The Work Desk

[RaditzSoldier]

Here's where I shall actually write the stuff and labor for long hours making edit after edit after edit...how much am I getting paid for this?!?

[bacon]

Why don't you post a thread for every update?

[RaditzSoldier]

Because then I'd be lost looking for threads in which I remember finding stuff. Now begone! A starving artist does not work in front of the public!

[bacon]

*leaves*

[RaditzSoldier]

Don't trip over the lamp! Ugh! Outsiders.

[RaditzSoldier]

-Fancy GDR title thing in big letters that will be added later.-

Prologue: The Prelude to Hope

Death. It was everywhere. Dead members lay everywhere, injured or killed, spewn across the battlefield. It was in this year that the Spammers led by Spamron had wrought his destruction of the countryside. TFN was falling.

In years past, TFN had been a golden capitol of the Internet, attracting merchants and immigrants from message boards across the world. Trade and commerse was so deeply embeded in TFN any attempt of extracation would indubitably fail. And, as such, a saying arose that, all roads led to TFN. Of course, while such a bold statement was not true, as there was of yet no grand linking chain of roads, it was certainly easy to think such.

TFN itself was split into smaller independant district-states, in which ones such as Prequel Trilogy and Star Wars Community were of the strongest. Strilo, a TFN warlord, was growing so powerful that smaller district-states such as Star Wars 3D were stumbling over themselves to secure all alliances. For otherwise, they would be crushed.

Yet, invasion was the last things on the minds of the citizens. Grand shows, brilliant graphics artists, magestic centers of newbie learning, and magnificent movies were so immense in number that a citizen could not possibly know them all. A great rennaisonce of the Internet. Sadly, it was all taken for granted. Soon, they would yearn for the days to return again.

For in the south, a storm was brewing. Spamron, an evil admin, was looking to surge through the serene and blissful lands and take hold, setting up a cruel dictatorship over the lands he so hated. So he built an army, even recruiting generals of spam and trolling, the most renowned being Sith Lord Eric, a great yet evil spammer and troller of legendary proportions. He had malice and malcontent stored up in him, that even Spamron questioned his loyalty.

The admins far north heard of rumors. Rumors of a growing power in the south. Yet, caught up in the joy of TFN, they did not give it a second thought. How could this great land fall to such an end? Surely it was not possible.

Yet it was. In the summer of 326 Sixth Age, Spamron was ready. His army of flammers, hackers, trollers, spammers, and other such nasties had even exceeded his expectations. He now had the chance to slay millions upon millions...he now had the chance to destroy TFN.

Then, in the winter, when the people were calmer and the guards were even more scarce, he struck. The southern district-states began to fall at alarming speed. At last, they had no way of ignoring Spamron.

Strilo gathered a great army to counter Spamron. Every single member who was old enough and able to fight was drafted. Crudely trained and given poor weapons, their only true power was their determination. They would not let the great age of TFN fall. And so began the Great War.

At the hills of Vaboo, they awaited the approaching Black Army. Sith Lord Eric, the prime general of Spamron, was sent to quall the rebel forces, for at the time Spamron underestimated them.

Sith Lord Eric lined the southern hill. Strilo and the TFN members lined the northern hill. In the middle was a valley, which would soon be named the Valley of Golden Despair.

The Black Army raised their horns and blasted it, a sign meaning they were prepared for victory. Undaunted, the members returned the favor.

"For now we come to a point in time where there is no middle side," said Strilo, turning to his army. "Malicious and violent the Black Army has come, ravaging and burning, killing all. There are people in this world who would love nothing better than see you squirm and beg for mercy before you die. We have only been peaceful. For if we lose now, our children shall only have tales of this great land. My child. Your child. Killed! Enslaved! Abused! Forgotten. There is a point when one must question his soul, his stance in life. For how is it possible to call yourself a member yet do such horrid and dreadful deeds! Arrogant. They give themselves riches whilst you sleep in the cold. They pleasure themselves in large mansions and grand feasts while they believe you are worthy of nothing more than a scrap unfit for a mouse and blanket torn and ravaged. I ask you not to fight today. But to uphold. Uphold what we have so long protected. UPHOLD FREEDOM!"

The army raised their crude swords and bent arrows. They raised their dull shafts and their rough rocks for slingshots. "Uphold freedom!" They shouted. Strilo turned and whispered to his horse. Then spurred it on and charged down the hill. The battle had begun.

The Black Army soon followed suit. The soldiers charged down the hill. And once at a spot, the archers began fire.

Strilo was overtaken by the faster soldiers and horses. An arrow flew passed him and hit the man to the backwards diagonal of him. A headshot, he instantly fell forward on his horse, then, unstable, fell to the side and off the horse. The horse continued charging, unbeknownst that it's rider lay dead and trampled. Another arrow shot the soldier's horse in front of Strilo. The rider yelled as his mare fell dead. Strilo jumped over it, but the riders behind him trampled the man, who screeched so terribly as he died that it was of nightmare. Now closer, a slingshot sprung forward and hit a man in the arm. He withdrawed the arm in pain, but lost balance, and still holding onto the reigns, he fell off. Dragged to death, the soldier led go of the reigns, but it was too late. The equine took it as a direction, so it turned to the left. A rider charging down the left put his hands over his face as the horse tripped and he flew to the ground and died of impact. The other horses rode around the collision.

