Final Fantasy/8-Bit Theatre Fanstories

[Seran]

It did not seem right without this thread. We've all noticed that certain thread so named "8-bit fanfics", right? Well, that is merely a thread created for the purposes of allowing those certain image scripts that drives everyone mad.

:fighter: Dude! Remember that one time --
:bmage: Less talking, more stabbing.

Yes, Clevinger and the others really despise them beyond all loathing. But it seemed improper to me to have a thread allowing those in, when -- it being named 8-Bit Fanfics -- makes it sound as though actual written stories would be allowed as well in the same thread. But clearly, they don't match, despite whom posts them and in what pattern they are posted.

Yes. Fanstories, or fanfictions, based off of Final Fantasy or 8-Bit Theatre can go here!

For what reason you'd type one up?

Well. We all want to occupy our time, aren't I right?

And just to start us off...

+++
The Horrors of Black Mage, Part One
“Come on, you can do better than that! Pull!”
He cursed the day his idiot comrade had fallen to Thief’s trickery, hating how Thief pushed them around so often, hating how stupid Fighter was, and hating how worthless Red Mage had been.
“Puuuu-uuuul!” Thief sang loudly, watching them from a distance as he sat beneath a great oak tree, its green leaves shading him from the bright sun. “Keep going, you’re almost there! Black Mage, put some spine into that why don’tcha!”
“Shut up!” Black Mage hollered back rudely, refraining the urge to add ‘mutha fugga’ to Thief. His hat hid his unseen face from the world as the sun tried to shine some light into his face, his short body struggling to keep up with the other two as they relentlessly tugged and pulled on the ropes. Black Mage would have done something about it, if it were not for the fact he had already wasted his Hadoken, his daggers had gone missing, and Thief had basically tied the ropes quite tightly around their waists. Fighter didn’t have his swords to cut them off, and Red Mage refused to become less versatile to something so ‘minor’. He could hear Fighter groan as he heaved his weight back, gritting his head, his crown and armor shining in the sunlight. Red Mage was not as strong, so he had gone to the point of basically jumping towards the direction they had to pull the massive, flat boulder, to apply more brief force in the pulling and not using a smooth, continuous, and weak motion to try dragging the boulder along as fighter did. Black Mage was barely applying any effort at all, pretending to pull, but Thief had caught him slacking off. That lazy bastard, he thought to himself. I’m going to kill him one day if it’s the last thing I do.
“I – I can’t go on!” Red Mage yelled over their pain and agony of pulling the oversized rock in the burning heat. He collapsed, his knees weak, falling onto his face as he raised a hand with little strength left. “Go on without me!” he cried out through the grass and dirt. “I won’t make it! Move on, my comrades, and let me die, for it shall not be in vain! Do not grieve for – “
Thief leaned over, squinting down at the collapsing mage. “You’re not going insane again, are you!” Thief yelled out down to him, keeping himself away from the sun. “Like that time you were yelling about barracks?”
“The barracks were doomed long ago!” Red Mage mourned, lifting both of his arms. “They have fallen to the legions of hell and despair! God save us all!”
Thief massaged his forehead with his fingers impatiently, but leaned back nonetheless against the tree trunk. “Fighter! Knock some sense into him.”
“How!”
“However you can!”
Fighter stopped pulling and stared down blankly at Red Mage’s pale face, blinking as his red hair fell forward with his motion, without a wind to guide his draggled cape and to brush his hair. Black Mage immediately found him straining to pull the boulder all by his lone self. Soon after, nonetheless, he simply surrendered to fatigue and fell on his stomach. Fighter looked at him too, just staring, while trying to figure out how to get energy back into Red Mage. His lightly tapped on the top of his comrade’s skull with his white boot, scratched his head, and did it again. Thief was scratching his head at this insolence he had to deal with. Black Mage clawed at the ground angrily, his fingers tightening on the dirt, his gloves stained with soil and his yellow eyes narrowed with pouring anger. He started to tremble, wanting the rope off his waist immediately.
“Must…not…go into savage rage,” he growled through gritted teeth. “Must remain calm. Must not use every ounce of strength into bludgeoning Thief to death with the stick sitting very close to me.” Black Mage spared a glance to the stick, which was actually a twig, and shut his eyes imagining what it would be like. He saw a pathetic version of himself trying bring unbearable harm upon an elf with a puny little twig. Black Mage groaned, despising himself for getting such an idiotic idea.
Fighter heard every word and glanced over at the twig. He immediately attempted at reaching it, but as he took a mere four steps towards the stick, the rope pulled him back and he soon found himself leaning forward, arms reaching out desperately to the stick while the rope held him back. Fighter sat down, contemplating, trying to find a way to reach the desired twig while Black Mage mocked him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the mage spat at the warrior.
“I’m trying to figure out how I can reach the stick over there. I think I can use it to wake RM up,” Fighter replied, his hand around his chin in thought.
“I’m going to kill you in your sleep if you keep it up.”
“Pshaw. ‘Twould not work anyway, oh silly mage of the dark arts of destruction!”
“I hate it when you talk like that!”
“Less talky talky, more wakey pully!”
+++

