Curse

fujin · Sep 06, 2007, 11:23 AM // 11:23

Can't wait for the Searing!

Gotta rate it 5.

legendary_Ace · Sep 06, 2007, 05:26 PM // 17:26

Wonderful! I love all your stories.

This one could of used more lines, but I still liked it!

Raven Nepharim · Sep 11, 2007, 10:52 PM // 22:52

Oh my, this is excellent. XD Can't wait for the Searing. I love what you did with the necromancers as well. Haha. Pure genius.

Government Flu · Oct 09, 2007, 01:17 AM // 01:17

Guild Wars: Flameseeker Parodies
Chapter 11
The Searing

When the young men and women are ready to leave for war, they have a grand gala celebration within the walls of the closely guarded Ascalon Academy. Here, they engage in non-lethal fights, drink eat and entertain themselves with the finest distractions available. In the midst of all these grand celebrations, Prince Rurik mingles with the crowds, looking for the best of the best to become part of his new vanguard. In the meantime, Warren and Valin get ready to enter their last day as rookies…and to join the proper ranks of Ascalon soldiers. This day is what will separate them from strolling city guards, having failed the Academy training, and frontline troops.

Sir Tydus: So, your secondary profession will be…?

Valin and Warren: Ranger.

Sir Tydus: Isn’t that cute?

Valin: Wait, you’re a ranger too?

Warren: Of course! I needed a weapon, so I thought having a pet would fix that.

Valin: Wait, that pet is dead.

Warren: No it’s not. It’s still breathing.

Valin: No it’s not.

Warren: It smells nice.

Valin: It smells rotted.

Sir Tydus: Alright little boys, stop bickering. Quite honestly, I don’t care what people they send out to the front. However…a monk ranger and a warrior with a dead pet brings me to the conclusion that you are all part of a useless generation of men and women that’ll probably be the downfall of the entire world.

Valin: Wow, that’s pretty…harsh.

Sir Tydus: Now if you were part of the generation that took place in the Guild Wars, that’d be something! Bravest warriors in all the land! If dragons still existed, we’d have slain them all with our bare hands! Although…we were all kind of busy killing each other…while the Charr grew in strength and numbers…and then Orr mysteriously blew up…and my eye is kind of starting to hurt for some reason…but! Greatest generation!

Old Man: You tell ‘em Tydus! If I still had my arms, I’d be able to swing a sword yet!

Sir Tydus: You still have arms.

Old Man: No I don’t.

The old man takes a sip out of his bottle.

Sir Tydus: Greatest generation. There you have it. Now! Are you ready to enter the Academy? You’ll both have to leave for it separately and then meet back up.

Valin: Why separately?

Sir Tydus: Suffice to say, there have been reports of people being taken to the Academy unwillingly…

Warren: Who would do such a thing?

And in the stronghold of King Adelbern…

Squire: Would you like your report now, my liege?

Adelbern: Oh, very well.

Squire: Did I interrupt something?

Adelbern: Look over here, Squire. Ahead at the ridge. What do you think that is?

Squire: A contingent of Charr in full battle gear charging into our most vulnerable point, sire.

Adelbern: Oh? Oh! See, I was looking at that tree…it almost looks alive…

Squire: That’s an Oakheart, sire. There are many of them in our lands.

Adelbern: How odd! And here I thought trees were inanimate objects.

Squire: That’s just silly. Everyone knows trees can hurl boulders at people and use life magic to heal themselves.

Adelbern: Well, what about the trees in my courtyard?

Squire: Perhaps they’re dead?

Adelbern: Hmm…so when trees die they just root themselves to the ground and…oh never mind! My report please.

Squire: Your covert operation, codenamed “Operation Steal People From Ascalon So We Can Send Them Off to War to Defeat The Charr and Then Maybe Declare War on Kyrta so that We Can Become a Dominant Power Within The World of --deep breath--Tyria in the near Future” was a smashing success. Using our stealth agents posing as simple soldiers, we managed to convince many experienced warriors to go to war without them knowing it.

Adelbern: What were their average experiences?

Squire: Many were local Charr slayers…some were just gluttons for punishment. We found them constantly getting killed by moas…great frontline fodder. Anyway, we’ve compiled them into different levels. The most experienced received the level 19 and 20 classifications.

Adelbern: Level 19 warriors charging into battle. Excellent! I’m sure those that survive can return to Ascalon in its perfectly pristine condition when the war is over.

