1196: John and the Dragon Rider – Chapters Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, and FourteenPosted: October 4, 2015
We’re back today with four- count ’em, four– chapters of John and the Dragon Rider. And boy, what a ride it’s going to be.
“You do the recap this time. I can’t stomach it.”
Previously, John-117 literally walked out of his brief imprisonment in Uru’baen after unloading a few clips of angst into King Galbatorix, and met up with his pals during yet another firefight. They wandered back to the Varden camp and John had a sparring match with Arya that wasn’t entirely terrible, then the Queen of the Elves made a particularly whiny Voice-Over-Scrying Protocol call and demanded to see her daughter due to the stupid death-and-resurrection bit that happened way back in Chapter 3. It was decided for no good reason that the entire extraterrestrial contingent would escort Arya to Ellesmera to meet with her mom in person as opposed to her just stepping into the FOV of the scrying mirror or something, and after a mild to moderate angst fight Eragon agreed to stay behind while they began their trek across the continent.
“That journey begins in Chapter 11, which is discouragingly titled “Didn’t See That One Coming”.”
Author’s Note: So, blah, blah, blah, John gets rescued, Arya gets hitched (for the second time), and they go on another adventure, hooah! Same old, same old, enjoy.
“That about sums it up, actually. Although I do not think the author quite understands just what ‘hitched’ means in the context of human relationships.”
John looked through his sniper scope to see the tenth Empire scouting party they’ve encountered. Each scouting party only consisted of five people, three swordsmen, one magician, and one horseman.
That is a ridiculous density of spellcasters. And one horseman who I guess is just there to ride out ahead of the footsoldiers and then loop back over and over again?
He saw Thel pull out his beam rifle, they nodded to each other and picked a target. In two seconds flat, the magician’s and the horseman’s head exploded in a bloody fountain of brains and crushed skull as the two took their shots while Arya was up front with her pistol who finished the remaining three with three bullets. Another perfect stealth kill.
“No it isn’t. It’s a very loud series of noises that are (or were) previously unknown to this population, followed by a bloody explosion.”
The soldiers were killed without knowing what happened.
“I suppose there’s nothing particularly wrong with this setup on the level of small-unit tactics, but if the outworlders keep pushing into Evilpire territory and then not holding it, they leave behind bodies with bullet wounds. That means the Evilpire casters can recover those bodies, get a rough idea of how bullets work, and develop wards to protect against them.”
The three stood and continued on their way towards the ancient city of Ellesmera. They’ve been walking for three days nonstop and they were tired. The trio saw a small village in the distance and decided to stock up and rest there.
Oh, that‘s gonna go real well, showing two walking tanks and a Sangheili to a bunch of illiterate peasants.
“What are you talking about, you know they’ll be greeted with as much surprise as an email advertising fringe-enlargement pills.”
Everyday Anachronism Counter: Preemptively 17
When they approached the village, the wooden buildings seemed abandoned. It felt eerily quiet,
Is this… setting?!
“I think it’s still a little sparse, but this is head-and-shoulders above what we’re used to.”
but suddenly, dozens upon dozens of archers leapt from their hiding spots and drew their bows. They were not Empire soldiers, they were civilians forced to defend themselves.
Wow. Pretty militarized civvies there. Were they all trained archers or something?
A man stepped out from behind an overturned wagon. “State your business here!” John spoke, “We only need some food, some water and someplace to stay for one night.”
“Well, do you have anything to trade?” the man asked.
“No, but we have money.” John replied.
“Money is useless here, we need supplies!”
“Eragon never goes into detail about the effects of civil war on the Algaesian economy, but this seems surprisingly plausible. This chapter is actually continuing to impress me.”
John turned to his friends, Thel provided a spare plasma pistol, while Arya pulled out her unused SMG and John detached his M6G pistol. John walked forward with their offerings. The man looked over the supplies and asked, “What’s this?” John replied, “They are weapons, you just have to aim and pull the trigger. It is guaranteed an instant kill.” John lied.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaand we lost it.
I’m not entirely sure what he’s lying about here given that his description of the weapons’ lethality is only somewhat hyperbolic, but he does omit a very important element here in the form of ammunition. I wouldn’t want to be around when this village decides to fight off a platoon of Imperial soldiers and runs out of mags.
“He’s also skipped over any significant training, so- especially when it comes to the plasma pistol, a weapon with a somewhat non-intuitive assortment of surfaces that become very hot when fired- the villagers’ odds of exhausting their limited ammunition supply without maiming or killing any of their number are slim indeed.”
