" And lo it came to pass that the mighty hero, Hedgetrimmer strode out among them to face his destiny. Bravely, with dignity, with poise.  Alone.

'Scrabbalaggaflange!' screamed the hobbe leader, bellowing the hobbe warcry throughout the greatwood gorge.  The insiduous sound rattled the very stones of the cliff face.  Some smaller rocks were dislodged from the gorge sides, to form a perfect likeness of Liam Neeson, creating the landmark headland of Neesonness.

As the stones fell to the ground, the earth shook again as the mighty hero roared his battle cry expression at the nearest hobbe, which glowed with an ominous red mist.....

'Heeyaaah!' He shouted with the veracity of a fallow deer in rutting season. 'Heeeyaah!' He shouted again! 'Heeeyyyy' He sighed when he accidentally used the wrong expression.  A move that shook the ranks of the hobbe horde that stood before him.  They pushed back towards their lair in the Greatwood caves...

Stood before the hobbe cave entrance, the hobbes parted.  Between them strode a sight so fearsome that it could shake a mans bones to dust.  Particularly if he was trying to build up a decent combat multiplier.  This hobbe held in its hands one of the mighty hobbe staffs.  That glowed with the brightness of a thousand B&Q outdoor barbecue heaters.

'SCLAGBAGCALAGAKAWASAKI!!!!!!'  The mage mutterd almost inaudibly.  A blast from the staff.  The hero dodged.  A shimmer of steel, a spurt of blood.  One dead hobbe.  Shocked by the death of their mage with the hero's singular blow the other hobbes fled the gorge.

'Go on! run you fat little gimps!' shouted the mighty Hedgetrimmer, as he loomed over the dying corpse of the hobbe mage.  He raised his sword into the air and plunged it into the mage's chest.  With a very anticlimactic 'bleh...'  The hobbe died.

The hero gave chase into the hobbe cave and slaughtered the inhabbitants.  He ventured deep into the catacombs... even into that odd little room with the cages in that contains no bloody treasure what so ever apart from a bandit who apparently dies after one hit anyway...

After amassing a combat multiplier high enough for even the guildmaster himself to call him adept... The hero strode back outside, dispensing any stragglers on the way.  Stunned and awed at having forgotten it was there before,the hero saw looming before him the grim visage of the Greatwood Caves Demon door.

He strode up to the demon door and commanded it to speak.  With a voice so booming, so deep, so resonant, so excessively manipulated by some nutter of a sound engineer the door spaked 'I need to see your combat multiplier get higher before I swing ajar...'

The hero, having forgotten that changing from one area to another halved his combat multiplier simply walked away and pushed onwood into the eerie darkwood..."

The story coninues in the reply to this post... (Go on, it'll be fun!)

Sorry buddy
This goes in the 'Fan Fiction' Forum.
It was set up a little while ago and serves as its name insists.
I suggest copy and pasting this there, it doesn't belong here. If you're lucky you can ask Mortalitis to move it for you. I don't know if he will but it's worth a try.

BTW it's pretty .

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Gradius1:

You'll have to take your Gnoll fetish elsewhere.

Moved the thread for you. 

"Welcome to your temporary home, the torture chamber. We're going to have a bit of fun with you..."  "You have earned yourself a singular reward. One of my world-famous  Poetry Readings!"  .  I am, of course, joking. Enjoy your stay in Fanfic.

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Has the world ended already? Oh dear, I must have missed it. . .

 That... was... genius! Very few things make me actually, literally laugh out loud, but that was definitely one. I love how it';s not so uch in the real Albion, but in the actul game- combat multipliers, expressions etc. Absolutely fantastic, I implore you- please write more!

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Usally fics with so much relaytion to the game take themselves seriously which is pathetic, but I'm glad this takes it as a joke, it makes the idea funny and worth reading, of course if it was un-intential then forgive me

Keep going...

Hermit

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Episode two!

The hero strode on, with a stride that would make any trouser wearing man shudder.

His keen eyesight, and his nack for following linear paths through environments lead him to a secret trove of hidden treasure, cunningly hidden beneath a burning torch by some bandit horder long ago.

He rumaged through the hidden trove, wading through piles of gemstones and literary works until he found the two things he needed the most.  The solitary items that could alone aid him in his quest to defeat the fearsome Jack of Blades.  The things he needed most at this early stage of his adventures. A pair of boots and an apple. (Well if its enough for Ray Mears than what the heck, eh?..).