Squire: Absolutely.

Adelbern: Err, now what were you saying about the Charr before?

Squire: Completely slipped my mind Sire. I’m sure it wasn’t very important.

Adelbern: Perhaps we should coax the Grawl into attacking the Charr. That way, we could relieve some of the frontline stress our men are suffering.

Squire: I’m pretty sure Grawl are the natural allies of the Charr. In fact, the last parley you sent to rouse the Grawl into attacking the Charr was eaten. By the Grawl. While the Charr fired up their grill.

Adelbern: Well, send another one. But this time make sure the men are wearing shinier armor. And bigger weapons. Or perhaps bigger horses. And give them a gift. Perhaps the knowledge of our magic.

Squire: Oddly enough, they already know many of the attack and magic skills we’ve learned. So do the Skale. The Charr. The Oakhearts. The dwarves. The undead. The creatures in the Maguuma Jungle. The scarabs of the Crystal Desert. The Ettins in the Southern Shiverpeaks.

Adelbern: Hmm…perhaps we should’ve guarded our secrets more jealously.

Squire: Yes, indee--

Adelbern: Don’t use that word! I’m keeping it for myself now! I shall make a special decree just so no one can use it. It is a time for Jealousy! A new age shall dawn, one where I alone can say the word…what was that word again…? Squire, tell me what word no one but me is allowed to say. I command it.

Squire: Indee--

Adelbern: Up-up-up! No you don’t.

Squire, sighing: Can I go now, sire?

Adelbern: Very well, but tell me…I’m a bit rusty on my geography, where are the Southern Shiverpeaks?

Squire: Right outside of our borders. In the south.

Adelbern: Really, because this map is so small. I can only see the tip of a small mountain here, and a few little hamlets and Fort Ranik. I thought my kingdom was bigger.

Squire: Yes, sire. It would appear this is a tutorial map for small children. Children that would cry and pout if they realized the world was far bigger, with many more things to explore. A greater amount of content.

Adelbern: Good Gods, I’d lose my mind keeping myself in such a tiny little region of the world. Constantly shifting about three different outposts and seeing the same creatures roving the land.

Squire: I’m certain no one’s fanatical enough to just stay in one spot.

Adelbern: Yes, I’m sure you’re right. No one would ever want to just stay in that one area…permanently. So continue to weed out the experienced warriors. We need them for war. And if they’re kicking and screaming, send out the town guards.

Squire: Our town guards are only classified as level 5, sire.

Adelbern: Then send out two guards for every one experienced warrior. 5 x 5 is 25, a level 20 warrior is level 15 against two guards, but because those two guards have apprehended him, his level decreases to 10, which is 5x5-10 equals 15+5 equals 20, minus 10. Write that down. Your small mind might bleed.

And back at Ascalon City…

Sir Tydus: So, are you both ready to move into the field of battle?

Valin: Yes.

Warren: I sure am.

Sir Tydus: Oh, right. You with the dead pet. Listen, I normally don’t do this, but since that guy over there is drunk out of his mind, I’m going to give you his sword. It’s a bit poor in quality…what with a chunk of the hilt missing, but it’ll be better than…swinging a dead pet around.

Warren: I don’t know how to use a sword, Sir Tittus.

Sir Tydus: It’s Tydus.

Warren: Typhoid.

Tydus: Tydus.

Warren: Tinkles.

Tydus: Look! You just hold the sword like this, and you swing!

Sir Tydus elegantly wields the battle worn sword and slices through the air with the utmost percision. He hands the sword over to Warren, who slings his dead Stalker over to one shoulder.

Sir Tydus: Now you try.

Warren takes the sword, uncertainly. However, he builds up his confidence, hefts the blade, turns it over and carefully examines the shape and size of the sword…and then swings. The tip slices through the air and ends its journey…three inches from Sir Tydus’s face.

Warren: Oops, sorry.

Valin: Warren, be careful, you could poke an eye out.

Sir Tydus, angry: Just get out of my sight! Both of you!

And so, Warren and Valin enter a brand new journey. A new life of epic adventure and thrills, as the Academy gates swing open, a whole world of possibili--

Warren: Wait, what about my experience points?

Sir Tydus: What?

Warren: I want my experience points. Put them in my journal.

Sir Tydus: Oh for--here, have 100! Now leave me alone!

