The only point at which I think I will ever tryhard in this thread is when anyone makes the subject of the thread me being a mod.
League of Wretched's
Manliest among all men in all of Smashboards, Wretched sits atop his throne as king of Dumba**ia. A warrior at heart, he has fought tirelessy to bring justice to all those that threaten the peace of Smashboards, be it by the word of his nation or the tip of his trusted lance, Banner.
His appearance can not be described with words for all fail to capture his manly likeness:
“Bring out, the Royal C***sucker!” Shouted Wretched to his royal guards.
“Yes, your Majesty. Royal C***sucker, Generic User, come forth!”
“Yessss, my massster,” Replies Generic User:
as he hunches toward the throne and immediately proceeds to suck Wretched off. “Will you make me a moderator for this?” asked Generic User.
“No.”
“I suck you off anyway,” said Generic User as he used his hands to report people for having signatures larger than their posts.
Some time passed before Wretched finally nutted. It was a glorious nut that only the Exemplar of Dumba**ia could achieve, engulfing the entire room in his white hammer. He took no pleasure from it. His face, as if of stone, revealed only ambivalance:
His task finished, Generic User skipped away excitedly, believing he was a shoe-in for Administrator, blissfully unaware of the man garbed in foreign attire walking past him.
“Halt!” Shouted the guards as they crossed their white Halberds (they only had level 15 Attack) in front of the foreigner, “What is your business with the King of Dumba**ia?” The man did not speak as his eyes met theirs and they collapsed before him, clearing his path. Wretched stepped from his throne to meet the man, “Foreigner! What business do you have here and what have you done to my men?”
“They have merely seen what I have seen and you too will see,” replied the man as his eyes locked with Wretched's. Suddenly, the world around Wretched vanished and was replaced with the malefic visions of a Smashboards engulfed in chaos. A scorched wasteland, devoid of all life. “Hark, demon! What sorcery is this?” Return me to my throne and explain yourself!” Shouted Wretched.
“As you wish, Your Majesty.” And Wretched was returned to his realm. The man continued, “This is the fate of your world, ruled by the wicked and disfigured by flaming.”
“And you have come to threaten me?”
“No. I have come to warn you. This fate is but one of many and only you may change the world's destiny. There lies a group of wicked men, evil beyond comprehension, to the west in Y.L.Y.L (pronounced While-While). They are truly cruel men who have done incredibly evil tasks like censor dodging, light flaming, and mentioning that they have been infracted. Even now, their power grows and soon they will be powerful enough to destroy the Smashboards Global Rules.”
“How can I stop them?”
“Journey to the realm of the Y.L.Y.L West and search for the man you most suspect.”
“And how may I trust you? This may well be a ploy for you to attack Dumba**ia in my absence.”
The man only smiled and turned away for his departure.
“If you will not answer my question then at least answer me this: What is your name?”
The man turned back to Wretched, “I am called many things, but you may know me as, Exarch”:
As the man left, he farted, twice; the first, loud and strong, the second, soft, but very clear.
Seeking to end this affair as soon as possible, Wretched quickly gathered the supplies he would need for his journey: His trusted lance, Banner, Warmog's Armor, and 500 septillian of his greatest sperms to accompany his balls. He left no explanation to his subjects, only stating that he was going to find “atonement” when he departed (Zio was confident that a moderator leaving meant that he was going to be one himself, LOL).
Weeks later, Wretched finally arrived to the desert town of Y.L.Y.L. It was a barren region, the ground cracked, starved for water, lapping desperately at the sweat dripping from Wretched. The sun harshly glared at the town as if it sincerely wanted the town to melt away and the heat of the air would distort one's vision easily. Wretched hastily made his way to a nearby saloon to escape the sun and relished in the cool atmosphere. The locals within, however, did not relish in Wretched's presence. They silently eyed Wretched as he made his way to the bartender and sat at one of the stools.
“Howdy to you, stranger,” greeted the bartender, “It's not often we get outsiders in our humble town of Y.L.Y.L.”
“Glass of water.”
“Glass of water, coming right up.” After a couple seconds the bartender passed Wretched his glass and another man took the seat next to him.
“Stranger, I don't think you belong in these parts,” he said.
“Is that a threat?” asked Wretched.