[Edit] Do you honestly think I'm doing another back-to-back story-sections posting session?

[Edit2] Before this, I had created a different fanfiction. If anyone is interested, then just take a look, unless you've already read it. http://www.nuklearforums.com/showthread.php?t=13202

[Skit]

Very cool, dude. I suppose this is Black Mage's nightmare? That Thief takes over everything he ever dreamt of?

Thief sure is a bastard in your stories.

[Saria]

Black Mage's nightmare, indeed if that's what it is. *grins* You are good at writing.

[Seran]

The nightmare starts after Black Mage falls asleep. Just to tell you.

Heh, I could write about a Thief that's not a jerk.

I didn't want to do this, but I don't like waiting to complete storytelling...

+++
Part Two
“Now how can we push it over?”
Thief crossed his arms, staring down at the white river rushing past, carrying along a violent wind that blew Thief’s blue hair into his eyes and mouth. He pushed them away, yet they only blew back again. Turning around, Thief focused his eyes on Fighter, who had not yet run out of stamina; Red Mage, who had finally recovered after thirty minutes of unconsciousness and Fighter trying to get the twig from before; and Black Mage, who was sitting on the grass, his legs contracted, hands in lap, and head bowed. Fighter, sitting on his rump, looked over to the crescent figure on Black Mage’s hat, blinked at it curiously, and reached out to pull it off. He really wanted to pull it off. He truly did, he truly did want to pull it off his friend’s hat and look at it. Black Mage failed to notice when Fighter reached out with his one hand, gripped the figure, and immediately flung himself back, trying to pull Black Mage’s crescent object off. He figured that the hat was literally glued to Black Mage’s head, so he thought he could yank the crescent figure off. His assumption was proven as Black Mage acted promptly, his hands shooting up to grab the edges of his hat as Fighter failed to pull the item off his hat. Indignant, he spun his hat on his head, patted it, and glared at the warrior.
“What the hell was that for!”
Fighter grinned and giggled, falling over onto his back while he tried to control his laughter. Black Mage wanted to crawl over and slap him on the head. Instead, Thief grabbed him by the back of his blue collar, lifted him onto his feet, and knocked on the edge of his hat. This nearly flung Black Mage’s hat off, and he whirled around, glaring.
“Stop whining, would you? I don’t think you guys want to push the boulder into the river so that we can block the flow and at the same time allow us to cross while cutting off precious water supply from that nearby town, which we could trick into paying us to remove a large and hard-to-remove rock that we had pushed into the river’s current in the first place.” Black Mage started, his fingers clutching his hat’s edges hard.
“What!” he exclaimed anxiously. “That was your plan all along? That? Oh, you are such a dead elf when I pull free from these ropes…I can’t believe you made me waste all my magic power and energy…”
Fighter sat up and flung his arms out to Thief. “Hug!”
“No hugs. Go to sleep.”
“Aw, but no one ever hugs me…”
“Then hug BM or RM, just as long as I’m not watching. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to be sleeping in that tent over there.”
The three, other than Thief, cast their gazes toward a tent that never should have been there. Black Mage stared at Thief with a bewildered glow in his yellow eyes.
“But you…but I…but we…and he…”
“Good night,” Thief dismissed casually, flicking his wrist and turning around to retreat to his tent. Red Mage noticed that they were still tied to the boulder, and that there was no additional tent for them.
“What about us?” he asked loudly.
“You’ll be fine!”
The three watched the elf push open the entrance to the tent, walk in, then let the flap fall behind him, and pulled down the zipper to close it, separating him from them. Black Mage raised his arms, ready to protest, but he lowered them, glanced at the ground, and immediately lost the words he had wished to holler out. Red Mage briefly looked towards him, neither curious nor concerned, his hat tilting off his white head. Fighter only offered a wide, careless yawn.
“Well, good night!” he said cheerfully, and flopped over onto his side, his cape wrapping around his body. Red Mage turned his head to and fro for a minute, yet he too decided to simply fall asleep as Fighter did. Black Mage glanced between the two, indignant that they were not at all troubled by Thief’s new level of cruelty, yet relieved they were not going to talk. He got onto his knees and hands, then slowly crawled away from them, and his rope followed his waist with his cloak trailing on the ground behind him. He stared down at the dry, dirty ground, disturbed by the river’s noise, before he finally decided to settle on the spot and withdrew his legs to his stomach.
“Stupid Thief,” he muttered to himself.

