Final Fantasy/8-Bit Theatre Fanstories

[DarkCORN!]

Are you going to make more of BM's nightmare?

[Seran]

Yes, but I need more time. I've started losing inspiration since Wednesday for the story.

[DarkCORN!]

You can borrow some of my inspiration! *hands inspiration*

[Quickman X]

Originally Posted by Seran

He had seen Black Mage use his Hadoken on a bee one time.

Perhaps it's simply my adoration of the word "bee" (you ask, you die), but I found that disorientingly hilarious.
In the meantime, I'ma try part of the DM story. It'll be short, mind, as I only have a limited amount of Internet time.
~
"So," said Fighter mildly, folding his arms. "What's the plan?"
An awkward pause followed, punctuated by Thief's exasperated groan. "Fighter, you really are an imbecile (Fighter, at this point, gave the ninja a rather wounded look). We've reviewed the plan of attack at least seven times, and each time you were looking around, playing with your cape, or fidgeting with leaves. It's not my fault that you--"
"Ssh. I'll handle this." Red Mage smiled resignedly, kneeling down beside Fighter. "Okay. What do you remember of the strategy?"
Fighter raised an eyebrow, lowering the other in an attempt to look thoughtful. He failed miserably, merely looking rather comical. "I was... I was supposed to... I dunno, something about swords." He abruptly jerked his head to the side as a steel blade flashed through the air where it had just been. "Relax, BM, I seriously don't remember. I'm trying, though..." His voice once again trailed off into thought, his topaz eyes closed in concentration. Red Mage poked him unenthusiastically, trying in vain to draw his attention.
"Fighter. Fighter. Hey, Fighter. I'll explain it, just listen. ...Fighter McWarrior, pay attention!"
"Huh...?"
"I said, pay... oh, you're listening. Good. Now, we're going to, to put it simply, ambush 'em. Any objections?" No response.
"I... don't think he knows what you mean by 'objections,' RM," muttered Thief cautiously, tugging at his scarf.
"Oh. In that case... you have any... what's the word... ah, yes, any complaints, any problems?"
The knight responded with an absent-minded shrug, his cape rippling. "Nah, sounds good."
"Great. Anybody else?" Thief shook his head, but Black Mage wasn't where he had just been standing. Both the hybrid mage and the ninja glanced around momentarily, but it was Fighter who first felt his friend in the form of a gloved hand settling on his shoulder.
"Hey, BM, how'd you get there? You teleport or something?"
"No," hissed the necromancer nastily, "you just weren't paying attention... which can prove to be..." Red Mage shuddered. Black Mage's tone was disconcertingly malicious.
"Can prove to be... what?" The being of pure hatred turned one glowing yellow eye on Thief, the poser of the question.
"...fatal."
Fighter opened his mouth as if to reply, but no words came out... just a thin trickle of blood. Slowly, a mask of shock covering his face, he looked down.
Two inches of steel, stained with blood, protruded from Fighter's chest -- the point of Black Mage's trusted knife.
"That's what you get for not watching," sneered the sorcerer. "Some lookout you are." Adjusting his grip on the hilt of the knife, he twisted sharply. Blood spurted through the air as Fighter slumped forward, choking on the thick crimson liquid welling up in his throat.
With a sickening rasp of metal on metal, the mage jerked the blade free of the knight's back, its full length dripping red.
"Just as I said... so, Fighter, how does that feel? Does it hurt? ...good."
The warrior was down on one knee, his gauntleted hand pressed against the wound in a vain attempt to stop the deluge of blood, now flowing freely. Suddenly his whole body tensed, and he doubled over, coughing violently. His dark companion smirked.
"Black Mage." The voice was dull, flat, and came from Red Mage. "Do you realize what you have just done?"
"What? I killed your... friend?" The last word was spat with contempt and a small, bitter chuckle that wavered and died as, with an inhuman display of effort and stamina, Fighter half-forced himself to his feet, only to collapse again. Black Mage made an unhappy tsk sound at the movement. "Make that almost killed."
"You... you... delayed our ambush plan!" Within five seconds of the last word, both BM and Thief had attempted a classic faceplant, collided, and fallen over backwards. "I'm out of magic, we don't have any potions that I know of, and this is going to take a while to heal."
Nursing his aching head, Thief softly murmured what was on his mind at the moment: "Black Mage, you damn idiot."


Drizz'l raised his head, sniffing the air. Garland looked at him curiously.
"What is it?"
"I smell... blood. Something's happened...." He grinned, revealing startlingly pointed fangs. "Something good.
~
Crappy, but, seeing as I typed it up at midnight, it could be worse. I'll probably just delete it later on...
::edit:: ...I... have... no recollection of typing this... almost. ...oh, an' I know BM's not a necromancer. They manipulate corpses, for crying out loud. I just wanted to call 'im one, possibly because of his morbid tendencies...
::return of the edit:: Added a little more violence. Jus' felt like it.

[Kila_angel]

hn.....pretty good. That was strange, in a good way.

[DarkCORN!]

Originally Posted by Quickman X

"No," hissed the necromancer nastily, "you just weren't paying attention... which can prove to be..." Red Mage shuddered. Black Mage's tone was disconcertingly malicious.

Um...BM's not a necromancer. He's a blue/ black mage.

[Seran]

But he's similiar to a necromancer through the behavior of his magic.

