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3 yrs ago
Current Goodbye Miura. One of my favorite fantasy authors of all time has gone too soon.
13 likes
4 yrs ago
Don't forget, they made another new hero named Screentime. A meme loving superhero who got his powers from exposure to internet gas. He has the ability to basically be a smart phone.
4 likes
4 yrs ago
Sometimes I open up a new tab on my browser and I forget what I intended to do with it... What am I doing here again?
6 likes
4 yrs ago
When did I do that?
7 likes
5 yrs ago
Whenever you're feeling down, just remember that this man is cheering you on: youtu.be/KxGRhd_iWuE
2 likes

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Most Recent Posts

"73, I want you to know-" Tristan began to say before going into a fit of coughing. He had never tried a cigar before, but he had a feeling that the pain he felt while trying to breath was similar to what a hard smoker would feel after years of doing nothing but. "If I don't make it, you need to know this," he struggled to say, lifting his hand into the air as she continued to carry him away from the angry mob.

As if for dramatic tension, the hero would find himself incapable of continuing his message to the demon princess, not until Charlotte found herself able to ask him what his important message was. "I want you to know... that you are... without a doubt... THE ABSOLUTE WORST GODDAMN COMPANION I'VE EVER HAD THE MISFORTUNE OF PARTYING UP WITH!" he shouted, the immense anger he felt toward the girl temporarily overriding the immense pain he felt from trying to speak. Though his criticism would immediately be followed by more coughing. As soon as he was able to, he promised himself that this fiery redhead would receive a hard thwack to the back of the head for all the trouble she had caused him.

Shifting to his side to look behind Charlotte, he chose to acknowledge the presence of their new party member. "So what's your story, slime? Were you shanghaied into having to work for this airhead as well?" Tristan asked C-3, unaware that the small, gelatinous girl identified herself as a the great beasts of calamity that rules the skies of many a fantasy world. Not that he cared. It would only solidify her position as the 51st companion he'd met to have such a wish.
Log Horizon

"Sidekicks like you are proof that God hates main characters like me," Tristan muttered, very much unamused towards the demon princess' comment. After all, with how much he had already dealt with through the curse that he called a life, who could a higher being possibly have any more contempt for than him? He didn't see anyone else having to live through an endless existence of the same monotonous adventure day-in and day-out.

As Charlotte did what he said though, raising her hand and summoning forth her own inner fire to smite the weak creatures around him, Tristan moved to a nearby tree to lean against its trunk and watch the display of power. He watched with mild interest as the flames danced around her fingers, like a snake slithering through several obstacles, before coalescing at tip of her index.

Then his vision went white.

When he awoke, his body felt like it was on fire, every inch of him in immense pain. Then he realized that was because he had actually been set ablaze moments ago by the numskull he called a teammate, his entire body covered in burn scars. He'd felt much more intense pain before, but that didn't mean it didn't still hurt. "You absolute idiot," she would hear his dry throat whisper out to her as he lied draped across her arms. "I've been stabbed in the back by a companion before, but you can't tell me that you're so careless to do that accidentally."

Fighting against the pain, the hero would wave his burnt arm in front of his face, trying to swat away the message that had suddenly appeared before his eyes. Level 2! "Stupid interface. I don't care if I leveled up if it means being burnt to a crisp by my partner." It looked like quite the pathetic display as with how weak his injuries had made him and the fact that he hadn't attempted to stand up on his own. She had created this problem, so Charlotte would fix it. Or she could expect this partnership to not be a long lasting one, not with her burning literal bridges.
Some people can have the personality of soggy cardboard, but if they're heroes who can do anything, even that won't keep women away. That was what Tristan had planned to say, thinking back to that time he found himself stuck inside a fantasy world where everyone else seemed capable of noticing the video game elements in their world, even if the elements used didn't make much sense. He found himself thinking that about the majority of worlds he had been to, though that world in particular he disliked more than the others.

Before he could vocalize his thought though, another attack would come towards his new companion, one that would launch the two into the air. "What the hell did you do to be blown up twice in the span of ten minutes?" the hero would ask Charlotte as they plummeted back down to the Earth below. Admittedly, she might not have heard him over how loud the wind blowing past them was.

Eventually though, they would make landfall after crashing through several tree branches and foliage. He could feel a warmth above his head as several strands of his red hair had caught fire, but he didn't seem to care. Until Charlotte put it out herself, he had planned to just let it burn out whenever it did. Having recovered from the slime's attack, he had planned to walk off in a random direction where a town might or might be, but the demonette seemed to intent on taking the lead as she grabbed his hand and pulled him deeper into the forest.

