LolzEditor

Whats a point of making a strength pure whom cannot hit his oppenent? Whats the point of making an attack pure who's max hit is two? Whats the point of making a defence pure whom cannot hit his opponent AND has a max hit of two?

Good story...as always. At the end of chapter seven, part 7, Karvik sounded like he was confident when going to the meeting. Did he know that Alexi was going to be angry at him? The characters keep getting more and more evil. And before I thought Uoveriee was bad... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sort of sounds like the wolf is like the feathers of ravens. Comma between finest? It sounds like "finest standing" is a phrase here. Is it the pet who stared at Kavik, or the wolf? "Could barely tell" isn't correct, because you're talking about "if he were" in that situation. "Different almost"? I sort of got lost on this sentence. "Positively creepy" is an interesting phrase... Replace To Hold his Place with Held his place? Replace Knew with New Sounds like the whole council still governed Bluudkein. Before, the whole coucil governed Bluudkein , not only one leader/person I personally think "all this" sounds much better. Hey umm... whose Unoalexi? Is that Alexi? If someone's scared, they wouldn't say "she had less sense than a sack of feathers". Glaze? Isn't that what you put on pottery? Maybe you could replace that with "glare". "Umm..yes?" sounds sort of sarcastic, not sutible in a situation where a wolf's gonna eat her... I like this part.

Hey, why is it that it's always the 12 year olds that get offended? Probabally half the students nearing the end of high school wouldn't understand words like "stupor". I have no trouble at all understanding the story, but I might have to look up one or two words in the dictionary. I give you 10 somethings /10 (Muhahaha lowest mark your story has ever gotten!)

Agreed... I'm craving for more, and it's already been two midnights

Snake and Noob was actually good at the start, but it just kept going downhill. Once one reads ten ore more chapters, the jokes aren't funny anymore. In fact, by around your 25th chapter, when you started taking the "serious approach" on Snake and Noob, it wasn't funny at all. You just took the jokes out but left the blood and gore in. I personally find having your protagonist minced into meatballs after every chapter quite repedetive. As archimage pointed out, its unrealistic. Fist of Ozzy has some good points, and you really don't have many fans compared to all the other epics in the Varrok Library.I corrected this work purely out of boredom, and don't be offended by my critisism. And you should proofread your work. Note: If you're using sub-black, you can highlight the green to make it more readable.

I was a survivor, but I envied those who died. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The blinding flash of white light sparked at my instincts, and my eyes immediately slammed shut. I couldnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t see the grenade, but I felt it. My arms fumbled over my eyes, rubbing away the pain, and the grenade exploded. Pallets of ball bearings shattered the war torn city. Two ball bearings made its way into my skin, burying themselves in my flesh. One lodged itself in my heart, or in my lungs. I couldnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t tell, for both my breathing and heartbeat was faster than ever before. The second bearing was on my left shoulder. There was nobody to help me. I had to help myself. Each step was heavy, yet my body felt light. I could almost feel the could metal of the ball bearings, which stayed lodged in my skin. I could feel trickles of liquid drip down my sun tanned skin. Rivers of blood. I could see my house, yet it seemed to keep the same distance from me every step I took. No, it was coming closer. It came too slowly. I wouldnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t make it in time. I tried to scream out, but the air was punched out of my lungs. The first ball bearing was in my lung. I could feel it now. My lungs wheezed every breath I took. Breathe in. Breathe out. Dammit, I was going to die. Each time that thought crossed my mind, my breathing would wheeze even louder, and blood would stream out quicker. Clear out my mind. Think happy. Think happyÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâæ I thought happy. The pain grew worse. I knew the pain wasnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t that great, it was my fear that hurt. Happy memories I would never live again made it worse. Fear of the past. Fear of the future. What did the afterlife hold in store for me? I didnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t want to know. I began running. A jog at first, but it slowed to a sprint. The house was so close by. A few more steps. I didnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t make those steps. The world went black. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I was still alive, but the pain was greater. I could feel a bed. I didnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t recoignise the face looming in front of me. But she knew who I was. Why couldnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t I tell? Did I know I was crazy? Who was the one who helped me? I kicked at her. She tried to defend herself, she begged at my feet, but I couldnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t remember her pleading. I knew she was crying, but I didnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t know what emotion that was. Anger? Happiness? I knew what she felt when I attacked her for the last time. Pain. Like I did. Then nothing. She died in the house I had been running to. I donÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t remember why I ran there. I wanted to die but I couldnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t I knew I was crazy, but something insisted I wasnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t. The wounds were still there but I couldnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t feel them. I had survived, but I didnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t know it. I wandered aimlessly. I saw bodies, like the one I had just seen. Dead, motionless. I looked around. I was the only survivor. I didnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t know what my life was before I went crazy. I know nothing of happiness and joy. But I know anger. I know instinct. My instinct prevented me from going to hell. I envied those who died.