He bellowed his fearsome cry into the wilderness, a fearsome wail to call Jack of Blades to battle.

"I will find you Blades! I'll lay you out on the deck, Jack... of CLUBS!"

Alas the hero was of low renown.  Respect wasn't commonplace in these harsh times, but nor was it without brutality.  Had it not been for his mocking remark of "Ooh...Scary.." a passing trader would still have his head on his shoulders.

The hero booted it into the bushes before striding on...

Before entering the marshes the hero stopped in his tracks.  He wondered of his new boots, and how well they would go with his chainmail leggings...which he had found mysteriously stashed in the cellar of the Bowerstone Tavern that very morning...

He remembered the slogan on the crate: "If you drink our ales... YOU wear the trousers " and the scenario seemed less bizarre...

Having tried on his new boots and finding that from the back they go reasonably well with his leggings, he strode on.  He kept hold of his old boots though... as part of his training he was trained in the art of spotting a bargain and new he could get some money for his old ones.  He wouldn't drop them... He just didn't have the heart.

He found a demon door, cast into the sheer cliff face that loomed over the path he strode.  He muttered some crap about opening to the brave, and the hero foolishly accepted without actually reading the mysterious white text that floated before the visage of the demon door.

All at once he was surrounded by hobbes.  T'was not a battle of flesh and steel, but a battle the hero fought within his mind.  The feeling of deja vu was growing more intense by the second, and the hero grew increasingly miffed at the number of suicidal traders that lept into the thralls of battle, only to be blown to smitherines by a miss timed fireball... as I said, times were hard.

After defeating the waves of Hobbes, the hero stepped through the demon door.  He opened the chest at the far end and found a pile of rags, that had been carelessly tie dyed black and red.  Seeing no use for them and feeling slightly put out by fact that his near death and collection of unwanted points at the behest of the demon door yielded pricelessly naff all, he strode on... again.

Upon reaching the heart of the marsh, and the terrible exploding mushrooms of inconvenience and bother, he found his first practical use of the lightning spell, which until then had been purely decorative and for jazzing up his other expressions if he timed it properly...

The hero turned to look back the path he had just traverse.  His eyes locked on the sight of a treasure chest he had somehow managed to miss at the top of the mysteriously placed stone stairs that didn't line up at all with the surrounding structures... Perhaps the architects of the Age of Archon had more foresight than originally thought...

He walked all the way back to check this chest. He had struck lucky before with the apple and thought perhaps lady luck was on his side.  After all he had spent a considerable sum of money on the four spades tattoo.  Alas inside he found a lump of black rock with a value less than that of a ressurection phial.  "WHY THE HELL DO I NEED A LUMP OF ROCK???!!!111!" He quietly considered to himself...

Again finding it impossible to drop a useless item, the hero retraced his steps to the gate to the next area...

What horrors, treasures and potentially lucrative new areas would our intrepid hero find in Darkwood lake? 

Tune in next time, to find out!

 

Hilariously breaking the forth wall Keep going this is a classic, a five star!

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Now I am Death, the destroyer of worlds.

Episode Trois!

 

Lo the Mighty Hedgretrimmer pressed on into the region known as Darkwood Lake.

He suffered no indignity at going back to check the chest and only finding a rock.  He walked proud and tall and slightly effeminately since his boots hadn't broken in yet.

He was however slightly perplexed by the fact that a region called a "lake" contained no...lake.

He contemplated for some time and chuckled to himself when he thought of the name "Darkwood Sludge" and gave a little two finger salute to his creator.  I mean seriously Lionhead... region names...

Hedgetrimmer however did know that this part of the woods was infested by balverines, but did he care?

Did he 'eck!

He relished the thought of doing battle with a great furry fiend, just as his father had on the night of his conception...

It was his birthright!

His pledge!

His duty!

But he saw a sign by the side of the road that warned of these terrible beasts roaming the forest and thought he'd read it just in case and was immediately stunned by the brightly painted lettering...

 

"Traders bewaaaare!"

 

Hedgetrimmer the Mighty just sniggered and looked at his arms.  He feared no balverines.  This sign was not intended for a man of his stature.

