Final Fantasy/8-Bit Theatre Fanstories

[Seran]

"W-what was that about?"
"What? The attacks?"
"That underwater monstrosity tried to drown me and impale my carcass!"
"It already stabbed your once-soon-to-be-carcass."
"Crimson!"
After the assault, Crimson and Red Mage were once again walking along the path, this time returning to the home of Blakc Mage and the absent Fighter. red Mage had flung his arms in the air out of fear and shock, thinking that he felt the prongs of that trident on his back.
"Please don't taunt me like that. It's not very nice."
"Taunt? I was only stating the facts."
Crimson had kept his gaze on his comrade from the time they had departed.
"But facts can taunt..." replied Red Mage, who hung his head rather miserably. Crimson nodded as he realized what he meant and glanced to the side. He instead decided to focus on the bushes, although the silence was what captivated his ears. Red Mage then raised his head to the branches above, wanting only to watch the trees disappear into the sidelines of his vision, and yet another uneasy silence fell for the remainder of the trip. Well, it would've been the remainder if someone had not halted them soon after.
Down came Thief, tumbling from a tree.
He landed on the ground with an "OOF!" and a new bruise on his head, and then he fell onto his arm and side. The ninja winced, looking rather ashamed of such a clumsy performance, but he quickly collected his senses and gathered himself, leaping up onto ihs feet. Crimson stared with an awkward and indifferent expression, although it seemed to conceal scowling, and Red Mage jumped forward and hugged Thief like a frightened cat.
"Oh my god, where have you been...?"
"Ghhk -- get -- off -- me -- human!"
Red Mage's hug, despite his highly flawed flesh and fragile bones, was crushing the elf. Thief would not seem as desperate if the hug was more lighter. But this particular embrace was very constricting. Crimson's mouth-mask shifted, as though he had opened his mouth to comment, but he quickly withdrew and pulled his hat tighter against the top of his skull. Barely any hair could be seen. Thief, gasping for breath but only hurting his lungs, found a time to relax well after Red Mage had released him, and then Thief eyed Crimson with great suspicion.
"You seem familiar."
"Fascinating."
The simple and clever comment made Thief stare at Crimson's face, as though trying to detect a hint of sarcasm, but he instead looked at Red Mage.
"Hey. You. I've been thinking while I was gone. There appears to be a bounty slapped on your pale forehead, you know."
Red Mage's grin faded, and he blinked at Thief.
"...You're not going to..."
"I've been considering more whether it would be more profitable to turn you in, or to help you."
Then the mage instantly began to pray that Thief would turn to aiding him through these dark times. Crimson chuckled heartily with a slap on his back. It seemed that he was confident; he seemed to believe that Thief would not hand Red Mage over for a reward, despite how large it could be.
"So, how's it been?"
"Well Black Mage appears to think you're dead."
"Oh really...?" Thief set his elbow in the other hand, whilst he rubbed the side of his chin with his finger in a gesture of contemplation. "And how do you know Black Mage? What's your name?" The elf began inspecting the red wizard's armor, which still had black lines along the borders of its plates, but he appeared to be hiding his hair beneath his hat for some reason.
"Crimson."
"Tell me, do you know a certain fighter named...Fighter?"
The wizard raised an eyebrow. "...That I do."
"Do you happen to be related to him?"
Then confusion took hold of Red Mage. He began to glance between the two, confounded. Crimson squinted. For some reason, it appeared that he could not believe that this was Thief.
"What's your name?"
"You should know..."
A silence came, but shuddered in the presence of more voices.
"No. I am not related to him."
"Hm..."
Red Mage stared at Thief, who was attempting to question Crimson even further.
"Not to startle you or anything, but something about you reminds me of him."
Thief was right.
"I just came from the same school as Fighter. Be off."
"On the contrary, I'll escort you home. How about that?"
Red Mage was confused. He didn't understand what the either of them were doing. Crimson shrugged, Thief nodded, and all of a sudden, the three were walking in a scattered formation back to the abode of the lone Black Mage, with Thief in the front and Red Mage in the back. Crimson was off to the side.

[DarkCORN!]

Hooray! Thief is alive!

[Quickman X]

*pokes thread back to life*
Reinforcing the RM/Thief deal much? Nah, just kidding.
Wonder where the story's going...

[Spookty]

Sorry to like,REVIVE this or whatever,but...
Doncha just HATE it when a good story gets discontinued?

