Scrolls of Lore Forums  

Go Back   Scrolls of Lore Forums > WarCraft Discussion > WarCraft Fan Works

Reply
 
Thread Tools Display Modes
  #1  
Old 01-29-2014, 08:49 PM
Revenant Revenant is offline

Revenant - Moderator
Revenant's Avatar
Join Date: Sep 2009
Posts: 9,278

Default Chronicles of Garithos II

An old thread called Brain of G: Serial Fanfic died a while ago, and I want to try again.

The rules:

Quote:
Originally Posted by Cantus View Post
First of all, the following is pure fanwank, and as such treat pretty much everything in it as unsourced BS. That aside, Mark and Lon's idea of taking a character and allowing multiple authors to have at it got me thinking about this as a potentially serial joke fiction about Garithos after he was killed by Sylvanas. Each author starts from the previous' end point, until we have the Chronicles of Garithos (temporary name for all the story arcs) end in some random spectacular fashion with previous authors collaborating on how we'll finish the series. Post any thoughts you have while I work on getting the introduction/rebirth of Garithos written this weekend.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Cantus View Post
Each arc (which we'll arbitrarily call 4 -10 decently long posts) is open to any author so long as they do enough editing/storyboarding that it's readable, semi-logical, and progresses the story (no holiday editions for now). Just line up and I'll make a list of willing authors, but remember that you need to do this within a reasonable time limit so the next author can get their arc going. If an author neglects finishing their arc after 1-2 months than we'll just jump to the next person's. Start brainstorming!

I'll get things going with a short prologue that brings Garithos back into the unliving side of things and the next artist can go from there. The current lineup (unless people decline) is Wulf, Kerrah, Mark (he pm'd me after I posted this) and then Xie. We're going to start the timeline of this just before the opening events of WotLK so there's less of an unknown factor to the goings on of the world.

Alright, the next person can take it away. Have fun, make shit up, and remember, it doesn't matter the body (if any) you're working with a "Idiot Sevant Racist Savior" douchebag extraordinaire.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Cantus View Post
I was intending on each author getting a short story in there so things flowed a bit...but that was funny as hell. So I guess the new paradigm is just post when it feels appropriate/is edited decently.
The story so far:

Quote:
Originally Posted by Cantus View Post
The Brain of G: Prologue

There comes a time in every Forsaken's life when they finally find peace in the Undercity, usually just after their nose rots off and they stop feeling so picky about decomposing meat, but its an important turning point none the less. Unfortunately for Varnel, the loss of his nose also coincided with a severe ooze accident in which the vast majority of his brain also disappeared, leaving him happily slack jawed and drooling for the rest of his life. The fact that his jaw was already completely unhinged made this an even more awkward affair that can only be described as "gruesome in its hilarity" by several of the Abominations he passed on his way to work each day. Despite the objection of the vast majority of the Royal Apothecary Society, who hated wasting good test subjects, it was decided that Varnel still had just enough of a soul left to putter about the lab as the Society's First Internal Dispatch Officer, otherwise affectionately known as Fido. Of course the poor corpse was too stupid at this point to understand the humor of his new pseudonym, but no one had the heart to disturb the ever present tensing of muscles that implied the existence of a peaceful grin. So Varnel shuffled from storage room to lab bench and back gathering whatever objects his master's decreed appear before them. Thus it was that, in the midst of the Midsummer's Fire Festival, Varnel was given an extremely unimportant task and changed his own history forever.