“ – and the gil you earn must be – “
The mage awoke with a groan, his eyes slowly pulling themselves open as his body shifted in the pile of green leaves that had fallen onto and around him. He feebly rocked back and forth, thinking he had awoken from a dreamless slumber. Black Mage could hear the voice of Thief spinning through the air and hacking through his hat, his skull, into his brain like an axe thrown by a barbarian. He did not hear the river from before he had fallen asleep. He did not feel the shadow of the boulder falling on him, and nor did he feel the presences of Red Mage or Fighter nearby. Raising his head weakly, he squinted in the burning sunlight, too tired to hiss at its brightness. Black Mage remained still for a long moment, listening only to the voice of Thief, who was nowhere to be seen. The trees around him seemed most unfamiliar, as though someone had moved them into different positions, and had painted green moss onto the bark.
“ – so help us, order of Hell, and we can overthrow the kingdoms of Man!”
“Hell?” Black Mage managed to mumble to himself, and as he suddenly recognized the word, he flung himself onto his rump. “What? What’s Thief blubbering about?” He pushed himself onto his feet, wobbling pathetically on his legs, and tried to wander towards Thief’s voice. A great hill rose over him, which he had not seen before, with the sun floating behind him. A butterfly lazily wandered past, and when Black Mage bothered to look at it, he saw it was plainly in flames. His eye squinted with confusion and wonder at the strange phenomenon, watching the flaming butterfly attempt to reach the horizon, trying to register the fact it was actually on fire.
“Our first target will be the Empire of the Shining Blade…”
“What?” Black Mage repeated, even more stunned at such a ridiculous name. It sounded as though Fighter had named an empire or something.
“Then we, victorious or not, proceed to the +Infinite God’s Cavern…”
That, right there, had Red Mage written all over it.
“…And we slaughter every single dwarf. What do you say, my damned elven brethren of Hell!”
Indistinguishable roars erupted from beyond the hill, and Black Mage was quick to scamper up it. He was flustered and was dreading some sort of horrific truth he dared not to think about. But Black Mage thought it impossible…there was in no way Thief could have possibly –
“The bastard!” he exclaimed quietly to himself as he glared down at legions of monsters from hell. The mage just wanted to scream and deliver one great Hadoken at the entire lot, but his gaze swept over the sea of creatures, trying to spot Thief among them. It was marvelous, yet infuriating, to see such a great gathering of monsters covering a giant field of withering grass, a requiem of roars and growls tolling in the air. The sun was so bright, yet he could plainly see thousands of bodies in flame, rock, and bone. He was unable to distinguish a single thing from the army. Black Mage continued his search for Thief, knowing it would have been suicide to just run in and yell out for the elf. “It’s impossible…there is no possible living way that stupid king of morons could have…I mean, I have the potential to, but…he…” Ceasing to mumble to himself, Black Mage could only handle his rage by trembling with fury and tightening his hands into fists. He suddenly wanted only one thing in the entire world for that moment of time; revenge.
A dark red horse with a mane of emerald flames galloped along, trampling Black Mage with such power, he could have sworn his spine had nearly snapped and his limbs had cracked in half. Its black hooves pounded against the ground, leaving a trail of fire in its wake, which also set Black Mage ablaze and he lifted his head, noticing a familiar figure mounted on the stallion’s saddled back. When he looked upon blue hair and tan skin, he forgot the fact that he was under excruciating pain due to the green embers burning his skin away and his body rendered immobile by the horse’s weight and legs. That was Thief right there, right there on top of that horse, ignoring him and merrily running away to an army of evil that rightfully belonged to him, Black Mage! With all his strength, he started to mutter under his breath, forcing out every little syllable.
“Ha…”
Thief and the stallion rode down towards the monsters.
“Do…”