[Seran]

I'm sorry I have not been updating. So much has happened lately, when added with beforehand laziness.

I will attempt to update soon.

[Edit2] Eh. I realize the filler story was badly done. Knew from the start. I just don't have the will to continue the Red Mage story though.

[EDIT]
Meanwhile, please do accept this mildly done story that I've decided to write just to compensate for the lack of updates.

"I'm not stupid, I know you -- hey, don't you dare -- !"
The click of a disconnecting phone sounded through the receiver. Frustrated, the man slammed his own phone right onto the switch hook, cracking the handset in half. His fingers tightened on the pieces. King Steve was truly a cheating and insolent fool. Someday, he would find the dagger of death at his throat for his incompetent treachery. In an attempt to rid himself of his rage, the man lifted the halves of the handset and attempted to crush it with his hand, allowing the jagged edges to cut into his skin. He thrust them aside and listened as their bangs against the stone wall echoed throughout the great, empty chamber.
A sigh escaped him and he collapsed into the armchair, next to the round coffee table. The chair was...thin. It lacked in the plushy softness that most armchairs had. Its wooden frame was chick and its black velvet was worn and leathery.
"There's something called a consequence," the man muttered to the dark wall, "...Steve."
Knowing that he had just destroyed his phone, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a cell phone. He flipped it open, held it up to his left ear, and immediately searched through his contacts list without a glance. He selected the desired collector of his second call, waited for him to respond, and spoke into the transmitter.
"He has refused pay. Send them forth."
The man's grey eyes were dull in the darkness, but there was a glitter of malevolence within them nonetheless. His black hair fell over his eyes and hung at the middle of his spine. The man relaxed in his chair. For a moment the silence calmed him. He then drifted away into his dreams, freeing his concerns for Corneria and his band, knowing that King Steve would soon be exterminated...

The woman spun quite absentmindedly among the growing flowers. She danced in the daytime, accepting that its light was not something to fear. Her white robes followed her motions as she spun, slowed, stepped forth, and spun once more. She did not mind the dark elf watching her with a drowsing expression. His black wizard's hat fell over his white bangs and golden eyes. The white wizard danced over to him as he sat against the tree, his knees drawn up. She smiled and tapped on the brim of his hat.
The dark elf stirred and gave a confused splutter. He cleared his throat, shook his head a bit, and leaned forward while he lifted his hat away from his eyes to meet his friend's blue eyes.
"What?"
"Nothing..." she replied, and she smiled in a silent giggle that fluttered in her chest.
"Really? ...How's today?"
"Splendid. I'm more used to the sunlight."
"Marvelous for you. But I'm a dark elf. I'm supposed to hide from it."
"I know." She sat down in front of him, combing her nails through her brown hair. "I guess I just feel more free after that stressful adventure of ours..."
"Makes you and I wonder how the other two are doing, eh?" The black wizard rested his hand on his stomach, the other still sitting in the grass.
"I heard Curp's become a knight of Corneria."
"I heard Agin's become a ninja mercenary."
"Really?" She raised an eyebrow for a brief moment, then lowered both. "I thought he said he would only work alone unless with us..."
"He is working alone." The dark elf straightened up, scratching the side of his head. "They say he lurks in suspicious taverns..."
Seran nodded at the lazy Marite.
"Taverns..."

His phone was ringing. A frown crossed his lips and he immediately answered it, flipping it open and whispering into the transmitter.
"What?"
The stiff voice of his partner struck through. For most the voice would seem tired and frustrated. For him he could hear spitting hatred.
"He has refused pay. Send them forth," was the call, and then silence. Agin closed the phone and slipped it into his pocket.
"Well, well..." he sighed, closing his eyes and setting his elbows against the table, his chin on the back of one hand, while the other rested on his arm. "King Steve should've thought this out a little more. Too bad the kingdom he was rebuilding will come down. I have a job to do." Agin arose from the table and approached the one that was a few feet away, although more than one stranger had settled around it. "Kill them -- and you three will aid me in demolishing a portion of Corneria." He pointed at three large and bulky men before retreating with an impassive expression.