Warren: Only 100?! Pff! Thanks for nothing, Sir Tinkles.

Sir Tydus: Enjoy the arena, you smiling bastard.

Warren: What?

Sir Tydus: Nothing, nothing. Err, make sure to take the left path. That’s where the party is!

Warren: Thanks!

And inside a bloodied arena complex, sitting atop the royal stands…

Rurik: You know, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful to our military tradition, but don’t you think we’d be more effective at fighting the Charr if we weren’t killing each other in the arena?

Sergeant Osric: Well sire, only the bravest should be allowed the privilege of defending our lands.

Rurik: Yes, but if we were to combine the weak with the strong, they could learn from their battle experiences…those that survived would be better equipped to deal with another day.

Osric: Or we could just watch them kill each other and toss popcorn at the losers. Or are you going to go into a triad about how we shouldn’t waste popcorn because that would mean the Charr win?

Rurik: Watch your tongue when you talk to your Prince, Sergeant.

Osric: All I’m saying is that you should lighten up. Sure you’ve gone through eight different vanguard companies in the past three months. Sure the Wall is cracking apart. Of course the King is a lousy leader. Yes, Orr blew up. Indeed, Kyrta is overrun by the Undead who are mysteriously under the banner of Orr. Yes, the Charr have already taken at least half of our lands. Yes, the dwarves are in a civil war. But at least the weather’s nice.

Rurik: Yes, I suppose even the Charr can’t take that away. Perhaps you’re right. I should lighten up. Err, tell me Osric. Do you know anything about Fiery Dragon Swords?

Osric: Why no, I don’t.

Rurik: I can’t seem to turn it on.

Osric: Well, that’s because it’s not a Fiery Dragon Sword. It’s just the hilt off of a longsword with ‘FDS’ written on one of the hand guards in crayon.

Rurik: Damn it! I’ve been scammed!

And in the city of Ascalon…

XX Popular Name Everyone Else Has XX: So I try to sell this FDS right?

Lord I have Death In My Name: You found an FDS? Here?! Omigod.

XX Popular Name XX: Well, if by FDS you mean Fractured Dead Sword, yeah.

Lord I Have Death In My Name: Yeah, I hate those. I get one all the time.

XX Popular Name XX: Well, it turns out Prince Rurik wanted one! He thought it was a Fiery Dragon Sword.

Lord I Have Death In My Name: Wow, what a dumbass.

XX Popular Name XX: Yeah, I’ve been scamming people left and right. Sigh, it’s great being here. People are so new and gullible.

Town Guard: Excuse me, sirs but you two are the one millionth person I’ve sighted today, and so you’ve all won a special prize. If you’ll just speak to Sir Tydus over there, he’ll let you shoot the hedgehog to win the prize. Just tell him the secret password, “I’m ready for war.”

XX Popular Name XX: Wow, this is great! I’m so freaking rich it’s not even funny. Bye noobs, I’m off to get more gold!

NecroNecro Necro: What the hell is a noob?

City Guard: A level 0 creature that uses frenzy and Blood is Power, a painful self-inflicted injury spell that usually kills it. Their most dangerous predator are the bees.

NecroNecro Necro: I hate this world.

City Guard: At least it’s free.

NecroNecro Necro: I bet if I ever wanted to go to Cantha, it’d cost me another fifty gold.

City Guard: I really don’t want to talk to you.

And joining Warren and Valin on their way to the party…

Valin: You know, I don’t think this path should be draped in blood. It seems very off-putting.

Warren: Only the brave dare enter a party in Ascalon!

Valin: Your pet is really, really starting to smell.

Warren: Well, when we get back into town I’ll spray it with urine. To give it that old world smell.

Valin: What are you even talking about?

Warren: Say, it looks like we’re entering a cage…

Priest of Balthazar: Hello, hello. You can go over to the right, your allies are waiting for you there. When the horn sounds and the gate drops, do your best! The Prince is watching!

Valin: What’s going on here?

Mesmer: Hello. I’ll be your ally this evening, how do you do?

Warren: Ah, Mesmer! Kill it!

Warren swings at the Mesmer with his mighty pet and knocks him to the ground.

Valin: Stop, stop, stop! Warren, I think we’ve been tricked. We just entered the Ascalon Arena! If this is true, then we’re going to fight to the death against four other warriors! We need this mesmer for a meat shie--for a companion.