[PCD]

I will hug you, Fighter. I will hug you whenever you want.

D'aww, Thief's taken over Hell, and is going after the kingdoms of his 'comerades'... He's so cute! I think that your writing is pretty good, but I must admit that some of the wording at points can be a bit awkward.
FYI, that is one badass cliffhanger.

[Seran]

Yeah, I've always thought the wording could get weird at times. But over time, I got used to them and stopped noticing...

+++
Part Three
The voices of the creatures arose with his approaching, echoing through skulls of the slain, helmets of steel, fangs of behemoths, and throats of beasts. Power surged through Black Mage’s arm as blue crackled around his sleeves, and he pressed his head against the hot ground, quaking from fury and agony, raising his hands that burned in their own blue fire.
“Kennnn!”
A massive beam of blue and white punched its way through the air, casting an ominous light upon the monsters below, and Black Mage shut his eyes against the force of the spell, unable to see Thief glancing over his shoulder and climbing onto his knees. The light engulfed him and much of the army below, more smoke joining the polluted atmosphere as the Hadoken left a great trail of red flames, cleared a path through screaming monsters, and overcame the area as sparks flew from the river of concentrated destruction, fueled by love stolen from the universe. Eventually, the power of the Hadoken literally pushed Black Mage off the hill, sending him off as it was redirected at the sky, the ground, the sky, the trees, and everything else that he could not see. The spell finally diminished, leaving Black Mage to spin through the air like a doll tossed aside, and to land on his stomach with a painful thud. He had landed on the side of the hill, so he rolled down from the inertia of his fall, not having directly plummeted from above to the ground in a straight direction. Black Mage rolled down the hill, grunting and yelling with every stab of pain that was forced onto him. Finally, he stopped a few inches away from the base of the hill, with a loud groan that obviously said, “I hate you all with an endless tide of loathing that will never wash away from the shores of hellish rage.” One thing did manage to cheer him up nonetheless.
Thief was dead.
Lifting his head weakly, he blinked at the black sky, and rain started to pour down from above. A claw of lightning slashed across the sky as the water drenched his clothing and his burns. Seconds later, thunder crashed through the sky loudly, making the mage tremble with it. He reached out at the wet grass, grabbing onto a few strands and pulling himself to them, in a poor attempt to move away from the scene of death. He did not know that Thief was peering over the top of the hill down at him.
“Just as I thought,” he muttered to himself, with his minions joining him with their own gazes. “Wonder whose side he’s on.” When the Hadoken had been cast, Thief took the opportunity to push himself onto his foot and knee, then kick off his infernal stallion’s back to leap over the blast, therefore landing in a safe range while a great portion of his army was destroyed – including his horse, of course. Normally, Thief would have simply gripped time for a moment, freeze all motion, and walk away, but his instincts had gotten the best of him at that time. Turning his head, his blue hair shining with rain, he nodded to the monsters by his sides and disappeared from the top of the hill.
“I’m gonna find this empire,” Black Mage muttered to himself, “and see what that idiot of a fighter is doing.”

