(no subject)

This is an utter brainfart. That is all.



The scene appeared to be a generic fantasy world. We were in a large valley with a mountain city made of marble. The Jurisdiction had set up camp about half a kilometer away from it. The camp was busy with a flurry of people examining texts. When I entered the camp I was brought over to Landsbury, the liaison to the PPC (an group that looked after fan fiction and trimmed out nuisances known as Mary Sues that often ruined literature by their mistakes). Behind him I could see a group of PPC agents dressed in their rag tag uniforms, bristling with weapons.

"What's the story here?" I asked.

"Well Thursday, it's like this. The PPC thought they had themselves a Stu in a horrendous crossover fic, but it turns out he's not."

"Then what is it?"

"It's a generic gone rogue. He calls himself Eragon. Apparently he's gone through hundreds of fantasy novels and cut out bits and pieces to make his own world, changing names here and there. But if you look at the text you can see that it's put together by someone who doesn't know what he's doing."

eragon redux pt.3

Sloan kept Carvahall's general store in almost obsessively neat order. The large man knew that ever piece of supply had its own place, from the bags of flour to the knives to the buttons for women's dresses. He prided himself on keeping such a well-stocked store- it provided everything that the townsfolk couldn't make or grow for themselves, and kept him and his only daughter, Katharine, fed.

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(no subject)

World building stuff. Lorac's got his own cult.

( the Cult of Lorac )