His blue eyes stared past the window as he watched Corneria's newly recruited guards fend off a small group of attacking assassins. His light blond hair was brightened in the sunlight, red armor gleaming with Corneria's emblem engraved on the chestplate. With a hand he fixed his white headpiece on his head. Its green jewel seemed to glow with glory.
Curper's silence was total and absolute. He knew that Agin had decided to make a move on Corneria. He felt guilty that he did not speak with the king that morning. The king never understood. He was an idiot, thinking that there were elections in a monarchy, thinking it was quite alright to wear flesh-shoes made of infants, and thinking that it was possible to drill for mana. His hand traveled toward the wound on his side, and the other supported his forehead as he dropped his head with exasperation. There was incompetence wherever they went in this kingdom. Even the guards were insufficient. He listened as they were felled, one by one, and the panic of citizens soon grew prominent.
"Knights!" called the voice of his commander. "Gather around our very round table and let us discuss the attack that is being...uh...done on us!"
He would've laughed if the commander had not sounded so stupid.
The commander, looking far more regal than Curper himself, strode around the corner and saw the young man by the window in his stressed stance.
"What are you doing? Get going!"
Curper remained silent, unable to speak.
"Well?"
"I will join you in a brief moment. Please allow me to...recuperate...Commander."
A scornful expression passed the man's face. "Whatever."
Departing footsteps met his ears. He lifted his head from his hand, glanced toward the corner from which his commander had emerged moments ago, and pressed his other hand against his most recent wound. The previous battle left him in pain. And certainly -- most certainly -- he would not do battle with a comrade. He understood well enough that it was merely Agin's duty to do as he was told. He was a mercenary after all.

Knights marched out with additional guards to meet the mercenaries. Agin watched from above the latest of destroyed buildings. It towered over them with walls blown off the metal frames, and he could see several faces perring up at him. Curper was not among their ranks.
Then I will not have to harm him.
The ninja fled down toward them like an agile cat, literally running on hands and feet along the metal poles and bars at the earth. He landed on his four limbs. In a quick moment, the ninja was tearing at them with a katana, aided by his temporary companions and their magic. Dust and smoke had risen into the air, the stench of blood swimming in their nostrils and heads. All was a dark blur around him, and as he lashed at a knight's thigh with his blade, a wave of blood splattered into his eye. He squinted that one eye, narrowed the other, and leapt up as he sunk his weapon into an opponent's skull. Fellow magic flew by his shoulder and engulfed a foe in a prison of flames.

Seran and Marite watched from a distance, atop that hill, accompanied by the many flowers and scattered trees.
"What's that commotion...?" asked the white wizard, her light blue eyes full of worry.

"You should've put more thought into it..."
"Nonsense, Gary, now get me some coffee."
"Sir, this is Curper Wrill of the Cornerian Knights...and I am afraid to say that your choice was beyond poor."
"Sara, is that you?"
"Your Highness, I beg that you listen..."
"Well, whoever you are, get me some coffee."
Any conversation with this idiot of a king would tempt one into immediate suicide.
"My King, your kingdom is being attacked because you refused to negotiate!"
"Well, a pack of face-shoes is very expensive."
"A pack of..."
"Face-shoes, yes. And man-coats as well! Have you heard of the latest trend in human-made armor?"
"Human-made?"
"Human skin, that is!"
"Sir, I am thoroughly disgusted! I refuse to accept that I ever joined the Cornerian Knights!"
"...Huh? Oh, Gary! Get me some coffee."
"Augh! I'm leaving."

+++

And just when you think things are serious, something goofs up... That ever happen to you? Not me. I used my characters from my Final Fantasy One game, by the way...I like to call them the Fate Hunters...

[Sir Pinkleton]

...Well? It's been a month since you last left off, did you forget? Or is it a writer's block? let me continue enjoying the story, damnit.

[Seran]

Instead of Black Mage awaiting them, there was an old man in a red robe, thoughtfully stroking a long beard with a cane at his side. He was staring somewhat blankly at the ceiling. Wherever Black Mage was, he seemed to be of no concern to any of them.
"What are you doing here, geezer?" Thief immediately said from behind the two wizards.
"Ah!" The elder's eyes immediately flicked to where the three stood. "I was so hoping you would come by. I had a quest in mind."
This quickly lifted Red Mage's drowning spirits. "Quest?" he started, jumping to full attention.
"Why yes!" the man wheezily chuckled. "I have been waiting for a delivery to come, but it seems none has come at all! Can you fetch it for me instead? Just don't botch it!"
"We'd love to, but we have no ti -- "
"OF COURSE!" Red Mage hollered gleefully, ensuring that Crimson could not be heard. Crimson seemed to be attempting at holding back a spitting insult.
He nodded and breathed, "Right...right."
"Off we go!"