The charge was done, and Strilo was relieved. However the battle was not nearly won. Pikemen from the Black Army charged forward and brutally destroyed the front line of soldiers. The second was punished hard, and the third line took minor damages. The pikemen slowed the cavalry charge to where the Black Army archers had an easy time just slaughtering the troops who cautiously battled the pikemen. A strategical error of Strilo's, the panicked horsemen began to disperse and become disorganized. As of a result, the cavalry death toll shot to a painful height.

Now that the TFN footsoldiers had arrived, the cavalry carefully turned back to protect their archers. Strilo did not, however, and continued to fight. A pikeman killed his horse, and Strilo expertly jumped from it to on top of the surprised pikeman. The crash softened the fall for Strilo, and proved fatal to the unfortunate Black Army pikeman. Strilo picked up his pike and threw it into the Black Army ranks, and skewered three soldiers running in a line. He picked up his sword and beheaded a pikeman, and then stabbed a charging swordsman. Then, curiously, the Black Hole Army began to move out of the way. Then he saw why. It shining black armor stepped out Sith Lord Eric. He shot spambolts at a group of soldiers and instantly took out twenty-six TFN troops. Then spires rose from the ground and slew many. Flame walls charged threw the TFN ranks. Magic.

Yet, when all hope was lost, Strilo got up and charged, sword over head, into the ranks of the Black Army. He quickly beheaded the surprised Sith Lord Eric. The head floated for a moment, and it's eyes flared red. "He ka no mae fra laeng kah." It chanted this, over and over again, then the head burst in a red flare and was gone. The Black Army retreated.

Though Sith Lord Eric's death was a punishing blow to the Black Army, the TFN soldiers had simply gotten too many casualties. Spamron, in a swift fury, easily began to destroy the scattered and small forces. Strilo, camped in the Star Wars RPG mountains, was cornered and killed. His death destroyed any hope of TFN surviving.

And so, in the spring of 332, the Black Army claimed lordship over any and all peoples. Only a tiny steadfast nation of Proboards remained free of the grasp of Spamron. Yet, amid all this pain and death, a hope was arising. For in 332, Bacon was born. He would be remembered in future times as the owner of the Green Dragon Inn, a place where Spamron's reach was gone and the tiny glints of TFN were shown. A peaceful haven. For this is the story of him. Of the Inn he created.

From the pages of the historian Jentith.

[bacon]

Oh my god, I love it.

[RaditzSoldier]

Thank you, and now I must retire.

[DDL]

Wow...that was awesome!!!!!!!!!

[RaditzSoldier]

Green Dragon: The Novel
by RaditzSoldier

Prologue: The Prelude to Hope

Death. It was everywhere. Dead members lay everywhere, injured or killed, spewn across the battlefield. It was in this year that the Spammers led by Spamron had wrought his destruction of the countryside. TFN was falling.

In years past, TFN had been a golden capitol of the Internet, attracting merchants and immigrants from message boards across the world. Trade and commerse was so deeply embeded in TFN any attempt of extracation would indubitably fail. And, as such, a saying arose that, all roads led to TFN. Of course, while such a bold statement was not true, as there was of yet no grand linking chain of roads, it was certainly easy to think such.

TFN itself was split into smaller independant district-states, in which ones such as Prequel Trilogy and Star Wars Community were of the strongest. Strilo, a TFN warlord, was growing so powerful that smaller district-states such as Star Wars 3D were stumbling over themselves to secure all alliances. For otherwise, they would be crushed.

Yet, invasion was the last things on the minds of the citizens. Grand shows, brilliant graphics artists, magestic centers of newbie learning, and magnificent movies were so immense in number that a citizen could not possibly know them all. A great rennaisonce of the Internet. Sadly, it was all taken for granted. Soon, they would yearn for the days to return again.

For in the south, a storm was brewing. Spamron, an evil admin, was looking to surge through the serene and blissful lands and take hold, setting up a cruel dictatorship over the lands he so hated. So he built an army, even recruiting generals of spam and trolling, the most renowned being Sith Lord Eric, a great yet evil spammer and troller of legendary proportions. He had malice and malcontent stored up in him, that even Spamron questioned his loyalty.

The admins far north heard of rumors. Rumors of a growing power in the south. Yet, caught up in the joy of TFN, they did not give it a second thought. How could this great land fall to such an end? Surely it was not possible.

Yet it was. In the summer of 326 Sixth Age, Spamron was ready. His army of flammers, hackers, trollers, spammers, and other such nasties had even exceeded his expectations. He now had the chance to slay millions upon millions...he now had the chance to destroy TFN.

Then, in the winter, when the people were calmer and the guards were even more scarce, he struck. The southern district-states began to fall at alarming speed. At last, they had no way of ignoring Spamron.