“I reckon it is.” A brief pause. The saloon still silent as the man seated next to Wretched took a sip from his drink. Suddenly, he lunged at Wretched, head-first, but Wretched managed to sidestep his bull-rush and pounded at his back forcefully with the butt of his lance while sweeping at his feet. The man staggered forward and turned around once more to pulverize his foe, but he was forced to relent when he discovered Banner's point at the tip of his throat. He snarled angrily, “You have no idea what you're up against.”
Wretched replied, “I have an idea,” as he pressed slightly into the man's neck and then pulled away. Defeated, the man fled, but not before shouting one final threat, “You should not have spared me, stranger! I am Mike_G of the Y.L.E Coyotes:
and we will find you!”
“And I will be waiting!” replied Wretched as he returned to his seat.
The bartender nervously asked Wretched, “Stranger, do you know what you've gotten yourself into?”
“No, and it worries me not.”
“It should, stranger. The Y.L.E Coyotes are the rootinest tootinest gang in the west and they've ruled this town since its creation. Some even say they've got supernatural powers. If I were you I'd hightail it out of here and pray they don't find me.”
Wretched took another sip from his drink. “I can not leave. Not until I find the man I most suspect.”
The bartender refilled Wretched's glass as he spoke, “The man you most suspect is probably Suspect.”
“Yes, I know the man I suspect is suspect.”
“No! I'm saying the name of the suspect is Suspect!”
“Yes! I know the suspect's name must be very suspect, but I still do not know who he is.”
“No! I'm trying to tell you the identity of the suspect is Suspect!”
“Yes! I know he must look suspect, but I know not what he looks like!”
“THIS IS THE GUY YOU SUSPECT!!” yelled the bartender as he pulled out a photograph.
Wretched's eyes widened when he saw who the suspect was. Somehow, he knew that this was the man the seer had warned him of. “Where may I find him?”
A voice behind Wretched confidently replied, “Right here.”
Wretched bolted to his feet and readied his lance for battle.
“Calm yourself,
boy.” said the man in his commanding voice, as if he, too, were of royal blood. “I have not come here to fight you, though I know your purpose for coming to my town.”
Wretched did not acquiesce. The man smiled, “Wise of you to be on your guard. I would have slain you where you stand had you let down your lance.”
Wretched slid his foot back, readying himself to lunge at the man. Suspect bellowed a deep, echoing laugh, “Do you really wish to involve these people in your thirst for blood?”
Wretched did not change his stance and stared at Suspect for some time. He did not want this town's residents in harm's way, but he felt that if he took his eyes off Suspect he would be slain on the spot. He tightened his grip on Banner, “No.”
“Good. I've only come to offer you one thing anyway. You see, I've grown tired of the rules of this world. This whole... living thing is... highly overrated. I'm going to cast the laws of the universe aside and alter it as I see fit. Everyone will have their wishes granted by my strength: Eternal life, world peace, unlimited power... everything. Can you understand what I desire? Unlimited freedom; freedom from everything and I want you to be a part of it. Shed your mortal being and let your soul serve me in my quest for power.”
There was no hesitation for Wretched. He could not let this evil stand. His just blood flowing through his veins compelled him, “To deny this world is to deny Dumba**ia. I refuse the words from your wicked tongue. Now, fetch the rest of your team. I'll wait.”
Suspect bared his fangs as he smiled, “A pity. We shall meet again in one hour in the town square. Farewell, stranger.” As Suspect left, he farted, twice; the first, loud and strong, the second, soft, but very clear.
“What are you going to do?” asked the bartender.
“I'm going to stay and fight.”
“You have a lot to lose if you stay, stranger.”
“I'll lose a lot more if I leave.”
The bartender sighed, knowing that the stranger's mind was already made up. “If you do manage to defeat Suspect and his men, I'll ask you to come back here and take me with you to your homeland. I've heard tales of Dumba**ia as a child and I've always dreamed to see it.”
Wretched smiled at the man's request and asked, “What is your name?”
“My name is Xif, Xif Zhao:
“Xif Zhao, I will win, and I will take you with me to Dumba**ia. I shall not falter.”
As Wretched left the saloon, he farted, twice; the first, loud and strong, the second, soft, but very clear.