Even in this quest, Crimson was in a great hurry. No matter where they wandered he dragged them along in half of a sprint. Thief snaked about in the shadows, slithering after them. Red Mage stumbled over the path, despite his fragile skin and weak bones. He was determined to prove he was still worthy of this quest. The orb which had considerably lowered his defense and attack attributes was now sitting on his back between his shoulderblades.
In the faint light his silver hair shone, following his trail, followed by the ever-silent Thief and the whispers of the wind.
It was at that moment their thinker had decided to spark random conversation.
"Your gods...they are unreal. Yet you and your magic are. That's what I believed the whole time I knew you." He rushed off the path and into the forest, tearing his cloak away from a thorned root that clawed out from the earth. Red Mage followed, though Thief was slow to enter.
"...Hyeh?"
Red Mage pursued his comrade into the deepest areas of the forest, where the canopy and darkness were thick with evil. One could almost grasp a tendril of shadows and pull it from its home.
"The way you twisted the rules of reality with strange tactics, what with dice-rolling and tests..."
Crimson leapt over another root.
"I believed many things for a long time...until I was forced to run to that which I had no interest in, away from what had long given me purpose to live." His hand grasped the handle of his rapier.
"You're not making sense," said Red Mage, and he ducked under a branch. However a twig scraped his cheek and left a scratch that was deeper than what it normally should've been. "Are you sane?"
Crimson pushed a branch away from him and released it, sending the branch flying into whatever was behind him -- and that whatever happened to be Red Mage. He fell over with a yowl of hurt. Thief stopped at his fallen body, staring down. It took a few grunts of effort and several struggles before he could properly stand. There was a red slash right across his face. He dashed off after Crimson, suddenly unable to wait to retaliate in the most quick and harmful way that would compensate for the bleeding mark.
Instead, he crashed into Crimson without knowing he was there and fell, yelping.
"What?" asked a rather blunt Crimson. He glared down at the mage sitting on the ground. Shaking his head, the man could only stand and stagger before his taller comrade, attempting to straighten himself.
"It's...it's nothing," he sighed, feeling only more pathetic than before. Crimson shook his head and continued on his way. "You were saying?" mumbled Red Mage, pursuing him again.
"How'd you come to learn all of this?"
"All of what?"
"The character sheet, the die, the checks..."
"Oh. Just something from long ago."
"We know nothing about you, it seems."
"Hm?" Red Mage glanced up, but all he saw was the back of Crimson's hat. "So?"
He could hear Crimson mutter something odd.
"Cabin ahead," Thief reported from the trees above them.
"Good. I want to finish this as quickly as possible."
"But," interrupted Red Mage, "this is not a time-related quest! We could take as much time as we wanted!"
"Whatever."
Without further conversation, they strode up to the door. Red Mage eagerly knocked on the wood. It creaked open rather quickly, revealing a figure in a blue coat rimmed with white furry material, and their face was hidden by darkness. Immediately he became suspicious. This person seemed similiar to one of the tundra knights who had deceived him into unleashing the cataclysm. However, the person pulled their hood down, and their eyes were perfectly normal. The irises were brown with a mild shine to them. Her lips curled into a sincere smile, and she nodded at the three.
"Yes? May I help?"
"A package needs delivering," Crimson said flatly. "We need to send it to an old man. He said the sender's area was here."
"Oh! I'll go get my grandpa. Grandad!" The girl turned and rushed up, her brown hair whipping behind her. Soon, another elder descended from the stairs, hobbling along though not with a cane or walking stick as most old men did. There was a sloppily wrapped box in his hand. He stretched out his arm to Red Mage, smiling, and gave him the package to deliver. He was wearing a red robe.
"Give old Grant my hearty greetings," he requested clearly and happily.
"With pleasure!"