Mesmer: You guys just don’t know how powerful mesmers really are, do you? I’ll show you. I’ll show you all!

Necromancer: Hey…are you a monk, man…?

Valin: Yes, I am.

Necromancer: Listen, I’m kinda bleeding over here…could you help me out?

Warren: Hey, that’s the guy I asked to make my hammer all bloody and imposing. Thanks to you my hammer broke!

Warren bashes the Necromancer with Kitty, who seems very fond of not breathing.

Valin: Warren, stop! Calm down, necromancer…though you practice the dark arts I shall mend you of your ailment.

Necromancer: You know, after saying it that way, I’d rather not be healed by you. Ya fruity bastard.

Valin: Oh, shut up! Mend…mending…purging…err, I don’t know any condition removal spells yet.

Necromancer: Well ladeeda.

Warren: Mind bleeding over my pet? It’ll make Kitty look more intimidating.

Necromancer: Grenth must hate me…

Just then, the horn sounds! Time for battle! On the opposing side…four organized members plot.

Aspiring Warrior: Prince Rurik is said to be watching this battle, so we must be concise in our movements. We need to attack quickly and target one man at a time. If we weaken one, we’ll weaken the entire team.

Aspiring Monk: I’ll make sure to stay in the back and stack as many enchantments on you all as possible, unless I see that one of them has some form of mass enchantment removal.

Aspiring Ranger: I’ve put some crude fuses on my arrows that’ll explode on impact, so that the enemy will most likely scatter, allowing us to better target whoever we decide to kill first. A little trick I learned from Aidan.

Aspiring Necromancer: I’ll be sure to drain their life force, ahahahaha!

Aspiring Warrior: We’ll be sure to join the Vanguard now. Prince Rurik won’t be able to refuse us! Charge!

And so the gates drop open and both teams spill out onto the field.

Warren: Can I use Frenzy?

Valin: No, you can’t use Frenzy.

Warren: I’m using Frenzy!

Valin: Damn it, I can’t heal you and a bleeding necromancer, I’m already almost out of energy!

Mesmer: Don’t worry, I’ll shut down their caster with my spells!

Valin: I didn’t know mesmers had any spells.

Mesmer: Smartass.

Necromancer: I’ll summon a deathly swarm! Come carrion minions, flock onto the enemy!

The necromancer floats up into the air and begins casting his devastating spell.

Aspiring Ranger: Get the warrior, he’s…oh my Gods, is that a dead stalker? He’s a beast! Kill him! KILL HIM! We must avenge Melandru’s dead servant!

Aspiring Warrior: You’ve chosen the wrong team to fight against, fool.

Warren: It’s go time buddy!

Warren and the opposing warrior charge at each other, Warren swinging his pet every which way and the other calmly dodging and weaving in-between the hurling claws until he finally finds a vulnerable spot. With one painfully quick slash, he severs an artery, and Warren falls to the ground, bleeding.

Warren: …I didn’t know it would be so cold.

Valin: Damn it! Where’s that deathly swarm of yours?!

Necromancer: I’m still collecting carrion creatures. It’s a little difficult casting this spell at noon.

Mesmer: Conjure phantasm!

Aspiring Monk: Remove hex!

Mesmer: Conjure phantasm!

Aspiring Monk: Remove Hex!

Mesmer: Conjure Phant--not!

Aspiring Monk: Remove He--damn it! He’s draining my energy!

Mesmer: Hey ranger, look over here!

Aspiring Ranger: Huh? What’s going on?

Mesmer: Over here, over here!

Aspiring Ranger: I’ll put an arrow in yo--

Mesmer: No you won’t.

Government Flu · Oct 09, 2007, 01:20 AM // 01:20

Aspiring Ranger: I’ll gut yo--

Mesmer: Nuh-uh.

Aspiring Ranger: You’ll rue the--

Mesmer: Sure I will.

Aspiring Ranger: STOP INTERRUPTING ME!

Necromancer: Deathly Swarm…of…regular bees. (Sorry, it was the best I could do.)

Aspiring Monk: Damn, I’m allergic to bees!

Aspiring Warrior: No! No! We have to win! The vanguard! Glory! I’ve already gotten the warrior, can’t you 3 finish off the rest?!

Aspiring Necromancer: I’m trying to drain that stupid warrior’s life force but…it’s like there’s nothing there. Like he has no blood left.