Tristan would look towards Charlotte as she tried to teach him the basics of swinging a sword, though if she paid attention to his blank expression she could have figured out that his mind was somewhere else. By now he had learned how to use just about any weapon someone could think of, so this wasn't even a review, it felt more like an insult. Being forced to start by fighting slimes didn't make that feeling disappear either. "Can't you just burn them all with a fire spell or something so we can move on to something actually somewhat challenging?" the hero asked, cutting an attacking slime in half without even looking in the creature's direction.
As Charlotte gave her big introduction, Tristan completely ignored her and read over the paperwork she had filled out, looking over her answers with those dead, lifeless eyes of his. He hadn't even noticed the mid-boss in the distance crying out her own deceleration of war against him and any that join his party as he made sure to not miss any details. He would hate to assign this girl her designation, only to find she fits better within another category. It would completely throw off his count. Demon Princess who joins the hero to overthrow her parent and will most likely stab me in the back after I defeat him for her because she's otherwise useless in most combat situations? I think that makes her number 73.

Before he could announce the official number he'd be calling her for the rest of their adventuring together, she would ambush him with a sudden surprise hug. While his powers allowed him to avoid serious injury and death like C-3's fireball from earlier, having his air crushed out of his lungs didn't seem to fit under that umbrella. "Hnng," was the sound that escaped his lips as Charlotte began to crush his spine.

Once she had finished showing her appreciation towards him allowing her to join his party, a message appeared before his eyes like some MMO RPG. Dammit. Another fantasy world that relies on video game mechanics. What ever happened to just normal fantasy? It felt like nine-tenths of the worlds I've been to were created by some nerd who can't think of a magic system that isn't based on an RPG they played as a kid. Tristan would attempt to swipe the notification away like some other worlds he'd been to had allowed him to do, but unfortunately it seemed to stay put, leaving him to wait for it to disappear on its own for several agonizing seconds.

"Alright, one last thing before we go though. Please sign this last document," the hero said, holding out a several page long document. If Charlotte attempted to read or skim it, the general gist was that whoever signed their name would be locked into a legally binding contract that they would never, under any circumstances, attempt to start or join a harem that involved Tristan Mallory. He had had enough of those after about ten worlds into his cursed existence.
Not far from where the future Demon King of [World Name] would be enjoying her breakfast, a lone figure would open his eyes in a field of grass. His eyes were devoid of any enthusiasm or passion as he pushed himself up onto his feet, taking a look at the armor and weapons he had spawned into this world with. "Sword." He swung the weapon at the air, the blade whistling as it cut through nothing and doing no damage to anything around it. "Non-magical... Shield." He battered the front of the shield with the blunt end of his sword, the weapons ringing from the impact but doing nothing else spectacular or out of the ordinary. "Also non-magical... Armor." The hero inspected his clothing and shrugged with disinterest. "Starter gear." Finally, he lifted his hand and concentrated, pointing his palm at the nearby treeline. "No powers either." With the inspection finished, he let out a bored sigh. "At least I have clothes this time and not a useless smartphone."

Dragging his feet as he lazily walked across the field, the hero would pass the treeline and head into the forest, wondering to himself who would be the first living being he'd see. A damsel in distress? Some starving wolves? A useless goddess? Maybe all three. That would probably be the twelfth time now, if that were the case. Instead though, the cursed man would see Charlotte and overhear the conversation she was having with herself. Another bored sigh would escape his lips as he considered walking in the other direction. "Let's just get this over with."

Charlotte would hear the sound of metal clicking into place as the hero she had been waiting for seemed to be setting up a portable table right here in the middle of the forest. Upon the table were pens, staplers, and several piles of paperwork that all had been neatly set up to be presentable and pleasing to the eye. "My name is Tristan Mallory and today I will be your world's hero who shall defeat whatever evil is currently threatening it. Please sign here," he told the demoness, holding out an application for her to fill out. "Don't bother giving me your name, I won't bother to remember it. Just tell me your sex, race, age, where you see yourself in five years, and any special abilities you may have."