Everything around him was dark. He felt that he was dying slowly but without the pain, for it had subsided long ago. The night somehow rushed to him in a split second, when he had closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the moon and stars were suddenly there. Black Mage laid in the grass, lost and exasperated. No one was there to lend a helping hand, even less white magic to heal him. He shivered in the cold, burying his face in the ground, but soon he lifted it to see snow on the ground, snow out of nowhere. Confused, he pushed himself onto his back, and landed in the snow. The snow was soft but freezing. Black Mage shuddered even more wildly, confused and helpless. He had not been able to feel his legs the entire time. Closing his eyes, unprotected against the serene bitterness of the air, he felt small clouds trail out with every breath he released, though it did little to warm him. He wrapped his arms around himself, curled up to try at giving himself warmth, and controlled the uneven rate of his breathing. No one was there to help him. No one…no one wanted to be there for the Black Mage. Unable to stand the cold, he lifted a hand and cast a fire upon the air, where it remained hovering. Calmed by the fire, he kept his eyes closed, wrapped his arms around himself, and felt himself drift away. He felt that minutes passed on in silence, except for the soft murmuring of the flame, his body sinking in the snow as flakes started to descend from above, the night quiet and peaceful. He had never felt so tranquil. The mage was all alone, without some annoying moron to annoy him, and without some beautiful woman to fire up his sexual desires. He simply laid there in peace. While Black Mage drifted away into slumber, he heard voices from a distance, a man shouting about something he could not hear, his voice echoing down the field. Perhaps someone saw the flame. Perhaps the glow attracted their attention. Maybe he wasn’t going to have peace after all…maybe he’ll be healed, and everything will be nothing but trouble again…
Footsteps in the snow were running towards him. But they sounded less like footsteps and more like galloping hooves. He couldn’t move, and so, he couldn’t see. He felt a tall figure loom over him, felt his fire put out by a soft wind, and felt his body being lifted by a strong hand. He fought against his fatigue to open his eyes, and as he was lifted onto the lap of someone, he noticed the dark figure of someone vaguely familiar. He raised an arm, feeling the back of a horse’s neck, his hand flattening its mane. His eyesight faded away just as he heard a familiar voice that he could not register.
“Don’t worry, pal. I’ll get you back to th…stle…hang on…”

[Mondt]

Meh. You and your cliffhangers.

I think either someone that hasn't been introduced into any story said it, or RM. Doesn't seems Fighter-ish and I don't think Thief would call him pal after he jsut tried to kill him.

[Seran]

That was not Thief, and of course it doesn't seem Fighter-ish! What is this, reality?

...That...that just sounded too awkward for my taste.