Aspiring Warrior: Pick another target! Quick, the match is about to end!

And up in the stands…

Sergeant Osric: My, what an exciting match. Rather sad how it’s so unbalanced. I mean, that lefthand team obviously has the more skilled warriors. And the other team has a bloodied warrior trying to swing his dead pet, a bleeding necromancer flinging bees at a heavily enchanted monk, and…oh I just can’t watch.

Prince Rurik: Sergeant, I feel on edge. Like something horrible is going to happen. I’d like to go to the bunker near Fort Ranik. Stop the match. I need some forces immediately.

Sergeant Osric: Sire, why not just enjoy the festivities?

Rurik: I said I bloody feel a bloody preminition and I want to bloody go to the bloody bunker! Let’s go! Now!

Osric: You remembered we had an old store of fuel inside one of the rooms, didn’t you? And you want to set your sword on fire.

Rurik: …Maybe. Come on. Grab that warrior with the Stalker and his companions.

Osric: Don’t you mean the team that’s winning?

Rurik: I like animals. Bring me the team that has the animal in it.

Osric: I’m pretty sure that animal is dead.

Rurik: I like ANIMALS!

Osric, sighing: Fine. STOP THE MATCH! The victory…GOES TO THE RED TEAM!

Aspiring Warrior: What?!

Warren: Help me…

Valin: Don’t worry, it’s over.

Warren: Is Kitty alright?

Valin: No, but you are. Let’s go. Prince Rurik wants to speak to us.

Necromancer: Oh sure, help the warrior, but let me…wait, I’m not bleeding anymore!

Priest of Balthazar: After a battle, healing energies will sweep over the arena, healing the victors and casting the losers into an abyss of shame! Just kidding, the losers can just leave. Here’s a gift certificate for fresh tears! Ha-ha!

Aspiring Monk: This isn’t fair! We’re obviously the better team!

Aspiring Ranger: We were so close to being in the Vanguard!

Aspiring Warrior: “I’m allergic to bees?!” You idiot! This is all your vault. Let’s go. Those dogs will suffer another day. We’ll continue fighting for Ascalon. And eventually, we’ll get the praise we deserve. We are destined to save the world, friends. Let’s go.

Aspiring Necromancer: Even the best laid plans can go awry. We will overcome this little error.
And a few hours later…outside an old bunker…

Prince Rurik: I’m glad you four could tag along. I haven’t watched you fight in the arena, so I’m merely assuming you all have some valid combat experience, because if I’m wrong we’ll all surely perish because I can’t possible take on the entire enemy force inside that bunker with…what the sergeant says is a fractured sword.

Warren: Even I could tell that thing is a piece of crap.

Rurik: Shut up! Now! March. We must corner the Charr in this region.

And so, the small band of Rurik’s impromptu troops sets off to fight the unknown inside the bunker. When they arrive, they realize the enemy is much less experienced than originally feared, the bunker having been captured not by Charr, but by Grawl.

Prince Rurik attempts to make short work of one by punching him in the face and then bashing his brains in with the hilt of his “FDS”. Surprisingly, it works. Warren flails about in a Frenzy with his pet and, oddly enough, that works too. The mesmer continues to use his signature annoying trash talk to confuse the Grawl and the Necromancer actually finds a few willing bats to add into his carrion swarm within the cave.

All seems to be going well, until they reach a small outlet overlooking the city of Ascalon. Doomtooth is waiting there.

Vatlaaw Doomtooth: So, you’ve beaten those pathetic pets of mine, have you? I never bothered to train them. I’m merely here to issue you a warning, young Prince. To you, and your entire kingdom. Your days are numbered.

Prince Rurik: Well…you’ve made one fatal mistake, Vatlaaw.

Doomtooth: And what is that?

Prince Rurik: I don’t like numbers!

Doomtooth: Huh?

Prince Rurik: Kill him!

Doomtooth attempts to escape but the cave is blocked by Ascalon Soldiers. In the end, he knocked Prince Rurik flat on his back and beat the living crap out of his entourage, but was overwhelmed by Sergeant Osric’s personally trained men. When Prince Rurik came to, he found Doomtooth’s corpse, left by a proud and forgiving sergeant.

Prince Rurik: We’ve done it! We’ve beaten back the Charr from our fair land and killed one of their heroes.