The man shouted out orders to some men who carried the food and water up for trade. A young boy about the age of thirteen approached John, “I will show you to your rooms.” The three followed the boy to a large cottage which consisted of only two rooms. The boy said a quick ‘thank you’ as John handed him a silver coin. And there they stayed for the remainder of the day.
If you’re trying to make your Gary Stu replacement seem like a caring and ethical person, it’s not working.
UNSC frigate the Everlasting Fury
“Which would be a terrible name for a Covenant ship, much less a product of the USNC.”
Scheduled orbital slipspace jump in 00:40:03.07
I’m not sure why this is bolded, given that neither 400307 nor 437 are actually divisible by 7, but I am perfectly willing to add “math” to the list of things that John and the Dragon Rider simply does not understand.
Captain Larsen stood in the bridge of the Everlasting Fury. Suddenly, the Fury started to rumble and shake. “What’s happening?” Larsen yelled over the rumbling. The ship’s AI, Arden replied, “The ship’s slipspace drive has malfunctioned due to an unstable engine reactor. We are about to make a blind slipspace jump in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…”
“That is still an immense, crippling design flaw. The UNSC should definitely have awarded that contract to Rillek Heavy Industries.”
You say that about everyone, including the krogan warlords you are actively looking to undermine.
“That doesn’t make it stop being true.”
Everything went black… again.
“And that’s just lovely.”
Spartan IV Kyle 214 woke in his cryo pod and waited for the technicians to open his pod.
And 214 is… you guessed it, not a power of nor divisible by seven.
There were none. He groaned as he pushed open his pod.
“”Kyle” is awfully lazy for a Spartan…”
“Hello? Hello?” There was no answer. The Fury looked like it went through hell; the walls had become dilapidated and sparking wires were exposed.
That sounds more like they left you in cryo when they dumped the Fury in a scrapyard.
“That, or the author simply does not know what ‘dilapidated’ means.”
Kyle headed towards the armory. He didn’t see anybody on the way. Kyle donned his cobalt Mark V Mjolnir powered assault armor then grabbed a MA5C assault rifle along with a few plasma grenades.
Good for him, I guess.
“Although even when we switched authors, we couldn’t quite leave the UNSC First Readers’ Book behind.”
John, Thel, and Arya were on the road again, feeling well-rested and energized. They encountered more Empire troops on the way, but they showed little resistance.
I’m torn between resenting being told about combat and being glad we didn’t get eight more paragraph-long sequences of John-117 tearing out soldiers’ spines and garroting their fellows with them.
They walked for another seven hours when the sky turned a dark shade of red, and what was left of an UNSC frigate fell from the sky and crashed down to earth with a loud BOOM!
That’s… kind of a ho-hum description of a spacecraft crash, actually.
The crash landing threw Kyle off of his feet, but his armor took most of the impact.
“I don’t think so. They just crashed into a planet with nothing to brake their velocity; there should be frigate parts scattered over most of Algaesia.”
He ran for the frigate’s hangar. There he saw a few dozen marines and a couple of wounded here and there. Kyle asked a nearby marine, “Soldier, what happened here?”
Well, sir, what do you think happened? We crashed into a frakking planet.
“Arden says it was a malfunction of the slipspace drive.”
“Any idea where we are?”
“Hell if I know.”
“What about the captain?”
“Sir… the captain is KIA, he died from the crash.”
“Oh, what a tragedy. The man we knew for less than a paragraph is dead.”
I’m not saying it’s impossible to do something like this well- there’s a scene much later on in Palaven’s Dogs where we are very briefly dropped into the perspective of a random C-SEC officer just before the aircraft she is in is destroyed by a rioter with a rocket launcher, but the trick is that you have to actually describe things and get the reader to experience some of what the average Joe you are following is experiencing. Otherwise, you get redshirts.
John sprinted toward the crash site. As he activated the zoom on his helmet, he saw a cobalt armored Spartan exit the crashed ship through the open hangar doors. As he approached the Spartan, John noticed right away that he wasn’t a fellow Spartan II or a Spartan III. Kyle saw another Spartan running towards him. He noticed the numbers 117 emblazoned on his chest.
Stop. Bolding. Random. Crap.
