid that Mephtik is returning.

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Oh noes!!111!! There’s someone scarier than Mephtik!!!! –Er, come to think of it, just about EVERYONE is scarier than Mephtik...

Scene: the Wellwood. Night. Jarral and Archer the archer are chained up. The soldiers are getting drunk. Mephtik has gone off to hunt down other survivors from the village. You know, the one that was totally destroyed with no survivors.

( More... )

Oh hi, Mary! What took you so long?

Scythe, disguised as a blind beggar, with his eyes covered, rides his horse through the Far Barrens (and past the Bloodvein River, just so you know):

There were many such folk in Prince Mephtik’s realm, homeless and hopeless drifters, staying alive through odd jobs or petty crime or begging. They were sometimes sneered at and abused, sometimes pitied and given a coin or two, most often ignored. Scythe wanted very much to be ignored.

What’s that you say? He should think about getting off the horse, in that case?

Look, it’s... uh... it’s a Seeing Eye horse, okay?

( More... )

It’s Scythe the Slayer! Putting the “sword” back in “sword-and-sorcery”!

The four Evil Soldiers of Evil burst into Carver’s dressing room to kill him for having made fools of them. He beats them up with his 733t martial arts skillz and manages to get one of them to stab another by accident. Dorinna runs in and starts screaming.

( More... )

Don’t do this at home, kids!

Ooo! Now the author’s playing around with time. Groundbreaking stuff here, as we go back to a period several days earlier!

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It's the extra-scary spider-enriched Halloween Special!

Enter the villain

Jarral and Archer the archer are still being pursued by a soldier and a Big Nasty. Archer shoots the soldier dead but misses the Nasty. This shocks Jarral, because Archer never misses. They run straight into a giant spiderweb and get captured by soldiers in weird green uniforms with helmets resembling cobra hoods. The Big Nasty appears. It’s a socking great enormous spider– well, duh!

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Oh no! Not my beloved peasant village!

In honour of kippurbird’s Eragon and Eldest sporkings, and for the benefit of anyone who may chance to read this, I have decided to write-up my favourite GOOD third-rate fantasy novel, Blade of the Poisoner, by Douglas Hill. I’ve done a piece on one of the characters at canon_sues, but I’ve decided the whole book deserves its own treatment. There will, of course, be spoilers, but I hardly think that matters. The story has been out of print for years and it’s very hard to get hold of a copy. That’s a pity, because this is one hell of a fun book.

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I've had two fire incidents in my house this month. The first happened when my father threw a lighted cigarette into a wastepaper basket. I suppose he wanted to see what would happen. What happened was that the paper caught fire. Then the carpet caught fire. Then the floor caught fire. Now we have a charred, blackened floor in the main room.

The second was last night. I put some clothes through the dryer just before I went to bed (after midnight- I'm a night owl). All of a sudden there was this awful grinding noise and a bang and smoke everywhere. I ran into the laundry. The dryer was burning. The door had already melted off and the clothes inside were crackling away merrily. I pulled out the plug; the electrical fire went down but I was still faced with a dryer-full of burning clothes. I didn't dare leave them for a moment, because the laundry is all dry, bare boards that would only need a spark to catch fire (my house is perhaps better described as a "shack"). So I hauled out the clothes and threw them in the laundry trough. All the time I was nearly choking on the smoke, and, just to make things even more fun, my cat, Tiger, kept pestering me for a cuddle.

Nothing worries that cat. He seemed to think it was all a game.

RESTORED!

Part One
Story Or Series Title: Blood And Milk
Fandom: The Boy Who Got Turned Into A Pod Person By Meyshi.
Culprit Author's Name: Meyshi Let’s hear it for our FAVOURITE Suethor!
Full Name (plus titles if any): Head Detective Teegan Gylden.
Full Species(es): Stuus Ubiquitus (he’s in ALL Meyshi’s stories).
Hair Color (include adjectives): “Hip-length dreads”.
Eye Color (include adjectives): ”shimmering golden”; “auriferous” (which does not mean what the Suethor thinks it does).
Unusual Markings/Colorations: From profile: “cinnamon” skin.
Special Possessions (if any): Harry.
Annoying Origin: America, AKA “the good ol’ US of motherf**king A”.
Annoying Connections To Canon Characters: Harry’s partner. Godfather to Hermione’s kids.
Annoying Special Abilities: Is the best detective in America.
Other Annoying Traits: Beats up characters Meyshi doesn’t like.
Please include a small sample of the worst of this story:
( Meyshi goes sci-fi! )

RESTORED!

Story Or Series Title: Blood And Milk
Fandom: The Boy Who Got Turned Into A Pod Person By Meyshi.
Culprit Author's Name: Meyshi Let’s hear it for our FAVOURITE Suethor!
Full Name (plus titles if any): Head Detective Teegan Gylden.
Full Species(es): Stuus Ubiquitus (he’s in ALL Meyshi’s stories).
Hair Color (include adjectives): N/a in this story; author’s profile includes an incredibly detailed description of Teegan, wherein we learn that he has “Skinny dreads to my tail bone”. And an evil twin named Kaagen. And... well, you’ll have to read it.
Eye Color (include adjectives): ”shimmering golden”; “auriferous” (which does not mean what the Suethor thinks it does).
Unusual Markings/Colorations: From profile: “cinnamon” skin.
Special Possessions (if any): Harry.
Annoying Origin: America, AKA “the good ol’ US of motherf**king A”.
Annoying Connections To Canon Characters: Harry’s partner. Godfather to Hermione’s kids.
Annoying Special Abilities: Is the best detective in America.
Other Annoying Traits: Beats up characters Meyshi doesn’t like.
Please include a small sample of the worst of this story:
(  Say hello to Teegan– and a bunch of random OCs with familiar names tacked on. )

Proposals:

The contest will consist of three parts.

1. The Beauty Contest.

The Sues will parade in front of the judges in both their human and shapeshifted forms. Clothing and jewellery optional. Judges to award points out of 10.


2. The Race.

The Sues will fly from Orthanc to Mount Doom.

All non-lethal forms of interference are permitted.

If both Sues fail to complete the course, the winner is the one who gets closest.


3. The Fight.

A total free-for-all. The prize– Legolas Thranduilion (obviously).
If there is no clear winner (e.g. neither Sue survives), the judges will vote for the most stylish fighter.

You may ask, what use is Legolas to a dead Sue?

None at all, but he can mount the Sue's head and/or wings as a trophy.

The Sues' details must be listed (sort of like a character sheet). These are to be based on the sporkings rather than the actual stories (just in case "Lady of the Willows" changes something while I'm not looking).

Weapons must be agreed upon prior to the commencement of hostilities.

Disputes are to be referred to the judges.

Questions? Comments?

Hello, I'm Topaz. I don't expect to post here very often. I mean, what do I have to write about? Do I think I should be running the world? No. Do I have any mental disorders or horrible diseases? No. Am I on a diet? Hell no. I'm a walking skeleton! People think I'm anorexic.

Hmmn. Perhaps I could write 'The Diary Of A Perfectly Healthy Thin Person Who Is Constantly Mistaken For An Anorexic And Is Getting Really Annoyed About It.'

Then again, perhaps not.

Wait! I know what I have to angst about! I'm a harmonica player. We never survive war movies! I may as well be wearing a red shirt!

I'm DOOMED! NOOOOOO!