"You lost it?"
Thief was watching the two wizards from above as Red Mage searched the ground.
"You lost it."
"Okay, okay, I lost it!" cried Red Mage, leaping to his feet. "But we can find it again!" He tossed a d20 into the air, and it landed with a six on the top. "Curses!"
"Here, let me try..." Crimson knelt down, took the die, and rolled it about in his enclosed hand. He then let it fall to the ground with a sixteen on the top. His eyes came to an object hidden within the leaves, and so it was to the package he came, lifting it from the growth and brushing leaves off its top.
"That's not fair, how come you find it and I don't...!"
"Well," blatantly pointed Crimson, "the universe likes to think everything's your fault."
"I thought you were my friend!"
"It's only friendly advice, calm down..."
Red Mage sat on the ground, arms crossed angrily. He watched Crimson clean off the rest of the filth staining the box before he was walking off once more. He pushed himself onto his feet, now bleeding from scratches all over his skin.
"Hey, look. It's Jackie Chan."
Thief pointed to the sky, where there was a man standing in an airplane, obviously prepared to attempt a suidicial stunt.
"That's not Chan," Red Mage said in return.
"Yes it is. Are you calling me a stupid elf with no sense of recognition whatsoever?"
"As a matter of fact -- "
"Contract."
" -- no I am not," he sighed, slapping himself in the face.

[Robert Paulson]

Presenting: Better Red than Dead. This takes place before the class change, but after the death of Black Belt.

The four Warriors of Light were marching down a worn-out path, as usual, in a vast land of plains and greens. Fighter, wanting to make conversation, said, "Hey BlackMage, I'll bet you can't guess what I'm thinking about!" BlackMage, feeling a sense of annoyance, replied, "Gee, I don't know. Is it pointy, metallic, and can put someone's eye out?" Fighter stated with astonishment, "Whoa! How'd you know? Do you have ESPN?" BlackMage said back, "I was guessing that you were thinking about razors, right?" Fighter, with a childlike glee, answered, "Nope! You're wrong! It was swords!" Thief interrupted, "Enough rambling, my inferiors. I just spotted something of importance." He was correct, for to their right lie an abandoned videosphere. Thief picked up the videosphere and commented, "I wonder if this still works."

The videosphere came on. A holographic image of a man appeared. The man was dressed exactly like RedMage, and he even looked just like the crimson wizard, except instead of sporting grey hair and black eyes, the wizard in the videosphere had black hair and blue eyes. The message showed him saying, "Well, I'm now starting the next leg of my journey. For those of you who may not know, I've been hearing rumors lately that there are people in the real world who served as inspirations for people in imaginary worlds, worlds I've come to love very much. If you must know my motive, I am interested not in XP nor gil, nor am I looking for a rare artifact. I'm simply looking for a good time. If this quest of mine is successful, I could be fighting alongside the greatest swordsman history has ever known one moment, and then the next, I could be raiding an opera house, searching for a female general disguised as a soprano. The possibility for good times would be endless! But this journey has been quite perilous thus far. I sure hope I don't die anytime soon, for that would be really inconvenient. So, if anyone's been wondering what I've been doing for the last couple of months, it's that I've been roleplaying, in the real world. Sincerely, the Red Mage." And the videosphere shut off, and with it, the image. Everyone looked at RedMage. Fighter asked, "Was that, you?" RedMage stumbled, "No, i-it couldn't have been. My eyes and hair have a different color scheme." "But he called himself RedMage." Thief added. RedMage said, "Correction; he referred to himself as THE red mage. I wouldn't ever sign out a videosphere like that." Then he paused. RedMage continued saying, with a bright expression on his face, "Wait a moment, I know what this is; this is the start of a sidequest! And I know just what this, videosphere has in store for us. We'll look for this shameless imposter of mine, and in the process, we'll dress in skanky outfits, going on many sexually implicit sidequests at the same time, and inbetween our wacky misadventures, we'll make pop-culture references during random encounters and giggle like little schoolgirls the entire time! This sounds like we're gonna have a fun time!" Fighter, BlackMage and Thief all stared coldly at RedMage. BlackMage, feeling raw anger once more, reached for his dagger and stabbed RedMage very quickly. Thief then delivered a highkick to RedMage's face. Fighter told, "I'd join in the senseless violence, but I haven't the heart to do so." RedMage stood up, despite being injured, and continued, "Okay, I''ll be honest, that last idea of mine was a little outrageous. Only someone completely wasted on amnesia dust would even think of going on that campaign." BlackMage said, "I have a better idea; let's play the Quiet Game, wherein you try to go as long as possible without saying anything. You go first, RedMage." RedMage replied, "Alright. I'll participate in this game, but you better offer me a gracious amount of experience if I win." "Whatever you desire." BlackMage concluded, then thought to himself, so long as you SHUT UP ALREADY!!!! Thief ordered, "Okay, if we're bored enough, we'll go looking for this red mage, and at the same time, we'll do our best to pretend that we never heard our red mage's idea of a quest."