“It should be noted that canon is somewhat hazy on whether John-117 ever had a chance to learn about the Spartan-III program. And his armor does not actually have his ID number written on it. ”
Kyle removed his helmet, so did John. ‘Holy shit.’ This thought belonged to both of them.
Thel and Arya ran to catch up to John. They saw him talking to another Spartan, they both had their helmets off and… their faces looked exactly the same. Kyle spoke first, “So, how’ve you been, twin brother?”
Ok, a fanmade Spartan with “cobalt” armor is pretty much doomed to be a Stu from the get-go, but… I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a Stu being John-117’s “twin brother” (aside from Squirrelking’s immortal Joe Chief, of course).
“Pretty shitty, the Everlasting Fury had a problem with its slipspace drive.”
“Hey, same thing happened with the Forward Unto Dawn.”
“If every minor slipspace malfunction inevitably teleports starships to the Eragonverse, Algaesia should be littered with starships and pieces of starships by now. Just pointing that out.”
Thel and Arya were puzzled, there were two Johns?
“I’m having a hard time believing it too.”
Kyle looked at John, “Uh, maybe it’s time you introduced me to your friends.”
John turned to face them, “Arya, Thel, this is my twin brother, Kyle.”
DAMN! Bet you didn’t see that one coming! LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL. Who knew John had a twin brother? I DID! Well, yeah, blah, blah, blah, see you next time!
“I’ve experienced many things in my hundred-odd years of service to the Hierarchy, but until now I had never been physically assaulted by an author’s note.”
It’s just been a chapter of firsts, hasn’t it?
“Nonetheless, we must press on to Chapter 12, which is entitled ‘The Journey Continues’:”
Author’s Note: Yes, John has a twin brother named Kyle in this story. This chapter doesn’t have much going on, but stay with me here. It’s about to get a little more exciting in the next few chapters. Enjoy.
“If you need to ask your readers to ‘bear with you’ to make it through a chapter in which nothing happens, why did you write a chapter in which nothing happens?”
John sat next to his brother by the campfire. Earlier this afternoon, they had sent the surviving marines of the Fury’s crash back to the Varden camp along with whatever they could salvage from the debris.
Somehow, I doubt that the implications of there now being not just two but dozens of outworlder soldiers in Algaesia, including trained medics, technicians, and field officers, will ever be fully explored. They’ll just melt right back into the Formless Void from whence they came, and the narrative will go right back to sucking off its Stu(s).
Everyday Anachronism counter: 18
“Also, they’ve just sent a small group of soldiers, with wounded, overland through hostile (?) territory to a camp of indigs who have never seen them before and do not know they’re coming. It actually makes perfect sense that the implications of their arrival are not explored- the Master Chief simply got them all killed before they could do anything.”
They couldn’t allow the Empire to get their hands on any equipment.
Which is strange, given that you were trading equipment to civilians in Evilpire territory not a chapter before.
Kyle idly sharpened his machete, Arya was cleaning her pistol, John was standing guard, and Thel was sleeping.
A Spartan wielding a machete.
I’m pretty sure that’s one of the signs of the Stupocolypse right there.
Our four heroes had crossed almost half of Alagasia in less than ten hours, and they needed rest.
“Not buying it. Spartans are fast, but they aren’t that fast.”
They were almost to the city of Ellesmera; they could already see the lofty trees of the forest, only a few more miles more.
No, being halfway across Algaesia (or “Algasia”, as the case may be) would put them halfway between Ellesmera and Surda, seeing as Ellesmera and Surda are, well, on opposite ends of the continent.
Well, crap. I guess we’re just going to have to flood all the entrances to RIFFCOM with lava and wait for them to go away.
“Why does this building have entrances designed to be flooded with lava?”
Well, that seems like kind of a silly question now doesn’t it?
Eragon sat in his tent and glared at the ground, irritated at the fact that everyone had forgotten his importance. Everybody had conveniently forgotten about the great Shadeslayer. ‘One day, I will get my revenge, I swear this.’ He thought to himself.
Ok, Eragon might have been pretty Stuey before, but he was never this cartoonishly evil.
‘Remember what John said, little one. He was kind enough to come and reason with you.’ Saphira chided. ‘To hell with John and his friend! It would’ve been better for all of us if they hadn’t shown up here.’ Eragon spat.
‘Eragon! Stop being so arrogant and selfish. They are only trying to help, why can’t you see that? You don’t think about what’s best for the Varden, those two are here to increase our survival chances. What are you going to tell the weeping mothers or wives when people are killed because you’ve failed to see what is best for them?’