"Traders? Hah! Would a trader have biceps like these?" ...He said kissing his muscles.

He was very confident.

Anyway he read the sign because lets face it theres naff all to do in Darkwood Lake but end up having to go back to a town when you realise you haven't got a ranged weapon to get the silver key out the hole in the rock and when you get back theres a trader that sells weapons in the area anyway but he gets mobbed by hobbes and gets killed before you can speak to him so you walk out the area and come back in again to respawn traders but there is NEVER another one that sells the item you need so you walk off in a huff and then find out that the darkwood camp is only one screen away which you had forgotten and then end up killing them all because you got annoyed BEFORE buying the items you need and blah blah blah... ugh.

Anyway, the great sign of mystery and intrigue forewarned of the danger of Balverines.

 

"...Always carry about your person something metallic as a high pitched, jingling noise is deafening to their sensitive ears. Also carrying a pouch of ground spices to throw in their faces is often an effective deterent should one get too close..

...You can always ascertain that there are balverines in the area if you stumble across their droppings on your path..."

 

Pretty sound advice...

"WHAT THE FLIP DOES BALVERINE TURD LOOK LIKE??!!!?!!" Contemplated the mighty Hedgetrimmer in a moment of quiet consideration.

 

"...To differentiate Balverine fecal matter from that of other animals is quite simple. The droppings of animals such as deer, wolves, hobbes etc. often contains berries and vegetation that is indiginous the the Darkwood region...

Balverine turd however is often strewn with little bells and smells faintly peppery..."

...

The mighty Hedgetrimmer was not detered! He had the resolve of a hundred men! A will that was unwavering in the face of fear, a mind so steadfast it stood as strong as a great (english) Oak and so he strode on into the mirky puddles that bore the inapropriately appointed title of Darkwood Lake.

His mind chanting his family's motto, a motto that had held them in stead for generations.

"Will of iron! Mind of steel! Knob of butter!"

...

He pressed on...

*****

 

Tune in next time for more in the exciting tale of Hedgetrimmer the Mighty!

Really fun, my favourite part is the balverine turd part.

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I knew my little crime would be cold, thats why i got heater for your thighs. I know its, i know it not your time, but bye bye.

Episode Quatro:

Hedgetrimmer had grown weary of the wood.  His boots were only now starting to break in and when he had packed for his adventure he had completely forgotten to pack the matching socks for his Rule Britania underwear...  The rubbing on the heel was more than even this great hero could contend with.

He began to doubt his ability, to question his will, his very desire to go on with his journey. 

He began to question whether he was truly a hero...

He also questioned whether the one-size-fits-all tag on his scavenged chainmail leggings was entirely truthful as the chafing on his inner thighs grew ever more veracious...

The hero focussed his knowledge, his training, and knew there and then that there was but one thing he needed. The one thing that a hero of his calibre could possibly require to give such a great man restbite from a quest as epic as Hedgetrimmer's...   Something to rest his mighty pert buttocks from their endless trudging through this murky swamp...

The mighty Hedgetrimmer, needed a bench.

"WHERE AM I GONNA FIND A BENCH IN THESE BLOODY WOODS???!!??!!!??!"  Hedgetrimmer silently mused as he surveyed the surrounding marshland...

During his surveying the drawbacks of heroism became ever more apparent and the mighty Hedgetrimmer again doubted his motives.  The armour he wore was so great, so tough, so unfathomably mighty that it had robbed him of his ability to look up or down, and as he looked around the marshland he grew ever more aware that this limitation caused him great annoyance...

But he was trained in stoicism.  He was a strong hero, a silent light in the howling darkness and rather than blame his inconvenience on his creator (Lionhead...) he decided to clamber back up the little hill he had just walked down to get a better view.

He saw a sight that caused him great curiosity... A large grey stone with a glowing opening at its peak.  He closed his eyes.  He pictured his route and trusted his mastery of effeminately swinging his hips to counter the intense chafing on his inner thighs to carry him towards this strange stone...

With his eyes closed, and his head held high the mighty Hedgetrimmer strode forward...

"Oopsie..."  The mighy Hedgetrimmer roared with such veracity, such ferociousness, such bloodlust to put even the prestigious bloodlust roar expression to shame as he fell ***-over-tit over an unforseen obstacle...