Several hours later, and several mishaps of random encounters later, night had fallen. There was only one source of light; a campfire far off in the distance. The Light Warriors went to the fire, and they came across something strange. The fire was situated near a lone tree. Sitting next to the fire was a man who looked just like the red mage in the videosphere. the other red mage was holding up his hands, forming shadow puppets against the tree trunk and with light from the fire. He opened and closed one hand, like a mouth, and began talking in a cheesy yet dramatic voice, "Oh no! A sociopathic swordsman just killed you! I can't live with myself anymore! Whatever will I do? Wait, I know! I'll use a Phoenix Down!" He began opening and closing his other hand, now speaking in a falsetto range, "Wha-what happened just now?" Going back to his other hand, he said, "A certain effeminate mama's boy, who will remain anonymous, just tried to kill you. Luckily, I was around, and had a Phoenix Down handy." Switching to his other hand, he said in falsetto, "Oh. I should be more careful next time. Say, may I ask you something?" He said with his other hand, "Sure. What is it?" He said with his female sounding hand, "Will you make out with me?" He then said with his male sounding hand, "I thought you'd never ask!" At that moment, RedMage interrupted with, "Found you, doppleganger!" The other red mage was startled. Fighter said, "Oh! You just spoke! Now it's your turn, BlackMage!" BlackMage questioned, "My turn for what?" Fighter exclaimed, "Oh! You lost! Wow, for someone who likes the Quiet Game so much, you sure aren't any good at it." The other red mage asked, "Who might you people be?" Thief told, "We're the Light Warriors. Oh, I know it's haphazard to pry into the behavior of non-Elves, but, what were you doing just a moment ago?" The other red mage answered, "Oh, I was, uh, revising, yeah, revising a story I heard somewhere. Say, did you like any of it?" RedMage said, "Enough small talk! I have found my evil counterpart, and as per RPG tradition, we must fight to the death!" The other red mage told, "Wait a second. Evil? Do you even know what my alignment is? It's Chaotic Good, in case you're wondering. Say, what's your alignment, supposed evil counterpart?" RedMage thought, and said, "You know, I don't really know." The other red mage asked, "If you don't know, then what's the alignment of your traveling companions?" RedMage glanced at BlackMage. When he looked at BlackMage, RedMage imagined the black wizard's voice saying, "Ha ha ha ha! Stab stab! Lightning Lightning! I murder the innocent and drink the blood of babies! I'm Chaotic Evil!" Then RedMage looked at Thief, and imagined the Elf prince saying, "I look out for myself, and no one else! I make comments at the expense of those who aren't Elvish and I steal, steal, steal! As for my alignment, put me down as Chaotic Neutral." RedMage then looked at Fighter, and imagined the sword wielder's voice saying, "Duh, I'm dumb! And Lawful Good!" RedMage then began to elaborate, "well, I don't know either, but if I were to venture a guess . . . "

At that precise moment, everything disappeared. The plains, the fire, the Light Warriors, and both red mages vanished. In its place was a figure in a red robe, and quite a handsome mustache. The figure said aloud, "Oy, this what-if scenario is getting way out of hand. At first it was cute, seeing little ladies chase after the one of Elven blood. By the time I introduced Moogles into it, it started getting tiresome, but now, it's too outlandish, even for me. I don't think I'll be making anymore visions of what the Chosen Ones' lives could've turned out any longer. It's just too much for any soul to bear. But, an omnipotent being must keep himself occupied. I think for the time being, I'll go back to doing what I do best . . . "

Back in the world, the real, physical world, four distiguised individuals were mounting four golden Chocobos of legend. One of the radiant figures said, "With these beasts of legend, we can now travel anywhere around the world, at a moment's notice! Now the lands are safe once more-" Before he could finish his sentence, the Chocobos exploded without warning. The four figures were drenched in feathers, blood, and Chocobo gibs. One of the figures yelled, "Damn it, Barry! What could've gone wrong this time!?" The one called Barry replied, "A wizard did it."

The end. (It's just one part this time.)

EDIT: Since no one's posting here, I'll add the director's commentary.

The whole scene with the videosphere featuring a RedMage look-a-like and RedMage's suggestion of a sidequest is an allusion to Final Fantasy 10-2. Funny when you consider that I've never played FF 10-2.