“Hmm, I wonder how Thel ‘Vadam would handle sniping enemy troops from dragonback?”
What was that?
‘We don’t need them here! And I don’t need you to nag me about what I can or can’t see!’
‘There is no use arguing with you when you’re like this.’ Saphira ended their mental conversation and set up mental barriers around her mind.
As opposed to… physical barriers around her mind???
“Don’t worry, I’ve had Captain Argovigian waiting outside since I realized we might have to act on a moment’s notice to keep Thel from becoming Arbycue again.”
*The corridor outside echoes with shotgun fire and profanity.*
“See, nothing to worry about.”
“We don’t need them here.” Eragon murmured to himself silently.
The group of four rested under the canopy of the forest. “We’re almost there, only a mile left.” Arya reported. They continued to walk deep into the ancient forest, tired and weary. They drank what was left of their water yesterday and their food was reduced to a few crumbs. Now, even Arya was dragging her feet.
And that, friends and neighbors, is why you take a Pelican.
Suddenly, seven elves riding on strange beasts that looked like horses came rushing from deep within the forest.
Ok, if they look like horses, and can be ridden like horses, and the elves in Eragon are never described as riding anything but horses, then those “strange beasts” are probably horses.
They almost looked… happy. John couldn’t picture them killing anybody. They wore a bright smile on their faces and were literally prancing with joy.
“It is a little-known fact that the number one industry in the city of Ellesmera is the processing of cocaine.”
Arya seemed happy too, the elves escorted the four to their destination.
The city was beautiful; almost everything looked like it was made from trees.
Many elves stared upon the four with curiosity. Kyle was nervous, he felt like he had entered a world of fiction, like everything was a fantasy. The people with the pointed ears, and the trees made into buildings, it all made Kyle tense.
A bit more of a subdued reaction than I would expect, but since he’s at least recognizing that there is something strange about his situation I’m gonna leave the counter alone.
They entered a huge building where a woman sat upon a throne. “Where is my daughter?” Arya removed her recon helmet and greeted her mother in a foreign language. There were tears in both of their eyes as they embraced.
Wow. So touching.
“I don’t think my hearts can take all this emotion.”
The queen turned her attention to Arya’s three bodyguards. “I thank you for bringing my daughter here safely, you will be treated like one of our own here.” An elf approached the three and spoke in an almost musical voice, “Come, I will show you to where you will stay.” They followed the elf to a large tree with a staircase.
“Enjoy your stay.” The elf left the three.
John knocked on Arya’s door. She smiled when she saw John standing in the doorway. Inside, John removed his helmet, then they wrapped their arms around each other and shared a loving kiss.
Oh, come on…
Suddenly the door flew open and the queen entered to catch the couple mid-kiss. “Oh, shit.” Arya and John both said at the same time.
OH THANK GOD.
, Oh shit indeed. Find out what happens to John and Arya next chapter! PEACE!
“Fortunately or unfortunately, there’s no need to wait. Chapter 13 is in fact called ‘Oh Shit’, and it’s far and away the most accurate title of any in John and the Dragon Rider.”
Author’s Note: Yeah, I admit it; I was planning on this ever since the beginning of John and Arya’s romance.
“That is an extremely poor sign. If this is the sort of plot we get when the story is premeditated, I would hate to see what happens when the author tries to improvise!”
Let’s see what happens to poor John. Enjoy!
I’m sure we won’t.
“Oh, shit.” John and Arya said at the same time. The queen’s face took on a dark expression. She sent John flying back with a quick spell. John’s armor took most of the impact, but the wind was still driven from his lungs. He put on his helmet again.
Gotta have your priorities, after all.
The look in the queen’s eyes spelled bloody murder, Arya came to John’s defense, “Mother, stop!” The queen glared at her daughter and spoke in a menacing tone, “I will deal with you later.” The queen called upon her bodyguards to arrest John. He didn’t resist as they escorted him away.
John was locked in an empty cell with iron bars.
And… why do we need to know that again? Wouldn’t… well, any other aspect of the cell be more appropriate?
He didn’t try to escape; he knew that if he did, aggression between the Varden and the elves would increase.
“I’m sure that given the Varden’s sudden acquisition of not one but two highly-advanced starships, they would be more than capable of getting the elves to accede to pretty much anything.”