Can someone read this, because part 4 is up....

Yay new chapter! Wooo!!!!!!! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ On the topic of Harry Potter: =P~ The power still comes from the runes. The words are just a means to direct them. Doesn't Harry Potter use words to "direct" his power too? He can still cast magic without saying the words. He still needs willpower to create magic, and his willpower is greater when he has strong feelings (usually anger/ fear). And Harry always casts magic better when he's angry/ in danger. In Harry Potter, the power actually comes from the wand. You use words to direct the power. In RuneScape, the power comes from runes. You use your mind to direct the power. You perform better physically when you're angry/in danger. It'd make sense if magic worked the same way. Of course magic isn't real, but it's fun to talk about. :D Some of the magic comes from Harry Potter himself, doesn't it? Dumbledore isn't one of the strongest wizards around because of his wand, its because of his own power. If the power does come from the wand, isn't it innate power? Which ruins the whole "Harry Potter Can't do Real Magic" debate. The mind is used to direct the power as well as the words. I'm pretty sure that saying the spell aloud would help the mind direct the power (like its easier to remember words by repeating them ALOUD instead of in their mind).

Ok readers (if there are any), Part 3 is now up!

In "Release", it's really annoying how the blackground is light blue/ cyan... it really hurts my eyes when i'm trying to read. Anyway, I actually like how you flit around at the beggining of chapters- it makes it more interesting

Toren ran his last steps out of the forest, huffing and panting. It couldn't be this easy. He noticed that a huge crowd gathered around something that looked interesting. Intrigued, he went to have a look, squirming his way through the crowd. Apart from the fact that it was the place he had appeared in this strange world, it seemed nothing special, but then he gaped when he saw what everyone was screaming about.

Part 2 now up. Enjoy

Author's Note: I'll keep all the parts in the same post, so they are easier to find. [hide= Prologue] Prologue Abraham Armando. The name arrived, with a photo of a middle aged man, printed next to the address- 33 Bloomsbury Road. The name kept churning in the assassinÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s mind as he investigated the sign marked Commonwealth Bank, and the door which the victim would walk out of. The first name, Abraham, kept pounding his brain like an iron fist, reminding of what had started this all. Rudy Ryker kept trying to tell himself that it was all for a good cause, and he didnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t have a choice but he knew it was a lie. He kneeled on the second floor of a five story apartment, his window slightly open, just enough make certain that the bullet would fly through. He cocked his gun, aiming the deadly weapon just below the black worded sign. Commonwealth Bank. He kept the gun steady, his finger on the trigger. He could come any time now. But the target never came out. Fatigued, Rudy relaxed his gaze on the revolving doors, and loosened his grip on the rifle. He immediately became alert when a shadow cast through under the sign. He grabbed at his gun, nearly letting off a blind shot. A man walked out of the doors, his back turned. From the back, his hair looked vaguely familiar to the man in the photo. When the man turned back around, Rudy let out a sigh of frustration, nearly shooting off a bullet in his rage. He wasnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t the right man. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Abraham had changed his last name from Smith to Armando long ago. He hated his old name, which had been said with scorn so many times. Abraham also wished to erase all memories of his parents; the ones he blamed for everything that went wrong on his lifeÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâæthe second people on the hit list after the one he hated mostÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬ÃâæRudy Ryker. Abraham, a serial killer had hired Rudy to do his dirty work, their only conversations by phone. Today, he had sent Rudy his own name, phoney pictures, and an address where the target would never walk out. Today, Abraham would have revenge on the one he hated the most. He sped through the straight stretch of road, as the police station came looming into view. He parked a few blocks away from the station, opening the door of his two seated Ferrari. Abraham, physically weak, only had to run a hundred meters before his face turned beetroot red and began panting like an asthmatic. When he burst into the police station, he almost collapsedÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâæof laughter. How easy could this get? ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâ¦Ã¢â¬ÅWhatÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s the matter?ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬ÃâÃ

