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|Author||Story: Gore, gore and even more gore.|
|This is for players who are thirsty for blood. LOTS OF IT. Long sentences are to be read with one breath. Or else >:O DON'T READ IT IF YOU GET QUEASY FROM READING ABOUT BLOODY STUFF. But you probably will anyway. So meh, go ahead. Oh, and grab a packet of popcorn while you're at it.|
Note: Bloody refers to the red and white blood cells that make up your body. If you don't know what I'm talking about, cut yourself open with a knife. It should smell like carrot. (No, but seriously, i was joking. Please don't.)
Gore: The story.
The ground was saturated with the life-giving essence that was blood. Ferrer moved quickly through the horde of barbarians, cutting through flesh and sinew like a scythe, spreading flecks of blood and intestines and internal organs and other bloody stuff throughout the bloody carnage that littered the battlefield (which was bloody). Countless innocent villagers had suffered the mortal death blow from the Dark Elf's sword, until Ferrer came face to face with his final remaining opponent.
Poised to strike, a young barbarian boy that looked no more 13 stared at Ferrer, the eyes betraying a deep hatred that blossomed within. With an angry cry, the inexperienced young man struck out at the dark elf.
Blood dripped from the mythril blade as Ferrer yanked it out of the boy, creating a gaping red hole where the sword used to be. Quickly following the sword were the boy's intestines, half-in, half out of the stomach, leaving a trailing path of blood as the boy fell forward, clutching the knee of Ferrer's armour. Gasping for breath, for life, the boy was shown no mercy by the dark elf. Lifting up the sword as if it were no lighter than a feather, Ferrer pierced the young barbarian's head from the back of the skull, slamming the sword into the bone, where it continued forward into the bridge of the nose and out into the ground, impaling the boy's head against the blade. Brain splattered blade as Ferrer quickly unsheathed the sword from the head, leaving a gaping red slit from which the sword had exited. Just to make sure the boy was dead, he repeated this process five hundred and forty-eight more times, until the boy’s head was visible only as a bloody pulp connected to a torso and legs.
It was done.
Panting only slightly, the dark elf stood awestruck as he surveyed the total and utter annihilation he had stamped upon the village. A lone monolith standing in the middle of a massacre, dead bodies piled in a circle surrounding him, a pile so high it touched the sky. How the cow did a pile of bodies randomly align themselves to pile themselves one on top of each other, the wise Ferrer thought. Oh well, there was no choice.
He would have to eat his way out.
Moral of the story: Even the wisest Dark elves need to live in an institution.
Question: So why did Ferrer attack the barbarian village in the first place?
Answer: Because the villager’s stole one of his sheep.
|Llamasushi (the author) does not take any responsibility for anybody who has been converted into cannibalism from this story. |
|ha ha. nnice one llamasushi |
|gore , gore and even more gore , os that a catchy title? |
well ofc it is...:P nice work llamasushi..)
Llamasushi (the author) does not take any responsibility for anybody who has been converted into cannibalism from this story.
But really, you say that if I become a cannibal because of you, you wont pay me anything?
|+ 1 great and very bloody story |