I liked that...and it especially scared me where Fighter got the knife stuck through his chest! Oh, and Drizz'l, Drizz'l has fangs, omigawd, fangs fangs fangs fangs....

Hehe. I'll be fine.

Anyway, I wonder...anyone else thinking...Bahamut?

[CelebrenIthil]

Okaaaaaay....

Well, you guys have totally lost me... ._______.
*shrugs*
Hmm, ignore me, just go on!
I'll probably continue to read. Have fun!

Oh, and I hope you get your inspiration back Seran. ^^"""
But, eh, take the necessary time...n_n

[Seran]

Lost you on where? ...Yeah, you're right. A few parts got kinda weird, but hey.

+++

“It – it means they’re both total dumbasses!” Black Mage cackled. “Zodiac of Exile? More like Crapiac of Exile!”
“BM, I strongly suggest – ”
“All-out beating on each other! Hah! Twelve swords, that’s ridiculous! That’s even more stupid than Fighter’s sword-chucks!”
“BM, did you even learn anything?”
Black Mage sat up, still chuckling. “Yeah. I learned Vargus was suicidal.”
“No,” Red Mage interrupted rather calmly, “that means from having two capable people watch his violent demonstration, two more people can learn how to use Zodiac of Exile. Since I’m one of those people, I know how to use it. Now, listen – ”
“What, you’re gonna get twelve swords and trip over your wings?”
“No. You saw how Vargus beat Fighter to a bloody pulp.”
“Yeah.”
“You have a weaker defense score than Fighter.”
“Hey!”
“That means here, you can get your ass handed to you on a fanciful silver platter.”
Black Mage fell silent.
“Back there, you could’ve gotten your ass whupped straight to space twice.”
He remained silent in the words of Red Mage's all-powerful wisdom.
“Good.”
“Does he like chocolate?” Celebren called from down in the kitchen.
“Do you like chocolate?”
Black Mage nodded in a stunned response.
“He does!”
I’m doomed, Black Mage thought quietly to himself. Oh, indeed. He was doomed.
“Well,” Red Mage said, the orb vanishing from his hands, “take a rest, night comes quicker than you know.” The Orb of Sight disappeared as it had spun in some direction, shrinking and fading away swiftly. Once it was gone with a mere pop, Red Mage turned around and walked out of the room. He shut the door behind him, leaving the magickless spellcaster alone in the room full of artifacts and treasures. Black Mage stood there, gazing around with a horrified glow in his eyes, and he slowly backed away into the chair that made him so comfortable. He sat down, drew his legs up to his chest, and wrapped his arms around them. Black Mage fell over so that he laid more on his side in the chair.
“Squeak.”
He gazed around with fright at the room around him, realizing that the three morons he had long sought to destroy were now each easily able to destroy him. He laid in the chair miserably, clutching his cloak around him tightly, his eyes wide as he gazed at the fire. He watched the embers dance for a long moment, the silence overwhelming, the light flickering. As he rested in the chair for a long moment, he could vaguely hear familiar voices.

For a moment, he felt himself abruptly pulled away into a different world, his consciousness torn from the nightmare to someplace where he felt terribly drowsy.

His vision was quite blurry, and he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming, was awake, or hd been dreaming but just still was. He saw someone stand over him in the moonlight, their shadow thrown onto him. He tried to lift his arm, but found he was too weak and too tired to. The figure was wearing a white robe with a red triangular pattern lining the edges of the sleeves, and the bottom of her robe, with her red hair glistening in the moonlight. He feebly stared, drifting back to slumber.
“Black Mage…?” she whispered, but her voice seemed so distant. The farther he fell back to the other world, the more faint voices he could hear.
“Is he okay?” he heard another voice ask.
“I don’t know…”
“Must be a bad fever,” commented a third voice.
“We can’t even see his face…” replied a fourth one.

He was suddenly on his feet, pacing back and forth in the room where Red Mage had left him. Black Mage didn’t remember pacing back and forth, but he was now, and he decided just to stick with it. He glanced up impatiently at the fire, then down at the carpet he trod on. Eventually, he heard someone open the door, so he turned and fled back to the chair, tackling it with full force. It toppled over, crashing into the floor with a loud, muffled racket, and Red Mage quickly jumped in with a platter of cookies balanced on one hand, with two plates of ham on the other. He saw that his beautiful chair had fallen.
“What are you doing?” he exclaimed, eyes wide. “Get up, quickly! And stand the chair up too!”
Black Mage groaned and rolled off the chair, off the side. He stopped on his knees, slid his hands under the chair’s back, and tried to lift it. The furniture was surprisingly light, even if it had made such a terrible noise when it had hit the floor. He stumbled for a brief moment, staring at the wall, his mind lost to the weightless chair. Red Mage walked in farther, looking at Black Mage for a short time before he handed him a plate of ham.
“Here.”
Black Mage held it flatly, staring at the wall.
“Is something wrong?”
There was no response.
“Are you traumatized?” Red Mage asked, poking him lightly in the side of the head. Black Mage merely leaned over for a moment, then slowly returned to a straight standing position. Red Mage stared at him, backed away a few steps, then walked out the door. Indeed, Black Mage was traumatized.

[Kila_angel]

Yay!! You got your inspiration back! I'm making a story, and it's called 'War of the...Warriors?!' I'll post the first chappie when I have more time...