Taron watched as the tiger dissapeared into the dark weedy forest. He was shaken. Taron knew that the voice hadn't come from the mouth of the tiger, it seemed to be all around him, the voice of the forest itself. Wary not to be caught again, he tried to move his trembling legs, but they wouldn't stop shaking. His eyes brimmed with tears, and the first time in his life, he felt true fear, not like the fear that his computer game character would die. He was immobile, eyes darting around fearfully as he took slow, calculated steps, each step brining him closer to saftey... and danger. ~~~~~ Zeke watched from the shadows, a smile creeping up on his feline face. He loved tourturing the weak and helpless, and decided not to kill the boy... yet. The boy would serve as entertainment, as he waited for the others to reach the gate... or die. One person has already arrived. Zeke heared the voice whisper into his ears. Seems like this is going to be more interesting than I thought. Zeke smiled, and turned his attention back to the geekish boy, moving in for the kill.

The power still comes from the runes. The words are just a means to direct them. Doesn't Harry Potter use words to "direct" his power too? He can still cast magic without saying the words. He still needs willpower to create magic, and his willpower is greater when he has strong feelings (usually anger/ fear). And Harry always casts magic better when he's angry/ in danger.

Lol, I never knew you people were so young. I turned 13 last week...

Taron suddenly regreted signing in. Even the hounds would be better than this. Looking back at the path he tread, a little bright spot of light filtered in, not too far away. Taron shivered as he saw a dark shadowy creature lunge at the mage. Waiting until the mage was out of sight, he darted towards the exit, not knowing that someone was awaiting...

Yea, I still wanna play but I have a few questions... Is my character the computer geek? How does the mage know Kuul's name?

Sorry, I misunderstood what I was supposed to do/ what the story was about. I thought Hunter's Run was something like a computer game, because in Zeke's bio, it says he created Hunter's Run.

Name: Toren Description: Short, black hair, black eyes, pale skin. Age: 18 Gender: Male Allignment: Good Bio: At the age of twelve, he found he was adopted, and ran from his family to live on his own. His computer- his only valuable and only form of entertainment. He surfs the net to find the ultimate computer game- but gets more than he bargined for when he finds Hunter's Run. The screen flashed light blue, illuminating the dark walls around, revealing the face staring fearfully at the retorting computer screen. Two words displayed in a deadly crimson red consumed the monitor- HunterÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s Run. Too late, Toren dived at the mouse. The white cursor darted across, completely missing the Cancel button . An overwhelming tingling sensation came over Toren as his vision swirled into nothingness. TorenÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s eyes willed themselves open, the pain crushing down unbearably on his tiny frame. Covered in white fur, grass reaching up to his neck, ears ridiculously large, he stared into the rippling lake nearby. The reflection gazed back in shock- a baby rabbit. Its red eyes wide, ears twitched, his mouth opened into a large O. A snarling black striped face appeared next to him on the waterÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s surface; stealthily striking its paw a hair width away from TorenÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s left hind leg. Its eyes glowing unnaturally green, grinning wickedly to reveal a set of razor sharp teeth. Toren immediately darted away- instincts already catching on. When hind legs were tired from hopping, he scrambled across the grassy terrain, as the tiger approached slowly, its steps much larger than the desperate hopping rabbit. The chase didnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t last long, as the tiger swerved around cleanly in front of Toren, its deadly claws opening, swiping at the rabbit with one mighty sweep. Toren squirmed desperately, as a claw impaled itself into his ear, pinning it against the floor. Rabbits seemed to have trouble expressing pain and fear, but the wound stung, as his hearing became distorted. As the final blow was struck, the tiger seemed to shrink into the distance. Toren watched himself being slaughtered on the computer screen- blood seeped from three deep gashes in the snow-white fur. It took a while for his vision to re-focus and thoughts to process. Toren knew it wasnÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢t a dream- for glowing words scrawled in cursive green handwriting emerged from the tigerÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s eyes. The five words seemed to be much larger that the computer. The Hunt has Just Begun. Toren ripped the cords out of the PC, wishing more than anything, to dispose of the reminder of what just happened. The screen turned blank, and the words changed. Play Along, if you Wish to Live. But he had no intentions of playing as a pawn in the game, as he lifted his precious computer, not wishing to depart with it, yet he had to do it to escape the gameÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s clutches. The window was opened, and the computer, and all its parts came tumbling out of the multi-storey building, pieces scattering with a loud crash as it hit the ground. Look below, where you threw it. The words had changed again, now a deep blue. As Toren looked down below, his eyes popped from his sockets and his face turned from yellowish-pink to a sheet of pure white. A set of gleaming green eyes of a prowling tiger stared straight back at him, its teeth reflecting the midnight moonlight.