The scene that my self-inserted character was re-enacting was a retelling of The Most Famous Scene in Final Fantasy History. Here's a hint; one of my shadow puppets was Cloud and the other was Aeris.

And yes, Sarda did reveal that every one of my 8-bit fanfics is really just a reimaging he played out for himself. I did this for two reasons: 1( I wanted to show that my fics aren't canon, and 2( I'm not doing anymore 8-bit fanfics. Ever. I'm burned out.

Lastly, those were the Real Light Warriors at the end. And, when I wrote "Better Red than Dead", my blood-caffeine level was above the legal limit. Okay, I'm through here. It was fun while it lasted.

[Quickman X]

Damn. I'm sorry, I just can't let this thread die. There are too many unfinished works here.
Yes, it's three months old. I'm aware of that. I realize that this is necromancy, and that it may well get me into deep shit.
I'm not letting it die.
I've got some stories I wrote earlier to post to this, but I'm not gonna do it now. Hope this revived thread gets put to good use, guys.

[Karenaide]

(This story happened approximately five years after the events of 8-Bit Theatre.)

This is a true story. It happened approximately five years after the events of 8-Bit Theatre. This is a graphic tale, not for the younger users of this Forum. A strong heart, stomach and resolve are all recommended. Reader discretion is advised.

Black Mage was walking through the countryside, the smell of wildflowers and ripe fruit drifting in the slow breeze. He looked about at the tranquil world, longing for the chaos and brutality of his own home. Suddenly, dark clouds crackling with red bolts of lightning swirled overhead, letting off a whooshing noise that nearly forced Black Mage to the ground. He glanced up, wondering at the strange events, and saw the cause of this disturbance. Rather, before he saw it, he felt it. The magical aura that a person gives off is called Magitsu, or 'Magic Pressure'. It is usually a feeling ranging in intensity from a twitch in your stomach to a blast of power that paralyzes you for up to several minutes. Black Mage had a Magitsu that gave off a feeling of inexplicable dread, capable of driving very weak-willed creatures insane.

Black Mage felt two incredible Magitsu, clashing in the furious melody that is mortal combat. He saw two men, one wearing black robes much like his own and the second wearing a ragged-edged, black overcoat with a crimson inside and pants made of a similar black material. The first wore tall, black leather boots and a black bandana with a white skull painted crudely on it. The second wore hunter's boots, which were like shoes with a small heel, and a black Adept hat, which was similar to Black Mage's own hat, with a crimson crucifix where Black Mage had a golden crescent. Both held swords which were very different in appearance. The first man, who was a Magi Manipulator, held a broadsword which was only two feet long. The second, who was no Mage like Black Mage had ever seen nor heard of, held a long, tapering katana which was pitch black in hue and had an intricate cross-guard shaped like a four-paned window, the four panes forming a cross. At the end of this sword's handle were two long, thin silver chains, each holding a blood-red crescent-moon. These men were engaged in a duel to the death.

The unidentified Mage, whose name was Magnum , was not paying any attention to the aspects of battle, his all seemed focused on attack. The Manipulator had barely kept up with these strikes, and even taken a hit which rent him open from his left hip to his right shoulder. Magnum opened his mouth and said in a voice that struck fear into Black Mage's heart, but at the same time it made him feel safe, like hearing about a terrible event happening far away. You fear that this event may come to you, but at the same time know that it won't.

"You won't live through this, Ataru!" Magnum shouted. In one swift, heavy stroke Ataru pulled his sword upwards, slitting a small mark in Magnum's chin. This small opening was all he needed to thrust his sword into Magnum's chest, and then spin it around, tearing a large hole through him. Blood spurted forth in a great stream, soaking Ataru.

"No, it is you who won't live, Magnum," He stomped down, crushing his opponents blood-soaked head into the dust, and disappeared in a wisp of smoke. Black Mage didn't know what to do, save the man called 'Magnum', or let him die? On the one hand, he was a strange Mage, and may know spells that, in return for saving him, he could teach to Black Mage. But on the other hand, who knew the power he held? Who knew his intentions? Would he turn traitor? It was too much to bear, this decision. Black Mage had no recollection of the next few hours, all he knew was that he had brought the man to the Light Warriors Citadel.

***
So, um, should I continue, or is this a sad, sad attempt at a story that is better off in my Recycle Bin?