Razzi3l: Coming up with a character name.
Razzi3l: Is effing hard.
Agent_86: name it Max
Stefan88: Only if you try too hard.
Agent_86: =D
Razzi3l: Max Hard.
Razzi3l: The title of the Novel is
Razzi3l: The Humble Beginnings of Max Hard: Or How the First of the Two Moons of Earth Was Destroyed.
Stefan88: Max Hard?
Stefan88: Unless he destroys that moon with his penis, I think you might want to consider another name.
Laxaria: don’t ask.
Laxaria: T_T
Razzi3l: Yea, he screws the moon to destruction Stefan.
Stefan88: Interesting…
Razzi3l: He is just that manly.,
Agent_86: facepalm
Stefan88: That is pretty damn manly… and desperate, but manly.
Razzi3l: :-P
Razzi3l: If you can’t kill it, screw it. If you can’t screw it, kill it.
Razzi3l: Max Hard’s two rules.
Razzi3l: Of being a man.
Stefan88: Hmmm, I’m not sure I agree with encouraging buggery in order to be a man.
Razzi3l: Compared to Max Hard, everyone is a weak woman.
Stefan88: I summarised this conversation to my girlfriend. Her response: “Oh God… My brain…”
Razzi3l: Max Hard just mind-screwed your girlfriend.
Razzi3l: I suggest you don’t engage in intimacy with her for 30 days or you too might get pregnant.
Stefan88: Careful, you might break her nose with all this facepalming.
Jaxous: Owch.
Razzi3l: The only person allowed to hit woman is Max Hard.
Razzi3l: Tell your girlfriend to stop damaging Max Hard’s property.
Razzi3l: I should totally write a chauvinistic character as a protagonist. Like the TF2 comics and Mann.
Laxaria: Thomas Mann?
Razzi3l: I don’t recall his name.
Razzi3l: All I remember is that he’s manly as hell.
Razzi3l: Anyways, I believe I shall be going to sleep.
Razzi3l: I have all day tomorrow to write.
Razzi3l: And I shall have to research some things as well.
Razzi3l: Good night everyone.
Stefan88: See ya
Ikamabob: Night.
Stefan88: Who would have thought, Razzi is a closet chauvinist.
Razzi3l: Stefan, tell your girl Max Hard will say Good Morning.
Razzi3l: Haha.
Stefan88: Max Hard will learn he is measuring manhood on a scale so womanly we don’t even recognise it in my home country.
Razzi3l: I’m just a very good actor.
Razzi3l: Had to come back to read what Stefan wrote.
Razzi3l: Max Hard says that those are fighting words. He says he will find you. And he will screw you.
Stefan88: He needs to have “fighting” explained to him… Either that or he thinks he can’t kill me.
Razzi3l: There is killing which ends in death. There is fighting which ends in sex.
Razzi3l: Max Hard is a kind man.
Ikamabob: This is quite possibly one of the most disturbing conversations I have ever seen. Just saying.
Stefan88: Hmm, someone in the neighbourhood is going ballistic…
Razzi3l: Try participating in it Ikama.
Razzi3l: It’s much more disturbing.
Ikamabob: I’d rather not. I’m not manly enough to participate in such things.
Ikamabob: I’ll just sit here in my dress with my tiara.
Razzi3l: Max Hard pities your little womanhood. He will put you on his list to be ravaged.
Ikamabob: My sphincter tightens in anticipation.
Razzi3l: Max Hard girds his lions for the feast.

Named after its numerous ravens, Ravendale lied at the outskirts of Mistral Woods. The wood’s tall trees blocked out the sun so the further one delved into the woods, the harder it was to find one’s bearings. Despite not being mapped out completely, plenty of men from Ravendale made a living hunting the various animals within the dark woods, so much that the town was slightly famed for its pelts. It goes without saying, some of the hunters never came back. Of the men who chose not to hunt, they instead cultivated what land they could.

It was such a man, who chose to be a farmer, and his wife who were Liz’s parents. They were still new to Ravendale when Liz was born and on that fateful day, one life began at the cost of another. The farmer was unable to find a midwife in Ravendale that could help him, so he alone delivered his child. After the arduous birth he held in his arms the two people most precious to him, his dying wife and his newborn sleeping child. He promised his wife that he would care for their child as if she had the both of them. His wife just kissed him one last time, whispering, “Sorry I broke my promise; I know you’ll take care of Liz.”

He never remarried after her death, such was his love for her. He acted as both Liz’s father and mother while working the fields by himself. Thus the years passed, with Liz growing up learning more of the way of man than woman. Yes, our princess Liz was a tomboy. No more chortling. As I was saying, the farmer didn’t make any acquaintances in Ravendale, so plenty of gossip arose about him and his wild daughter. You’ll learn what they said about her in due time, child, do you want me to finish before bed? So, it was when she was thirteen that her story begins.

“Where do the unicorns now roam? What happened to all the fairy folk?” or “Who lead the battle against the demons? Was it a rebel succubus?” Quite the inquisitive gel. Everyone in the town thought her quite curious – and demented. Of course, that was before it happened. Why, you should know what it was, it’s been in every history book written since it happened!

Oh, children these days. You’ve already forgotten that story? Well, the sun’s just gone down and the fire is raging, I do believe I have time to tell it again tonight before bed. However, I’ll start at the beginning this time around and tell you what the books don’t say – about the beginnings of Liz Bet, that little girl. Ah, now you remember who I’m talking about, eh? Of course you would, we’re heading to her castle. We should be there in a couple of days. Now, no more questions, gather closely and let me recount my journey with our princess.

Well, rewrote the negative first chapter, will post up next chapter tomorrow when I’m done with it. I was thinking of writing this in the vein of Lewis Carrol or maybe Terry Pratchett. We shall see, teehee!

“Where did all the fairies and unicorns go?” or “Who lead the battle against the succubi and demons?” Quite the inquisitive gel. Everyone thought her quite curious. And demented. That was, of course, before it happened. Why, you should know what it was, it’s been written in every history book written since it happened!

Oh, children these days. You’ve forgotten the story already? Well, the sun’s gone down, and the fire is still raging. I do believe we have time for a bedtime story before bed. Gather closer children, and I’ll tell you the story of Liz, that little girl. Ah, you know who I’m talking about now, eh? Of course, you’d remember her name, we’re going to her castle tomorrow. Now, no more questions, let’s see if I remember my journey with her.

Current Kong room is telling me to write a story about “fairies and princesses and unicorns” and “succucbi and demons.” Let’s see how far I go.

Sol beats down from his throne
as all the crows and ravens dance;
wondrous revelry in skies above
for the feast that’s to come.

Down below men don their dress
for festivities soon commence.
They greet another ‘fore the dance,
with hesitation halting their advance.

Who’ll lead the dance?
Beating out a jaunty tune
the drums beckon them, begin!
Yet they remain still.

So the drums stop. Silence deafens.
Carried by wind, shouts are heard:
Caelum denique! Allahu Akbar!
And thus begins the dance.