Universe Afia
Amaka Nebula: Oedimaar Realm
Thunder ripped deep within the savage jungles of Cicily Isle, a reclusive island far north of a big chunk of earth that doesn't even matter right now. What mattered at this given time, stepped out of the shimmering blue liquid portal that clapped off in the deepest part of Cicily's tropical thickets: Ricven Tavius McQueen. Hero; adventurer; the handsome multiverser!
The tall, grinning, sturdy young Sepian man of russet hair, mocha cinnamon skin, fairy-licked freckles, and glistening eyes that culled the ire of babes—and rendered panties into melted cunt butter—arrived in Oedimaar realm on a one-track course to world salvation. Something atrocious rested beneath the island, and if it woke, a doom unending would crack the planet like a raw egg. Runny yolk and all.
Ricven must be swift. He took but a tiny moment of jungle-gazing while his big ears pricked to the distant sounds of cannon fire. Ships argued at sea. Expected. His face went dull for but a second, left eye twitching, for the corner of his lips crept a wry grin.
He snapped his bare left fingers then. His thumb popped off the middle digit. The loud crack conjured a large scroll out of thin air; the Pathfinder Scroll. It hung loose in the air before him, and as he opened the thick scrawl, a spectral black ink scrawled across its ye old parchment.
Neat! A scroll that charted the land...with NO HANDS!
"Not bad. That rhymed," said Ricven, of course.
Cicily's geography revealed to him. Its jungles sketched to the fullest and just off its coast fought a bundle of cute animated ships locked in intensive cannon fire. North of his position awaited a mass of derelict ruins surrounding a raggedy harbor; Anchor's Rage. Ricven cast his eyes into the jungles ahead and released the scroll. It zipped out of sight, and Ricven broke for the bushes.
From a grassy cliff, he graced Anchor's Rage with his charming presence. Compared to him, the harbor posed no contest. The busted wharf laid worse for wear; neglected. An all manner of nature and critters took over its inner pier. Creepy crawlies and bugs galore—and two critters getting nasty on the bow of a broken ship. Its broad stem tilted wistfully to the sky as the lusty rodents humped away.
Quite the dreary, though muggy, place to venture. Not a family vacation spot, though. The harbor provided nothing great of eye-candy; unless one took a liking to its horrid array of dead wood, moss, and a hideous mass of barnacles claiming almost everything in its old wake.
Ricven swept the wharf from his high vantage. He plunged into the port's crummy deformities and chanced upon a chunky cluster of collapsed stone. He palmed his hips; a slick grin in tow. He stood before the ruinous clot of towering stone and figured himself up a means to pierce the lump of pillars and hefty stonework that once made Anchor's Rage such a wondrous place.
Ricven sucked at his teeth. "Heh. Yeah. A wondrous dump..."
"That be our wondrous dump, land-skeever!"
Ricven never got a chance to catch the pitapat at his back. He laid a gaze over the jacket's fluff of his shoulder and counted seven shaggy men in rags toting swords and pistols right for the back of his head. The frazzled crew of ruffians smelled like smoky seawater; straight out of a belligerent ship war.
Come to think of it...the cannon ball squabble ceased to exist, too.
Ah, fuck... Was hoping to evade these yo-ho-mongrels... Ricven thought. His face, however, refused to pass up the grins; his nature.
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The|MULTIVERSE
FantasíaWARNING! This novel is an unconventional work of fiction. Anything you may read in the following episodes is solely created out of sheer satirical coincidence and is NOT to be taken out of ANY context OTHER than it being RIDICULOUSLY entertaining as...