With that declaration, Rurik flings his fractured sword, bloodied at the hilt from all the head bashing, into the woods from high atop the cave bunker.

Prince Rurik: I will never have to fight again.

Valin: With all due respect, why the hell did you do that? We’ve still got Charr laying siege to our Wall every day and night, the Charr armies have more than one hero, and…well, there’s still lots to be done.

Prince Rurik: …I hope someone finds my sword and gives it back to me.

Warren: Kitty got a few arrows stuck inside her, but she’ll be okay, right Valin?

Necromancer: I smell rigor mortis.

Valin: My friends, this is the dawn of a brighter era. Let us band together to fight the Charr and break this long siege.

Mesmer: Then I suppose formal introductions are in order. My name is Mezzy. Mezzy the Mesmer.

Warren: Wow, that’s a dumb--

Mezzy: Up-up-up! Ssh!

Necromancer: My name is Mortlan.

Valin: You realize there’s a bat feasting on your flesh?

Mortlan: Yeah. He’s part of my carrion swarm.

Valin: I don’t think you’re supposed to maintain the carrion swarm you know. I’ve seen the spell before. They usually dissipate after the battle is over.

Mortlan: I’m still a beginner, okay?!

Rurik: And my name is Prince Rurik. The crown Prince of Ascalon.

Rurik blows his horn.

Warren: Oh.

Rurik: We have won this battle. Let us go back to Ascalon to tell ever--oh, no.

The sky cracks open and turns a deep purple. The boom of thunder with no lightening resonates across the countryside. The wind dies instantly. Birds stop singing, woodland creatures stop dead in their tracks. The entire world becomes a silent observer to the churning heavens. The first crystal falls. It is followed by two more. The three become several, the several many, and the many, an endless stream, like rain. They pummel the city of Ascalon as buildings crumble and forests burn. Every hamlet and neighboring city suffers a similar fate. Rivers dry out into caked ditches filled with fried aquatic life. In time, they will fill with tar. The sky itself will never recover in the countryside of Ascalon. The soil will never return. The trees will never regrow their foliage. Extinction will be a new reality. Suffering will be the new word on everyone’s lips.

The Searing has begun.

Warren: There go my plans for Friday.

Prince Rurik: You know, it’s funny how the Wall is still standing…

And in a nearby forest, a minion stops dancing. It nods to a bear wielding a fire staff. The minion picks up a sword, left abandoned recently. The bear also nods. They know what must be done.

And in the Northlands…

Solid Strider: Octagon! I’ve found Wooden Gear. It’s already been completed, and the news isn’t good. It’s got dual sword launchers, it’s bipedal, the system running it is online and it even has a flamethrower…which…isn’t really such a great weapon to have on a wooden weapon, but that’s not important. I need to know how to stop it. Aside from the obvious way…which is to just, you know. Set it on fire. I need to figure out a far more elaborate way to destroy it so I can be part of a really bitching cinematic battle.

Bowcelot: It’s too late, Sn--Strider! As soon as I pilot the Gear, your life will cease to matter. Time to di--

Just then, a giant crystal smashes into the ground, crushing Wooden Gear into tiny splinters.

Bowcelot: Damn it! Come on! This isn’t over Snakkaaaa--Strider, Strider!

Strider: We’ll meet again, Recurver. We’ll meet again. Wait, watch out for that crystal!

Bowcelot: Aaah, my arm!

And elsewhere in the Northlands, near Piken Square…

Swordfur Pissesrazors: Finally! Part of my vengeance on the human race has been fulfilled. Now to seek out those responsible for the death of my sons. Thank you, wise Shamans. Thank you for helping in my revenge. I will not let you down. Ascalon will fall.

Charr Shaman 1: Dude, I think we used too much Tabasco.

Charr Shaman 2: The Teflon on this cauldron is ruined. Come on, we gotta go find a new one.

And so, another chapter ends, so the next can begin. Keep your eyes peeled…the story has just begun.

Government Flu · Oct 09, 2007, 01:26 AM // 01:26

Obviously, this parody hasn't been updated for a long time, but I've finally completed chapter 11. I pasted this on one post and it was apparently so long, the post was completely empty. So I split it into 2 and it seems to be showing just fine now.

Sorry for the delay, but perhaps the size of this chapter will make up for the wait. I hope you all enjoy, and as always, thank you for all your replies.