Yea, I should, but in archimage's post it says: posted consistently in Varrok Library for two years or more. I've only been here for half a month or so. Yay 9 kittens ^.^

Note: Haiku is a non rhyming poems with 17 sylabells in three lines. It is USUALLY divided into 5/7/5 sylabells, but it can be varied ____________________ Orange sphere rose- light shone on glistening ripples sparkling azure. ___________________ Morning spring breeze- flowers bloom- pink petals flutter gently wavering. ___________________ Icy sheet of frost- smooth as the glass through which I peered. beautiful white. ___________________ Gentle green grass- gazing up at the cloudless blue sheet- motionless I lay. __________________ Engulf blackened wood silent as tiger prowling red glow flicker strong. ___________________ Rolling dirt cloud dark brown settling on skin stinging fragile eyes. ___________________ Warm summer breeze- bring vivid memories of joy- happiness destroyed. ___________________ Stars twinkle brightly lights dim with my dying faith- midnight- I waited. ___________________ Carcass carried away- The body was gone but his scent still lingered. ____________________ Bright blue crack opens black sky- slitting dark clouds- like the crack in my heart. ____________________

Author's Note: I'm going to put ALL the parts in the first post, so no-one has to sift through the posts to find the next part. Prolouge One century ago, The Atomise, a secret group bent on overthrowing The Kingdom of Terebinthic, was defeated, their leader slaughtered. They were never seen againÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâæuntil now. ItÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢s different this time. This time they have a land of their own. This time, they have The VoidÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâæ Part 1 The two children heard the attack coming. A battle cry followed by the scraping of metal, weapons clashing, and screams of agony. This time the battle was different. This time, the enemy was stronger. This time, their father was fighting. They saw the fury in their fathers eyes as three enemy soldiers, with the crest of the atomise engraved on their breastplates. He was fighting desperately, casting spells to delay the enemies, to protect his children, his blade slicing the air, slowly backing down. Seeing an opening, he drove his sword into the heart of the middle soldier, piercing his plated armour, but the other two attacked in unison. He tried to focus enough energy to cast a shield spell, but it was too late. Both blades drove into his stomach, jutting out of the other side. Blood spilled, but he did not care. He look at his children, innocent civilians, their eyes watering, watching fearfully, not daring to make a sound. With the last of his strength, the father summoned all his energy into one powerful blast, killing himself, and the enemies around him. The battlefield was silent. The enemy had retreated. But in ways, the battle was the worst loss the Kingdom of Terebinthic had ever suffered. The land was strewn with blood and dead carcasses, many of which were not the enemiesÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ã¢ââ¬Å¾Ã¢. King Magar walked through the sea of dead bodies, as the loved ones of those deceased searched through the bodies. He recognised two children, a boy and a girl, mourning over a body still streaming with blood. ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬Ãâ¦Ã¢â¬ÅDiegoÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬ÃâæVanessa?ÃÆââââ¬Å¡Ã¬ÃâÃ

Ok, now i've gotten rid of all the repetition (I think).

I love the style of the poem, but where is the journey to?