He watched as his friends were also dragged into cells. “Nice going John, what did you do this time?” Kyle called from his cell. “Your brother has an affair with the queen’s daughter.” Thel answered.
Wow, I’m not sure what any of the others did to connect themselves to this situation, but Queen Bossypants sure doesn’t mess around with half measures!
“Holy shit… don’t you be turning into a playboy on me John.”
“I think we passed that point a long time ago.”
“Kyle, this is serious. Think of the damage we’ve done to the alliance between the Varden and the elves.” John said.
Meaning, of course, the damage you‘ve done.
“We? Don’t you mean you? You got us into this mess; now tell us how we’re going to get out.”
“These bars are made of iron, we can break out easily.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“I chose not to aggravate the situation.”
“I warned you of this John.” Thel said.
“Great, sit here and rot, sounds like a nice plan.”
“Shut up Kyle.” Thel and John both snapped.
“Well, you’re not going to get anywhere if you keep bickering like children on your first night at boot camp.”
The queen entered the detention wing and turned to face John. The queen’s guards unlocked the cell and escorted John away. Outside, John saw a whipping post. “Remove your armor!” one of the guards growled at him. John detached his armor piece by piece, and removed the top of his undersuit.
Oh, Queen Bossypants is into that sort of diplomacy.
“Get your mind out of the gutter.”
The elves secured John’s arms to the post as another elf read the crimes John had been charged with.
Let’s see here… war crimes, unlawful possession of a sex drive, dereliction of duty, failure to react normally to being teleported into a poorly DM’d D&D campaign, improper use of firearms, assault and battery, reckless endangerment of civilians, gross incompetence, defacing military property, and felony aggravated Stupidity. Did I leave anything out?
“Punishment for these crimes, is sixty lashes.”
John didn’t even flinch as a burning line was streaked across his back. He ignored most of the pain, but the one pain he could not ignore was the aching in his chest as he saw Arya being forced to watch him take his punishment. John lost count of how many lashes he had taken. But his back ached as the whip bit into his muscles and skin again and again. He started to fade in and out of consciousness as the number of lashes reached fifty. As the last blows were struck, the elves removed John from the whipping post. He got to his feet and reattached his armor silently and painfully. John’s advanced Mark V suit injected biofoam into his wounds.
The elves stared in amazement as John walked back into the detention wing without showing any signs of pain. John collapsed on the dirty floor of his cell and fell into unconsciousness.
“Speaking of whiplash, the narrative just can’t seem to make up its mind about whether John is severely injured by the whipping or not. He ignores it, then fades in and out of consciousness, then puts on his armor with great difficulty, then walks back to the detention wing without great difficulty, then passes out.”
I’m not actually sure what the appropriate response to sixty lashes from a Spartan is– they’re tough, but not indestructible, and as in canon Eragon we have no idea if a whip or a lash was actually what was being used here. But I would have at least picked one or the other.
John was awoken from his sleep in the middle of the night by a rattling sound. Somebody was opening his cell door. It was one of the guards. “You are free to go, Riderslayer. The queen has pardoned your crimes, but she asks you to see her in her chambers.”
Is it too early to let my mind back into the gutter?
John nodded and noticed that the cells where his friends were kept were empty.
As John entered the queen’s quarters, he knelt down. “Rise, Riderslayer.” He did. “I must admit, I have never seen any man or elf walk away from sixty lashes like that, I am impressed. Now, how long have you been courting my daughter?” John spoke in a mechanical monotone, “Ever since we fought together to take down an Empire supply caravan, I saved her life, but I was wounded in the process.”
“I see, so you love her?”
“Very well, I see you have presented Arya with a ring. You both have my blessing.” John could not believe what he was hearing.
“Neither can I.”
“Allow me to offer my apologies, I acted without thinking.”
“It’s no problem, but with all due respect, I don’t think I am the one you should be apologizing to.” John replied. The queen nodded. Arya entered the room and rushed towards John. They both shared a tight embrace. “My daughter, I beg you accept my apologies, I behaved rashly and impulsively.”
Ok, I actually thought this sort of worked at first- John did the crime (whatever it was, I guess just boffing Arya without the elf royals’ permission) and so he has to do the time, but once he’s done so his debt to ridiculous bloodline continuity is gone and he can proceed to court Arya normally.
Now, though, having all of these people apologize just makes it seem like John’s little “BECAUSE I LOVE HER!” (coupled with a massive dose of Stufluence, of course) has completely obviated his previous actions (and made Queen Bossypants look like an idiot to boot for whipping first and asking questions later).