More to the point, Apothecary Vallia had tasked her much disfigured friend with dragging out a new brain for implantation into the next test subject. The subject in question was actually just a mess of Dwarf and Elven parts topped off by a beautifully shrunken Troll's head all haphazardly stitched together. Vallia's mistake however was in forgetting to write down the name of her desired part, the aptly titled "Pissed off Gnome-Gnoll hybrid" brain she had special ordered from Felwood. So Varnel, forgetful as anyone would be with ooze for an upper cortex, remembered only that the jar in question had a G in the name. As always happens in these situations, uncertainty and a rapidly declining attention span brought him to the wrong subject, who also just so happened to be on a dusty pedestal surrounded by several vile smelling torches and a large bronze plaque reading "Here rests the brain of Garithos, Idiot Savant and Racist Savior to the Forsaken." Of course the jar itself was etched only with Garithos' name in it so Varnel, being too absent minded to read the plaque, simply plucked the brain from its jar and limped back to his mistress' work bench. Later that day Varnel was caught trying to wash his pet rat in the very same jar, which he'd dubbed "Nomh's shiny soap room," and subsequently eaten by the Abominations for misplacing Garithos' brain. Nomh, the rat, took refuge in Vallia's macabre experiment and had just settled into the patched up gut of the Troll headed hybrid when Vallia stuffed the wrong brain into the wrong body and pulled the unlife giving switch...
Quote:
Originally Posted by Mark_Romaneck View Post
Electricity was the base for this process of unlife to begin! Where it came from who knew maybe there was a storm outside, or mayhap they had a shaman somewhere up there throwing light bolts every now and then but the case was that the re-animating process always had its dose of electricity in good supply.

The case nevertheless was that the abomination was now filled with life trough means that were not really clear at all since it was not very explored if it was powered by necromantic power or by science or a strange mix of both.

The last thing he could remember was a swarm of ghouls, and not two or three but rather an obscene amount of ghouls that where rather an overkill since it generally only took one to eat a body and now here they be stripping him of his black shell and eating the muscles beneath the chainmail and this was the last thing that his mind was able to recall.

And now life circled trough his limbs again, even tough they where not his and in a way they could be classified under his possession and at the same time they could not which made one wonder how law was upheld in the undercity when it came to the body.

He look around with his rotten eyes the sight provided by these was nowhere near the quality of the pair he had in his good days of a beating hearth, after a quick look up an urge to perform an activity he was particularly fond of invaded him.

Yes this urge was the one to shout, although in this case it was more of a cry of fear

“MOTHER OF TERENAS!” a shout that sounded had the softness of a elven vocal cords but the empowerment of one and a half dwarven lungs behind it traveled trough he undercity which made more than one of its inhabitants turn towards the source and if they had to luck to still have working eyebrows, subsequently rise it marking their doubt and surprise.

He struggled to free himself from the leather bands that bind him to the table as Vallia wondered how a Gnome and a Gnoll would know Terenas, He was a popular king and more so amongst the dwellers of the undercity because some looked up to him as the ideal king of ages past which tragedy was so relatable to all the forsaken.

“Varnel are you certain you brought me the right one?” as she turned to the abomination which after a careful and utmost contemplation of the possible reasons and motivations behind said statement gave a reply full of conviction that was certain to shut the confusion “We don’t wait”

Vallia´s Claw made a movement from below to above like a bird flying straight against a glass window and crashing straight on, yes she took her claw to her head as she said “Why did I had to be assisted by this complete fool” effectively performing what could only be properly called a faceclawm.

Luckily for him the person who had strapped his current body together had done a horrible job by leaving some bones sticking out trough the flesh right at the left elbow that came particularly handy at setting himself (herself now?) free.

Vallia noticed and then she…
Quote:
Originally Posted by Revenant View Post
...fell in love. The experimental abomination that was now for all intents and purposes Garithos just happened to have every aphrodisiac and pheromone gland from every species Vallia could find (due to boredom on her part). It was enough to stir the pile of green goo that was her heart. She searched her black and rotting soul, and then realized what had happened to her. She, like most Forsaken, had thought that such emotions were lost forever.

As she lay sprawled on the floor, overcome with love, Garithos decided to use this and make a run for it. Panicking and trying to decide what to do with his newly found freedom, he began to barrel through the Undercity. Nomh, along for the ride, was nomh nomh nomhing on Garithos' upper large intestines, too concerned with his meal to care about what was going on around him.

"What is this place?! Why are there so many zombies?!" Garithos screamed in his recently transplanted mind. "And why were these disgusting, unhuman THINGS looking at him in an almost... lustful gaze?" He felt his face. He had tusks. He was... unclean and just plain wrong. He was no longer of the perfect race.