“For your sake, I hope you do not, stranger.”
At the hour's passing, Wretched and Suspect's men gathered in the town square, but Suspect was nowhere in sight.
“Where is your leader?” shouted Wretched to the men.
They all laughed spitefully in response. There were three of them. Each of whom's bodies reflected how evil they were. Their sins obvious to Wretched, like posting funny pictures or posting youtube videos in a thread that didn't really specify they weren't allowed. They will receive judgment. These men were very prideful and each introduced themselves to Wretched.
“I am Mike_G and you're life is about to experience a load of
bull!”
“I am Jane and you're about to get
rocked!”
“I am Mc-killa and you're about to experience a
whale of a problem!”
Wretched let out a long, exasperated sigh. “THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE MC-KILLA!”
The rat responded, “NEITHER DOES YOUR FACE!” He then shouted something like he was sneezing that can only be interpreted as his catch phrase, “Muffin top!”
Jane shouted to Wretched, “Our boss don't think you can handle him, let alone us. You could say that this approach is a lot
boulder.”
Mike_G followed up, “Yeah, and it looks like the
steaks are pretty high.”
Mc-killa continued, “Yeah, your pain is gonna be un
bearable!”
This time, Jane and Mike_G sighed and buried their faces in their hands, “Mc-killa, shut up.”
“Muffin top!”
The time for talk was over and Wretched was infuriated at Suspect's cowardice. He charged at the group of men with his lance readied. Mike_G reacted first and bull-rushed, head-first at Wretched, but Wretched sidestepped the behemoth and used his feet to bound off Mike_G's rear as he continued his assault. Jane reacted next by raising his monstrous hands for a ground slam. Wretched easily avoided and used his momentum to do a leaping kick into Jane's chest. As the man doubled over, Wretched quickly turned to Mc-killa and slashed across his chest with his lance. Aware that he was in a bad position, surrounded by the three men, Wretched quickly dashed past the incapacitated Mc-killa to create some distance and reset the situation, but the prideful men were enraged by Wretched's surprise attack and gave chase. Jane was the first to recover and speared forward with an attack of unstoppable force and slammed into Wretched's lower body and threw him airborne. Taking advantage of Wretched's weakened state, Mc-killa fired a bolt from his crossbow to slay him, but the Exemplar of Dumba**ia's strength was so great that he recovered enough from Jane's blow in time to not only dodge the missile, but catch it as well. Wretched was painfully reunited with the ground, but he dared not falter as he rolled to distribute the impact toward Mike_G and quickly rose to his feet to impale Mc-killa's bolt through the bull's throat and kicked the snarling beast away. With great speed, Wretched quickly turned to the other nearby men and, with his lance, Banner, slashed with unrivaled speed at them, forcing them backwards until the bulky giant, Jane, lost his footing and fell to his back, in response to which, Wretched banned Jane in the chest with such impact that the ground around them indented. His allies, slain, Mc-killa trembled as he stumbled backwards and clumsily fired at the slowly advancing Wretched, with each bolt missing terribly until, finally, he was out of ammo. He cast his crossbow to the ground and let out an impassioned roar, “AAAHHHH, I WILL NOT RUN AWAY!” As he desperately charged at Wretched. Wretched replied to Mc-killa's cry with the spear of his lance and banned him upwards through his chest. The desperate rat flailed angrily, hoping to strike his enemy with his final spite, but was unable to reach the king and soon ended his assault, dead. Wretched freed his spear from flesh and turned to see the state of his other enemies. Jane and Mc-killa were banned, but Mike_G still struggled to his feet. Mike_G clutched at his throat with his hands as blood ebbed through the gaps in his fingers and looked in horror at his fallen comrades, tears welled in his eyes. The bullish man attempted, one last time, to gore his foe, but Wretched could not fail and he crouched underneath the horns and banned Mike_G.
Wretched felt remorse for the men he had slain. They had all fought as true warriors and died honorably. He prayed, though they may be in the bottom tier of the afterlife for now, that they will be redeemed to top tier (though Mc-killa will only be mid-tier at best because he tends to post terribly unfunny pictures). “Foul being, Suspect!” he shouted, “Reveal yourself! I have defeated your warriors! Reveal yourself so that we may finally end this mockery!” The bodies of the defeated men disintigrated to particles and floated to the sky and coalesced, eventually forming Suspect. “You are too late,
boy.” he said as he drifted slowly downward. “I had thought an hour would be enough, but my men have bought me the final moments I needed to achieve the strength to change this world.”