+++
Part Four
Black Mage awoke, and yet it was still the middle of the night. His eyes snapped open as he felt a cure spell being tossed upon him, and he stared at a white ceiling for a long moment, not responding in any way as a conspiracy immediately formed in his mind. Someone took him there so that he would become their slave and be thrown into the dungeon five times a day without him having any good food or water and they stripped him of his magely powers so that he would not be able to rebel! Lord, did he like to rant.
“Are you okay?”
Immediately, he turned his head at the girl’s voice, and his gaze was met with the eyes of White Mage. Black Mage sat up abruptly, but his forehead connected with a metal pole that was held over the bed, and he let out a yell before falling back into the bed. White Mage had been holding the silver pole, for she was simply keeping it until someone returned, and she immediately dropped it on the floor as Black Mage received a bruise.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t – I didn’t see that coming!”
“Yeah, yeah, sure…it’s okay, I’m fine…”
He sat up once more, rubbing his forehead and pushing his hat a bit, when someone with a long wooden plank mounted across his shoulders walked past. The plank smacked Black Mage in the back of the head.
“Ow.”
“Oop. Sorry, guest!” was the strong apology.
The mage leered as the bulky man walked away, watching a sleeveless figure with muscular arms walk away from him. He glanced back to White Mage, who was kneeling by the bed, her eyes full of worry.
“Well, hello!”
“Don’t even bother, you’re too late.”
“Say what?”
Black Mage quickly turned his head as he noticed another figure approaching. It was tall with a friendly but pale expression, with a cheerful gaze that struck dread into him every time. A white brown wrapped around his forehead, with a bush of messy, red hair sprouting out from every spot on his head, bearing a white cuirass, a red cape, white boots, white shoulder guards, and red beneath it all. Fighter had just come to check on the progress of his best friend. The warrior knelt down by White Mage just as she stood up, smiling down at him. Fighter nodded to her with a smile of his own, and she turned to leave them. Black Mage glanced around at his surroundings. There were marble walls of brilliant white, a grey tiled floor with different shades of grey, and the ceiling was domed, with a window at the top, showing a beautiful black frame that looked like vines stretching across the glass. Despite the marble walls, the room had a soft light and didn’t burn Black Mage’s eyes.
“What’re you doing here?” Black Mage asked Fighter quietly, too weak to be demanding.
“Are you kidding? I practically saved you.”
“That was you?”
“Yeah. Snow can be pretty evil to people who are lost in it, you know. One of the scouts saw the fire, so I went over and got you back here in this castle.” Fighter nodded, and it was then that Black Mage noticed a great difference in Fighter’s white crown. He quickly whipped out his hand, kept Fighter’s head bowed, and peered at it. The crown had a crimson jewel set in its center where a white diamond stretched out from the crown, and the peaks that were normally there were instead claws that curved over his head. Between the peaks and the diamond were more claws, smaller but still small hooks nonetheless, and there were two little sapphires on each side of the large ruby. Black Mage pushed Fighter back.
“Okay, talk. Where’d you get the crown.”
“Dude, I’m a freaking king. Don’t you see that?”
“Wait, what?”
The word king failed to register in Black Mage’s scrambled mind. Fighter lifted his hands and readjusted the crown on his head, his eyes cast up to make sure it was in the right position.
“Wait, what?” Black Mage repeated stupidly.
“King.”
“Wait, wha – “
“Okay, really. Stop that. Maybe king’s not the right word to describe it…”
Black Mage sighed, thinking Fighter really wasn’t a king after all.
“I’m more of an emperor.”
“No,” Black Mage interrupted, widening his eyes. “No. Just, no. You and your little fantasies are scaring me. Please stop talking. You are not the ruler of an empire that you named the Empire of the Shining Blade.”
“I was going to go with the Zodiac Empire.”
“Shut up!” Black Mage clapped his hands over his ears madly, shutting his eyes and shaking his head with fury. Fighter rose to full height, staring down at him.
“What, jealous?”
“I said shut up!”

[CelebrenIthil]

Too bad, Red Mage still not in the story!

I tought it was pretty obvious it was fighter (strong, and he says pal to BM), but we his he carrying aroung a plank, and WM with a pole? Hmmm...
Anyway, nightmare's gonna get even WORST for BM in the next part I believe...
((maybe because of a certain drawing...*whistle*))

It's good, continue! Tough I sometimes get lost (like in the crown description, I've understood but I have the feeling i've been reading sometime srambled...), but it's probably because English's not my first language and that your writting style is rather complex.
Anyway....
Go Seran GGOOOOO!!! :whee:

[Mondt]

I was wrong =( Fighter seems a bit smarter. Less naïve I guess. Well, how could he have gotten the be the emporer of the Empire of the Shining Blade without being a little bit intelligent?