TIME TO GO
EYE OF ARGON, MANDER STYLE. Test run for clarity.
Mander is not responsible for any brain tumors which result from this reading.
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The weather beaten trail wound ahead into the dust racked climes of the baren land which dominates large portions of the Norgolian empire. Age worn hoof prints smothered by the sifting sands of time shone dully against the dust splattered crust of earth. The tireless sun cast its parching rays of incandescense from overhead, half way through its daily revolution. Small rodents scampered about, occupying themselves in the daily accomplishments of their dismal lives. Dust sprayed over three heaving mounts in blinding clouds, while they bore the burdonsome cargoes of their struggling overseers.
"Shone dully"? Is dully even a word? "Parching rays of incandescence?"
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"Prepare to embrace your creators in the stygian haunts of hell, barbarian", gasped the first soldier.
And apparently these parching rays of incandescence are illuminating a battle of Shakespearian actors, because there is no excuse for what that guy just said.
At least his opponent is a barbarian, so the next line should be akin to "GROGLAR WANT RAPE"
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"Only after you have facebattled the fleeting stead of death, wretch!" returned Grignr.
This is the first line of a barbarian. Tell me, how does a steed fleet?
At least his name is decent. Grignr is a solid barbarian name.
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A sweeping blade of flashing steel riveted from the massive barbarians hide enameled shield as his rippling right arm thrust forth, sending a steel shod blade to the hilt into the soldiers vital organs. The disemboweled mercenary crumpled from his saddle and sank to the clouded sward, sprinkling the parched dust with crimson droplets of escaping life fluid.
From the first sentence, we can assume that Grignr's shield contains a switchblade, and that it is held together by teeth.
Also he has NOODLE ARMS
Unfortunately he only hit the soldier in the Life Fluid Sack. It's a good thing he's not bleeding!
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The enthused barbarian swilveled about, his shock of fiery red hair tossing robustly in the humid air currents as he faced the attack of the defeated soldier's fellow in arms.
You can tell Grignr is a true man, because even his HAIR is robust.
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"daisies you, barbarian" Shrieked the soldier as he observed his comrade in death.
A gleaming scimitar smote a heavy blow against the renegade's spiked helmet, bringing a heavy cloud over the Ecordian's misting brain. Shaking off the effects of the pounding blow to his head, Grignr brought down his scarlet streaked edge against the soldier's crudely forged hauberk, clanging harmlessly to the left side of his opponent. The soldier's stead whinnied as he directed the horse back from the driving blade of the barbarian. Grignr leashed his mount forward as the hoarsely piercing battle cry of his wilderness bred race resounded from his grinding lungs. A twirling blade bounced harmlessly from the mighty thief's buckler as his rolling right arm cleft upward, sending a foot of blinding steel ripping through the Simarian's exposed gullet. A gasping gurgle from the soldier's writhing mouth as he tumbled to the golden sand at his feet, and wormed agonizingly in his death bed.
Honestly what the hell.
Who exactly is doing the hoarsely piercing cry, Grignr or the Horse he is apparently riding? Also, they are apparently in the empire of Norgol, Grignr is an Ecordian, and the people he's fighting are Simarian's. How this interracial life-fluid orgy got organized, no one knows.
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Grignr's emerald green orbs glared lustfully at the wallowing soldier struggling before his chestnut swirled mount. His scowling voice reverberated over the dying form in a tone of mocking mirth.
I think Grignr intends to molest this man AS HE IS DYING
WHAT A MAN
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"You city bred dogs should learn not to antagonize your better." Reining his weary mount ahead, grignr resumed his journey to the Noregolian city of Gorzam, hoping to discover wine, women, and adventure to boil the wild blood coarsing through his savage veins.
Here we go! Grignr was here for bitches and booze all along. Way to buzzkill, soldiers.
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The trek to Gorzom was forced upon Grignr when the soldiers of Crin were leashed upon him by a faithless concubine he had wooed. His scandalous activities throughout the Simarian city had unleashed throngs of havoc and uproar among it's refined patricians, leading them to tack a heavy reward over his head.
Further explanation of that inter-racial orgy of violence.
Grignr couldn't keep it in his undoubtedly bear-furred loincloth long enough to recognize a bitch when he saw one. And now he's a MAN ON THE RUN WITH NOTHING TO LOSE
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He had barely managed to escape through the back entrance of the inn he had been guzzling in, as a squad of soldiers tounced upon him. After spilling a spout of blood from the leader of the mercenaries as he dismembered one of the officer's arms, he retreated to his mount to make his way towards Gorzom, rumoured to contain hoards of plunder, and many young wenches for any man who has the backbone to wrest them away.
But we have priorities here, namely rape and plunder, true barbarian stuff, but only if you have the backbone. Given Grignr's habits I'd say he has several, which he uses ironically as backscratchers.
SO COMES THE ENDING CONCLUSION OF THE TEXT-BOUND NOVEL "EYE OF ARGON"'S PREEMINENT AND FIRST CHAPTER
This is entirely experimental and I will probably find a different thing to spork later!
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