Wretched barked angrily, “Your power is nothing!”
“My power is absolute.”
“I shall defeat you!”
“We shall see.”
The ground around the two trembled and rose. The earth shaking as walls formed and towered above the two and met, forming an arena. “This is the Cataclysm,” explained Wretched. “A magic arena granted to those of royal blood in Dumba**ia. There is no escape until its bloodlust is appeased. Only one of us will leave alive.”
“As it should be,” replied Suspect.
Suspect was the first to strike. He swung his mace sideways unbelievably fast at Wretched, who jumped back enough to avoid the brunt of the massive weapon, but one of the spikes of the mace cut a gash across his chest and Wretched staggered. Suspect followed the momentum of his swing and rounded the mace around his body to quickly strike again, attempting to crush Wretched into the ground. Wretched juked to the right to dodge the weapon and maneuvered around Suspect to strike at his back, but suddenly, a mace rose from the ground around Suspect and clocked Wretched, hard, in the chin, its massive weight propelling him back. Wretched was sent rolling backwards into the ground for several meters length, before he managed to reorient himself and struggle back to his feet. His foe's strength was colossal and he could not afford to sustain another blow like that.
“You have no chance, boy. Accept your fate,” taunted Suspect as he rose his hand. Suddenly, another mace rose from the ground to strike Wretched, but this time, he was ready. He curved swiftly past the mace as he ran toward Suspect. Suspect laughed at Wretched's approach and summoned mace after mace to strike at him, but the Dumba**ian continued dodging deftly until, finally, reaching Suspect and slashing twice at his armor with Banner. Large chunks of steel were thrown off from Suspect, revealing slivirs of exposed flesh, but Wretched could not yet strike at them, as Suspect swung his mace once more at Wretched. The Exemplar sprawled to the ground and rolled sideways to avoid Suspect's swing and his underhanded follow-up and rose again with an upward slash across the side of Suspect's armor, tearing a huge chunk of steel off of him and cutting deep into his side up to his armpit. Suspect let out a ferocious roar as he swiped his hand angrily at Wretched. Wretched crossed his arms in front and buried his legs to block the blow, but the herculean strength of Suspect caused Wretched to slide several feet back and shattered his left arm. Without flinching, Wretched continued his assault at Suspect's exposed side and, wielding Banner over his shoulder in his one arm, stabbed into Suspect's ribs. Suspect bellowed an agonized roar, “You think this is enough to defeat me,
boy!? I am power incarnate, I wield the power cosmic itself!” The ground trembled beneath Suspect. Wretched stepped back as shards of the earth around Suspect and the metal shaved from his armor gathered, orbitting around him like speeding bullets. There was no way Wretched could chip away at Suspect in his state and with that molecular shield, he would be shredded before he even got near. Wretched would have to turn to the magic of his Dumba**ian ancestors to defeat this foe.
With stern solemnity, Wretched unclothed himself, and called out to the sky (or rather, the ceiling of the arena), “Hear me, brothers and sisters! Mighty forerunners of Dumba**ia, I need your magic!” The ceiling of the arena opened slightly in response to his appeals. Wretched threw his hand to the sky and cried out once more, “Please help me!” Suddenly, a lightning bolt from the heavens rained down upon Wretched, igniting him. The fire consuming him, he did not scream. It brought no pain as this was surely the power of the Dumba**ian magic at work. It flowed all around him until the magic solidified, its form of a legendary armor.
The two warriors stood motionless, each focusing their power for one, final, decisive strike. His blood boiling with heroic rage, Wretched roared his proud nation's name, emblazoned with all his passion, as he leapt at Suspect with Banner overhead.
“DUMBA**IA!!” His blade would not miss; his body would not fail, his mind would not break; his soul would not falter. Wretched will kill this man. But Suspect's will was just as strong as Wretched's. Wretched will die.