As he waited for the demoness to give her answer, a ball of flame seemed to somehow track the woman down like a heat-seeking missile. Tristan could see it approaching, but made no effort to try to dodge or block the attack, instead watching with that same neutral expression of his as the spell found its target. Once the flames of the explosion died down, the smoke clearing out from the two's vision, Charlotte would see the immediate area turned black from C-3's fastball special. All except the patch of grass the hero sat at. It stood pristine and untouched, as if unaware of the destruction surrounding him. If your form was turned to ash, please take another from the desk."


Releasing the grasp on his sword's hilt, Cayde gave the woman named Hilde another look over. He knew how skilled the warriors of Niflhelm were and that it was most likely not the best idea to put one's guard down when faced against one, but despite their rumored battle prowess he would suppress the voice in his head that screamed for him to unsheathe his weapon. The nobleman did not stand alone and he had never heard rumors of a single soldier of Niflhelm capable of fighting off dozens single-handed. Even she would have to realize that starting a fight was suicide. That wasn't even taking into consideration her demeanor. He felt that he could take her word that she meant no harm.

"We only crashed here rather recently. I'm doubtful that any of us have seen whoever it is you're looking for, unless she's with us currently. You can check if you like, but-" he had begun to reply to Hilde, doing his best to emulate his uncle's tone of voice when negotiating with the other Zweite Junta members. He would be interrupted though by whatever creature had just attacked the wyvern above their heads, the rabbit running between their feet going completely unnoticed by him. Cayde had fought plenty of monsters and primals both during his time in Eradine's military, but at no point had he fought a creature such as the one that turned wyverns into food.

As it crashed the forest floor, Cayde let out a sigh of disappointment. "I don't suppose that thing happened to land near wherever this medicine woman happens to live, did it?" At this point he knew to always expect the worst in these circumstances.


Despite Ms. Aristeas' rather kind evaluation of their results, Robert was not as happy. Of course, no one in their team was hurt or killed, which was always optimal, but he still felt like they could have done better. No, he could have done better. Everything was going perfectly until he had gotten too far away from the others and almost thrown off the edge of the ship. He was alive only through the support of his comrades, not through his own efforts.

The young student turned to his team leader though to try and read her reaction to the evaluation. He'd been in charge once and he didn't envy his admittedly much more worthy replacement. He still knew how it felt to succeed but still feel there was room for improvement. To do everything you could do right, yet still see nothing but more needing to be fixed. The worst part about being leader though, at least a good one in his opinion, was that you often found fault in your own actions first. Sand struck Robert as the sort of person who'd think the same way. So as she left to return their borrowed weaponry, he began contemplating possible words of encouragement so she knew how glad he was to have her in charge.

Those words would be forgotten though once Sand was back, giving the team her own debriefing, which felt very much targeted at his screw up. Perhaps he was solely in the wrong here. He was, after all, the only one who had needed saving. He had thought he was being cautious like asked and the incident was only caused by bad roll of the dice, but maybe he was the problem. "Sorry, guys," he said, embarrassed.

When the ship landed, Robert did his best to push away the creeping self-doubt and refocus on the objective. Being distracted would only lead to more mistakes, past missions had taught him that. Still, while he certainly looked serious and ready in appearance, he didn't seem to yet notice the odd behavior of the facility's employees. Though perhaps it was better to say lack of behavior as only the one man seemed to be working here for all they knew.


With the fires extinguished and the injured and dying collected, Cayde would volunteer himself to organize their rag tag group and get moving through the forest. Others might have called it leading, but in his own head the military man was purposefully avoiding using such a term. Despite all he'd done today, he was still unsure of how he felt taking command again. In any case, they couldn't stay here. He needed to keep as many of their group alive as he could, so it would be off to this mysterious healer as soon as they were able. They wouldn't be able to bring everything, after all mobility and speed would be their objective here, so the larger and heavier supplies would need to be left behind and hopefully collected later, the biggest of note being the harvin engineer's personal fighter. It was unfortunate to leave such a beauty behind, but there was no way to get it ready for take off and it wouldn't help with transporting everyone either.

While journeying through the unknown wood, the escapees would come across a new face. Being the nephew of a member of the Zweite Junta as well as a commander in Eradine's military, Cayde had quite a bit of knowledge of the other islands, especially those with impressive military capabilities. So seeing the young knight's armor, he recognized its place of origin in a decent amount of time. "What's a soldier of Niflhelm doing so far from home?" he asked Hilde. Or perhaps a better word was interrogated as he kept a hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw from it's scabbard in case of trouble. And one with affiliation to their elite guard judging by the insignia. Now what were they called again?
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