Vallia stood and regained her composition. Now free of Garithos' pheromones, she realized the gravity of the situation: The most racist bastard in all of Azeroth's history (at least the history that she cared about) was loose and running around the Undercity. More importantly, he was running around in her experiment. He had to be stopped at all costs.

Meanwhile, every rotting denizen of the Undercity, regardless of former gender, was attempting to hump this beautiful, festering corpse of a man (woman?). Garithos, too concerned with his own survival and fear to care that he had become that which he hated most, saw what looked like an elevator leading upwards.

Garithos ran towards it and...
Quote:
Originally Posted by Exxile87 View Post
...it closed on him.


"What in the 12 Halls of Lordaeron Castle is going on here?" Garithos' asked himself for perhaps the thousandth time. "I must try to remember what happened to me. Oh hells, my head!" he began to convulse in pain.

It was at about the time his racking pains ceased that the elevator opened again. He barely had time step in and regain his balance when it shot upward and stopped. Garithos ran through the exit, turning to see the floor drop to the ground again.

"This is crazy! Madness!" he yelled.

"Madness? THIS...IS...THE UNDERCITY!"

Garithos wheeled about, ready to face the source of this voice. Standing before him was an undead, better preserved than any he'd seen before. In fact, the only sign of this elf's undead state was the very green shade of his skin.

"You're to be killed, cur. Your end shall be spoken of in whispers for generations and generations to come. You shall fall to the might of Cul'len! I will...oooooooh, that's nice...."

Garithos was dumbstruck. What was it with all these undead and the lust they all looked upon him with?

"I am Garithos, foul creature. None shall harm me, for I have the might of Humanity and the power of Man!"

"Gracious, I could never harm you. I don't want to see you hurt at all. Come away with me, my sweet, rotten love. If I had a beating heart, you would hear it resounding with your name. Be mine, sweet Garithos!"

"What in the Three Rings of Arthas' Playroom is going on?" Garithos' head was swirling. Did this zombie just confess love for him?

Cul'len ran his fingers through his hair. "This way, my love. I shall guide you to safety. The streets of Silvermoon await!"

And Cul'len took Garithos by the hand and whisked him away towards the outer courtyard, and up a small flight of stairs into a mostly empty room. At the far end stood a red orb of translocation.

"We must hurry. They will soon find us. Perhaps a kiss for luck?" Cul'len eyed Garithos hungrily.

Garithos withdrew quickly. "What in the Porcelain Bowl of Calia's Toilet is going on here?"

Cul'len smiled, and moved his hand toward Garithos' heart. "It lies quiet, as does mine. Surely this is love!" With his free hand, Cul'len activated the Orb. In a flash, the two were pulled into Silvemoon City.

...
__________________
^Ignored again.

Okay. It is cool.

Quote:
Originally Posted by Sonneillon View Post
It'd be nice if they actually finally gave us things they cut or under utilized 10 years ago.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Darkphoenix View Post
Ten.

Years.
Reply With Quote
  #2  
Old 02-01-2014, 10:32 PM
Anansi Anansi is offline

Master Worldbuilder
Anansi's Avatar
Join Date: Sep 2012
Location: A Dying World
Posts: 18,109

Orb of Venom

I'll take the case!

Just not right now.
__________________
Quote:
Originally Posted by SmokeBlader View Post
And the HRE was a meme that went too far.
Quote:
Originally Posted by PajamaSalad View Post
You are pretty cool for being one of the bad guys.
Quote:
Originally Posted by BaronGrackle View Post
I was probably just upset about the Horde fleet in the Second War.
Reply With Quote
Reply

Tags
brilliant ideas, creative

Thread Tools
Display Modes

Posting Rules
You may not post new threads
You may not post replies
You may not post attachments
You may not edit your posts

BB code is On
Smilies are On
[IMG] code is On
HTML code is Off

Forum Jump


All times are GMT -7. The time now is 05:04 PM.


Powered by vBulletin® Version 3.8.11
Copyright ©2000 - 2019, vBulletin Solutions Inc.