Strilo gathered a great army to counter Spamron. Every single member who was old enough and able to fight was drafted. Crudely trained and given poor weapons, their only true power was their determination. They would not let the great age of TFN fall. And so began the Great War.

At the hills of Vaboo, they awaited the approaching Black Army. Sith Lord Eric, the prime general of Spamron, was sent to quall the rebel forces, for at the time Spamron underestimated them.

Sith Lord Eric lined the southern hill. Strilo and the TFN members lined the northern hill. In the middle was a valley, which would soon be named the Valley of Golden Despair.

The Black Army raised their horns and blasted it, a sign meaning they were prepared for victory. Undaunted, the members returned the favor.

"For now we come to a point in time where there is no middle side," said Strilo, turning to his army. "Malicious and violent the Black Army has come, ravaging and burning, killing all. There are people in this world who would love nothing better than see you squirm and beg for mercy before you die. We have only been peaceful. For if we lose now, our children shall only have tales of this great land. My child. Your child. Killed! Enslaved! Abused! Forgotten. There is a point when one must question his soul, his stance in life. For how is it possible to call yourself a member yet do such horrid and dreadful deeds! Arrogant. They give themselves riches whilst you sleep in the cold. They pleasure themselves in large mansions and grand feasts while they believe you are worthy of nothing more than a scrap unfit for a mouse and blanket torn and ravaged. I ask you not to fight today. But to uphold. Uphold what we have so long protected. UPHOLD FREEDOM!"

The army raised their crude swords and bent arrows. They raised their dull shafts and their rough rocks for slingshots. "Uphold freedom!" They shouted. Strilo turned and whispered to his horse. Then spurred it on and charged down the hill. The battle had begun.

The Black Army soon followed suit. The soldiers charged down the hill. And once at a spot, the archers began fire.

Strilo was overtaken by the faster soldiers and horses. An arrow flew passed him and hit the man to the backwards diagonal of him. A headshot, he instantly fell forward on his horse, then, unstable, fell to the side and off the horse. The horse continued charging, unbeknownst that it's rider lay dead and trampled. Another arrow shot the soldier's horse in front of Strilo. The rider yelled as his mare fell dead. Strilo jumped over it, but the riders behind him trampled the man, who screeched so terribly as he died that it was of nightmare. Now closer, a slingshot sprung forward and hit a man in the arm. He withdrawed the arm in pain, but lost balance, and still holding onto the reigns, he fell off. Dragged to death, the soldier led go of the reigns, but it was too late. The equine took it as a direction, so it turned to the left. A rider charging down the left put his hands over his face as the horse tripped and he flew to the ground and died of impact. The other horses rode around the collision.

The charge was done, and Strilo was relieved. However the battle was not nearly won. Pikemen from the Black Army charged forward and brutally destroyed the front line of soldiers. The second was punished hard, and the third line took minor damages. The pikemen slowed the cavalry charge to where the Black Army archers had an easy time just slaughtering the troops who cautiously battled the pikemen. A strategical error of Strilo's, the panicked horsemen began to disperse and become disorganized. As of a result, the cavalry death toll shot to a painful height.

Now that the TFN footsoldiers had arrived, the cavalry carefully turned back to protect their archers. Strilo did not, however, and continued to fight. A pikeman killed his horse, and Strilo expertly jumped from it to on top of the surprised pikeman. The crash softened the fall for Strilo, and proved fatal to the unfortunate Black Army pikeman. Strilo picked up his pike and threw it into the Black Army ranks, and skewered three soldiers running in a line. He picked up his sword and beheaded a pikeman, and then stabbed a charging swordsman. Then, curiously, the Black Hole Army began to move out of the way. Then he saw why. It shining black armor stepped out Sith Lord Eric. He shot spambolts at a group of soldiers and instantly took out twenty-six TFN troops. Then spires rose from the ground and slew many. Flame walls charged threw the TFN ranks. Magic.

Yet, when all hope was lost, Strilo got up and charged, sword over head, into the ranks of the Black Army. He quickly beheaded the surprised Sith Lord Eric. The head floated for a moment, and it's eyes flared red. "He ka no mae fra laeng kah." It chanted this, over and over again, then the head burst in a red flare and was gone. The Black Army retreated.

Though Sith Lord Eric's death was a punishing blow to the Black Army, the TFN soldiers had simply gotten too many casualties. Spamron, in a swift fury, easily began to destroy the scattered and small forces. Strilo, camped in the Star Wars RPG mountains, was cornered and killed. His death destroyed any hope of TFN surviving.

And so, in the spring of 332, the Black Army claimed lordship over any and all peoples. Only a tiny steadfast nation of Proboards remained free of the grasp of Spamron. Yet, amid all this pain and death, a hope was arising. For in 332, Bacon was born. He would be remembered in future times as the owner of the Green Dragon Inn, a place where Spamron's reach was gone and the tiny glints of TFN were shown. A peaceful haven. For this is the story of him. Of the Inn he created.

From the pages of the diary of the historian Jentith.