Suspect viciously side-swung his mace with explosive speed at the airborne Wretched and his brutal weapon had hit its mark, making solid impact with Wretched's armored chest and launching him ludicrously far. Wretched crashed, hard, into the ground. He rolled and bounced many times a great distance before finally colliding with Cataclysm's walls. Wretched lay on the ground, his body obliterated, unable to move. He struggled to keep his vision of Suspect. All he could manage was the silhouette of the still-standing Suspect. Suspect rotated to behold his adversary one last time and smiled. He spoke, but Wretched could not make out what he was saying. “Well...it seems... I've been defeated...” as Suspect fell to his knees. His last words whispered, “Father up in 4chan, please forgive me,” as he collapsed. At the very moment Wretched was struck, Wretched had pierced his Banner through Suspect's chest. As Wretched was thrown to Suspect's side, he still found the strength to clutch to his Banner and, upon exiting Suspect's body, the blade sawed through his heart. Wretched couldn't breathe. The impact of Suspect's blow had crushed his lungs. Bloodied and beaten, Wretched shut his eyes and embraced his end as well.
The end
Wretched jerked awake and bolted to his feet. He looked around and saw that he was no longer behind Cataclym's walls. He was no longer behind anything. Nothing was here.
“Calm yourself, my child. Your battle is over,” said an indistinct voice, “You have won.” A man stepped toward Wretched from the nothingness until he was face-to-face with him and smiled.
Wretched hesitated, “Am I...?”
“Dead?” interrupted the man, “Funny thing about victories, sometimes you lose at the same time.” He walked along casually and motioned for Wretched to follow with him.
“And Suspect?” Wretched asked.
“His fate was the same as yours.” Wretched let out a sigh of relief as they walked. His people were safe. “I don't rightly like that word, fate,” said the man. “Doesn't really have too much meaning when one with free will can change it so easily. What do you think?”
Wretched hesitated, he wasn't sure what to make of this subject. “I... do not know.”
The two continued their stroll silently for some time before the man spoke again, “Tell me, if you could change your fate, would you?”
Wretched paused to consider the man's question, but answered steadfastly. “I would not. I saved my world and my people. Ours is but to do and die.”
“What if you didn't die?”
Yet another enigmatic question that Wretched was unsure of how to answer. “But I am...-”
“Are you?” asked the man.
Perplexed, Wretched asked, “Who are you?”
“I am called many things. People have labelled me under many alternate accounts. Some have called me Azua or StrongBad. Some have even called me SasukeBowser, but you may probably recognize me best as Renth.” Wretched was taken aback by what the man had said. Wretched was face-to-face with his god. The man ceased his walk and turned to face Wretched, still smiling. “Well?” he asked.
Wretched considered Renth's inquiry. “I still have so much more that I could do.”
The man replied with agreement, “You do.”
“I still want to protect my people.”
“You may.”
“What if I didn't have to die?”
“What if...?”
The void around Wretched was being steadily replaced with visions of his mortal world, the desert sand forming underneath him, the sky, above him. He could feel himself returning to his realm.
With a passionate roar, Wretched asked once more, “What if I wanted to live!?”
“You shall.”
Wretched gasped desperately for air, his lungs expanding within his chest and rolled to his stomach. He pressed his right arm to the ground and pushed himself to his knees. Breathing laboriously, Wretched worked one leg forward while straightening the other and forced himself to stand as he slowly inched his way to the Y.L.Y.L. Saloon.
Epilogue
“Bring out, the Royal C***sucker!” Shouted Wretched to his royal guards.
“Yes, your Majesty. Royal C***sucker, Generic User, come forth!” No one came (lolsexjoke). The guards gave their command once more, “Royal C***sucker, Generic User, come forth!” Still no one came.
“It does not matter,” said Wretched. “I have found someone else with whom I actually enjoy being with,” and he laughed heartily.
Xif Zhao laughed heartily with him, “Oh, you.” And they totally 69'd each other and nutted all over the room.
“Sire,” requested one of the royal guards.
“Yes?” replied Wretched.
“How is it that you release so much man-naise?”
“Simple,” replied Wretched, “Ihavespaceballs.”
MeanY.L. Generic User was sucking someone off in a dark alleyway. “You'll make me a moderator for this, right, Random Admin?” asked Generic User.
The Admin smiled and dryly replied, “No.”
“I suck you off anyway.”