Arya smiled and replied in a language John could not understand. But the queen smiled back, then, John and Arya shared a tender kiss. “I will arrange the marriage to be tomorrow.” The queen suddenly said. John and Arya smiled at each other. “That sounds really good.” John murmured.
“That sounds terrible.”
Arya was wearing a beautiful white dress adorned with flowers and jewels while John was dressed in the elves’ traditional outfit of marriage.
Whatever the hell that is.
Once both John and Arya recited their vows in the Ancient Language,
“Which we just learned John does not understand. He could have been giving the Elves full rights to his major organs for all he knows.”
their lips met in a loving caress. The crowd erupted in a loud cheer.
“You’re sure they’re not erupting in Flood infection?”
John could hear Kyle wolf whistle in the throng. The couple was presented with various gifts after the ceremony. The day ended with a wine party. John saw Kyle stumble from side to side, drunk. His words were slurred as he spoke, “Hey, Johnny boy, this is one hell of a party. Congrats, you finally found some…” Then he collapsed, asleep. John rolled his eyes at his brother who was snoring on the ground.
You know, I’ll freely admit that the pot might be calling the Stu kettle black here, but this Kyle guy is really kind of an asshole.
Arya and John lay together in bed, their bodies intertwined. They were breathing heavily, as John worked, impaling Arya with his spear again and again.
Bow chicka bow ow!
Arya moaned in joy as John took it to a whole new level, using his Spartan strength. ‘He’s been holding out on me.’ Arya realized as they continued throughout the night, unrelenting.
Yeah, she’s gonna wake up next morning with two broken femurs and a bad case of helmet-hair.
This is one hell of a party. (Takes another gulp of vodka). Hey ladies, did I (hiccup) mention I’m single?
“I am not in the least bit surprised.”
(Collapses on the ground, asleep).
“Sadly, his hand flopped onto a keyboard and he continued to write.”
Chapter 14 is called ‘New Complications’, and might actually be the dumbest one yet on record. That is not a good thing.
Au1h0r’s N0t3: Ugh, I am having one hell of a hangover. That was one wicked party last night. Drank about five bottles. This chapter, Eragon is beyond pissed.
So are we, pal, so are we.
Let’s see what happens, enjoy.
Eragon’s greatest fears have been confirmed. News of Arya’s marriage has reached the Varden camp. As he took in this new information, he could feel himself losing all purpose in life.
Man, talk about codependant!
Even Saphira left him alone, knowing that he would be unreasonable in his current state. He could hear the crowd cheer outside as the new married couples enter the camp.
“Wait, ‘couples’, plural? Did Thel ‘Vadam finally decide to settle down with one of the Fury’s crew?”
‘Lucky them.’ Eragon thought bitterly as he took a swig of wine. He overheard one of the newly arrived marines talking, “I heard the Rider’s got a crush on the elf, but when Chief got the girl, he’s the one who got crushed!”
I’m pretty sure that, even at the height of the Human-Covenant War, the UNSC did not have to deploy any Marines who were five years old.
“And I see you’re all adjusting to spending the rest of your lives away from your loved ones in preindustrial society quite well indeed…”
Everyday Anachronism Counter: 19
Eragon took another sip of wine and approached the marines. “Hey, if you got a problem… (belch) why don’t you come and say that to my face?”
“Why don’t you go back to your hole, you drunk prick!”
Ok, was everyone on board the Everlasting Fury infected by Kyle-214’s Jerkwad Virus?
Eragon tried to call upon his magic, but he was too stoned to remember any of the spells he knew.
“Considering that many of the spells he knows are one word, that is some extremely strong wine.”
“Oh look, the Rider is trying to use his fancy-ass magic! Better watch out!” They erupted into laughter.
“You know, if I didn’t know better, I would think the Marines were displaying an entirely reasonable reaction here and simply did not believe that he was actually capable of casting magical spells. But we all know that everyone transported to the Eragonverse immediately receives a complete neural dump of its inner working that they accept without question, so the Marines here are just being… what’s the expression, ‘douchebuckets’?”
While Eragon returned to his seat and continued to drink, Mr. T suddenly appeared beside the marines, “I PITY THE FOOL!”
“I think this one might count double.”
Everyday Anachronism Counter: 21
Then he downed a mouthful of wine and passed out.