"I wonder who put that there..." The horrified Hedgetrimmer bellowed into the darkness like he had the heart and soul of the vicious Balvorn itself, with such volume as to make anyone wearing headphones lose all orientation, and ability hear any sounds above the pitch of Middle C...

He saw to his surprise a sign post he had not seen before...

He had traversed these woods countless times but had never seen this particular sign, nor indeed the sodding enormous door it pointed at and he wondered to himself where it could possibly lead...

He rose to his feet and aproached the sign, swaying his hips as though he and the leggings were now one.  And judging by how sweaty he must be in the armour, they probably were by now.

He stood close to the sign and the words appeared before him, but the text wasso worn, so tiny in its lettering he had to almost press his nose to the sign to read what it said.

As he stared, and concentrated, the words appeared to him slowly...

"Press A to read this sign."

Hedgetrimmer stood upright and took a deep swallow.  He was no man to follow orders, he was an adventurer and having no idea what the mysterious "A button" was, he elected to follow his instinct and traverse the path he had never seen before...

Where will this mysterious path lead?

Will Hedgetrimer's effeminate walk actually prove to be of aid to him sometime very soon?

And will Hedgetrimmer ever find a bench?

Find out next time in the next thrilling installment of...

 

The Adventures of Hedgetrimmer the Mighty!

Really funny story, thanks for writing.

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Zhivago:

He stood close to the sign and the words appeared before him, but the text wasso worn, so tiny in its lettering he had to almost press his nose to the sign to read what it said.

As he stared, and concentrated, the words appeared to him slowly...

"Press A to read this sign."

Very well said man

love the rest of your work keep it up

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Just in case you don't know you need air to breath.

I loved it, feel like it outshines my fable parody update though.

I want more from the mighty Hedgetrimmer!

Hermit

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Episode Cinque.


And so the mighty Hedgetrimmer stood in awe at the foot of the door that had seemingly appeared over night. The door was so mighty, so huge, so unfathomably unopenable that just the though of pushing it open caused Hedgetrimmer's vision to fade to black.

When he regained his sight he found he was mysteriously transported to an area that didnt even remotely match the rest of darkwood, yet was seemingly right in the middle...

"WHAT THE FUDGE???!!" Hedgetrimmer mused stoically as he considered why the creator of the world (Lionhead...) should chose to make this particular region so completely different to the surrounding area, but his musing was halted by a sight that stayed his feet to the ground as he stared in awe of a presence he had not seen for many a long year.

Another hero strode towards him...

He stood as tall as a six-foot-five-inch tree, as wide as a particularly wide door, his head so oval, so perfectly proportioned it was as though the goddess of beauty herself had created a perfect circle and squeezed it between her thighs and balanced it on his shoulders.

He was the fabled Will-User...

The wizard of lore and legend...

Hedgetrimmer's old ally...

Ringbinder.


He had travelled to Albion from lands far to the East. From a kingdom so distant, so far away, so unfathomably far to the East that it would be quicker to get there if you headed West.

And all before he had even left the womb...

He was endeavourous in his youth...

But that youth had seemingly left him at a rate that Hedgetrimmer stood agog to see. They were of the same age, trained and raised at The Guild as allies and yet Ringbinder looked as stereotypically like a hoary old wizard as one could hope to see...

Hedgetrimmer considered the other will-users he had encountered in his adventures and noticed this was a common trait among them. That through the chanelling of Will, their life energy, their very soul and rending it as spells and enchantments that raze the souls of living beasts to dust, they sacrifice their youth and age prematurely.

Then again they could just do it to lend themselves credibility...

The reliance on the mystique of looking old and dusty was a bone of contention Hedgetrimmer held for all Will-Users...

Two by-standers had also clocked Ringbinder, recognising him from the illustrated stories their parents read to them as children. The tales of the Old and Ancient heroes.

Thats old and ancient in regard to their looks you understand, which is why Ringbinder was actually there to be seen at all...

The Tales of the Young and Recent heroes wasn't as a seller. A fact that caused Hedgetrimmer to raze a bookshop to the ground not one year hence in a fit of jealous, manly rage...

We digress...

Hedgetrimmer was steadfast and staring at his old ally, who, considering was walking right at him, seemed to take enough time for several paragraphs of prose to be read.