Arya and John entered the cafeteria, and saw Eragon sleeping on one of the tables next to a few empty bottles. Eragon could feel himself being shaken awake. When he opened his eyes, he saw Arya’s beautiful face, “Hey gorgeous, why don’t you give me a kiss?” Eragon murmured sleepily. She grabbed him by his hair and viciously slammed his head on the table, knocking him out. As John passed Eragon to get some food, he shook his head in disgust.
Not that he doesn’t deserve it after a line like that, but it looks like we’re in for more pointless character bashing through no real fault of the Stu’s own.
Eragon woke with his head painfully throbbing. As he stood up to leave, a messenger approached him, “Lady Nasuada has a message for you.” Then the messenger savagely kicked Eragon in his reproductive organs with iron toed shoes. Eragon fell to the ground with a shrill squeal of pain. “Have a nice day sir.” The messenger said as he left. Eragon lay there, crying and clutching his aching testicles.
Eragon woke on the cafeteria floor; his balls were bruised from the beating they received last night.
Why, why oh why does the ‘fic have such an obsession with testes?
“Well, it’s what y’all get for not keepin’ yer balls up somewhere the bad guys can’t fuckin’ get to ’em.”
*The relative quiet of RIFFCON is shattered by a powerfully-built female turian, decked out in the latest heavy combat armor and fiddling idly with an oversized shotgun*
Oh, shit, Teron‘s here?
“I mentioned I’d enlisted her services last chapter. She’ll be running extraction on Thel ‘Vadam once we confirm he is no longer needed, and defending us from the DRD when all of your little death traps inevitably fail.”
Ok, for one thing she needs to go back to the Lambda Complex and wait right by that portal if she’s going to get into the ‘fic in time to do any good. For another, the engineers are already suing me for everything from gross negligence to improper political spending, and I really don’t need a four-hundred-pound turian wandering around and spewing lewd comments at them. Back to Sector F she goes, and there she stays until I decide she is needed.
“Yer no fuckin’ fun, ya know that boss?”
He could feel Saphira’s presence enter his mind. ‘Eragon, I’m almost ashamed to call you my rider.’
‘Shut up Saphira, I’m in no mood for your boring speeches.’ Eragon replied sleepily.
“Stu’s got a fuckin’ point, neither are we.”
He then saw John enter the cafeteria. Eragon stumbled towards him. “Let me guess, you got wasted last night, these people have got the greatest wine I’ve ever tasted.” Kyle said with a wide, dopey grin. “Hey, I’m Kyle, John’s twin brother, and who are you?”
“My name is Eragon.”
“Oh, so you are the drunken Rider that everybody’s talking about.”
“Ugh,” was Eragon’s only reply. ‘Great, there are two of them.’ Eragon thought.
“My thoughts exactly.”
As Eragon left, Mr. T appeared out of nowhere, “I PITY THE FOOL!”
“I do too Mr. T, I do too.” Kyle replied.
John saw Eragon stumbling towards him with a bottle of vodka in his hands. “H3y, h0w’s l1f3? I h3ard y0u 5cr3wed Arya 0v3r s3ver4L t1m3s! H0w d1D 1t f33l? Huh?”
Ok, that’s certainly an interesting way of writing out slurred dialogue, and of course I myself am perfectly willing to experiment with different methods of “painting on the fourth wall”, but I just don’t think it works. Better luck next time?
A few people gathered around to see what John would do.
“Judging by his previous performance, he will tear Eragon’s testicles off and throw them through his eye sockets with enough force to liquefy his brain.”
He remained as still as a statue, soon enough, Eragon took another swagger of wine and collapsed. John then literally dragged Eragon by his arm and threw him in his tent.
“Oh. Well, that’s certainly an improvement, however slight.”
Mr. T spawned beside John and screamed at the top of his lungs, “I PITY THE FOOL!”
*Drops dead of a massive heart attack.*
*Respawns in Traditional Elven Wedding Garb*
“Can you put on some regular clothes, please? The Void’s impossible to look directly at.”
“Wha… would you get out of here!” John yelled.
“My thoughts exactly.”
Ugh, still trying to get over that wicked hangover.
“And it shows. Oh, and you’re back to your usual doughy self, I see.”
Yeah, despite not having any limbs, the Sexist Stick is a surprisingly good tailor.
Oh well, see you next chapter.
Which, fortunately, does not include Mister T in any fashion whatsoever.