Hedgetrimmer, trained in the art of hearing NPCs speaking at a constant volume regardless of their distance from him acutely tuned his ears to overhear the by-standers's conversation...

"Thats Ringbinder..." Said the First.

"The Will-User..." Said the Second.

"I know..." Said the First.

"Me too..." Said the Second.


...The people round here were of few words, and yet their profundity ringed in Hedgetrimmer's ears.

Why were they not speaking of him..?

And what were Ringbinder's intentions in this region?

And will Hedgetrimmer regret standing still in his leggings for so long?


(Tune in next time to find out!)

Fudge. Brilliantly funny. I give you the mega : Ten thumbs up. Would be more but I slack like that, sorry.

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If I fall will you promise to catch me?
If I cry will you promise to hold me?
If I love you will you promise to never break my heart?

Faerie_child:

Fudge. Brilliantly funny. I give you the mega : Ten thumbs up. Would be more but I slack like that, sorry.

Haha thank you very much! =D very much appreciated!

I'm glad you like it, I'm really enjoying your story. You get better and better every time you post a new chapter, which is just great =)

Keep it up!

I love you're story causes it awesome, It makes me rofl.Thank you. I'm glad your enjoying it. You keep writing too.

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If I fall will you promise to catch me?
If I cry will you promise to hold me?
If I love you will you promise to never break my heart?

Episode Sechs (teehee)


The great and mystical Will-User, Ringbinder, drew ever nearer to our great and mighty hero, who stood short and quivering in his presence like a disadvantaged shrew with a nervous disposition.

And looking up at his old ally with a mixture of nostalgic admiration and quivering optimism he spoke one of the few words a hero of his time could speak.

He raised his hand and said simply "Wait."

Hedgetrimmer was stressed... And in his haste used a not innapropriate expression... just one that made him look like a cretin.

Ringbinder did indeed wait and look at his old ally. A face he hadn't seen for a long time and yet still looked oddly familiar, as though almost all of the heroes of his guild came out with the same face regardless of their specialisation...

Hedgetrimmer, now taking a look at his guildmate saw the premature ravages of age that had been ravagely ravaged upon his age ravaged visage. His hair lank and grey, his skin pale and coursed with veins as blue as the bluest blue you can think of.

Hedgetrimmer thought of blueberries.

Infact Ringbinder looked exactly like a wizard character in a book Hedgetrimmer had read as a child by the fabled author R. J. J Koltien called 'King of The Hoops'; a book about an effeminate hairy midget's journey to the center of a volcano to dispose of a magical hula hoop that invoked the power of the lord Sharon...

"Hello, old friend" Spoke Ringbinder, gazing down at his guildmate who stood agog in his presence, struggling to hold his breath as the pressure of sucking in his gut in chainmail began to weigh heavily on him...

"Follow..." Hedgetrimmer said back as that old familiar expression fell about him.

"I haven't the time old friend..." Ringbinder replied, "I have a quest that must be fulfilled with haste."

"Wait..." Said Hedgetrimmer, reminded of his limited vocabulary.

"I cannot!" Ringbinder bellowed, "Do not take me for some conjurer of cheap tricks!" He yelled with a familiar air.

"Heeeeeyy..." Hedgetrimmer groaned, with an inadvertently seductive swagger of the hips.

Ringbinder simply strode on, but Hedgetrimmer knew that Avo works in mysterious ways and this was no chance meeting, for certain their paths would cross again. And soon.

And so Hedgetrimmer resumed his most important quest, the quest to find a bench.

And he found one in the gardens he found himself stood in.

But no matter how he tried, what angle he approached from, what buttons he mashed or how ever he yelled at the sights before his eyes, he could not sit down!

"WHY THE FLIPPING FISH FLAKES CAN'T I SIT DOWN???!!!!??!111??!one??!" He silenty considered to himself in a moment of stoic abandon...

He looked up towards the building that overlooked the gardens and decided to have a look in there for potential sitting opportunities...

Will he find the seat he seeks?

Will our great and mighty hero have an opportunity to rest his feet from his new boots?

Are his leggings begging to chafe terribly upon his mighty, manly thighs?

Find out in the next exciting episode in The Adventures Of Hedgetrimmer The Mighty.

Nice update brah, I particulary bellowed at the lotr's joke.

Hermit

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brill story m8, love the lord sharon bit

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A problem shared is a friend annoyed