Gancho Libre

A lone figure flew down from the heavens and approached the notice board. He scribbled a picture of a buncha kids jumping on a trampoline while being eaten by zombies on @Archer 's picture.

Narrator Ganvcho, thinking they were there to make fun of 'The Warlock of Ozia United', hit them all in the face with the judge mallet.

Ioc knew where it had to go. Ioc knew what it had to do. Ioc knew, but it didn’t know. Why did the Ioc of the past concoct this plan? Who knew what side effects it would have? Ioc could die. That was the minimal consequence. For the worst case scenario, it’s mind would be irretrievable. Ioc would be ruined, but not in a way that would let it rest. ‘Prefrontal Cortex has grown more subtle,’ The voice of Hope warned. Hope had, recently, taken over Subconscious’ job as the chronic narrator. ‘You should be careful. He’s trying to get you to abandon this mission,’ Ioc nodded. In fact, it hadn’t heard Subconscious’ voice in quite a while, ever since Hope had become more prominent. ‘This has to be done. Do it for Nei’an,’ Ioc nodded more firmly. Ioc was what society feared. The world doesn’t fear a villain. No, the world fears a hero who fails. Ioc had built itself up. Ioc had become something of a figurehead, hadn’t it? Then, Ioc had let down the one person it cared about, the one person who trusted in Ioc more than anything. Ioc snarled. There was one thing about Ioc that was imperfect and terrible. One thing that needed to change. One thing that Ioc needed to destroy. Ioc teleported. It had been standing in the cellar of an abandoned house, a refuge for it, but now the cellar was empty once more. Ioc reappeared in Smedry Castle, the black, box-like building in Nalhalla. The place where perhaps the strangest beings resided. The world feared these people. Ioc was in one of the spacious rooms inside the castle, occupied by a young woman, who was purposefully putting a bookshelf’s books out of order. She finished and took a step back to survey her work. For some reason, she didn’t seem curious or even frightened as to why an unknown figure had materialized in her room. Ioc coked his head, then walked next to her, surveying the bookshelf for itself. A human’s mind worked in patterns. An ordinary human was mentally incapable of creating something purely chaotic. Everything made by man needed to have a reacurable variable. Everything, except, the order of the books. Ioc tapped Mental Speed to give itself ten full minutes of looked, but to no avail. The order of the books in the bookshelf was, in essence, the pure form of chaos. Ioc ceased tapping Mental Speed, then turned towards the young woman, Cecilla. “Huh,” Ioc muttered. “Your Talent. You use it on yourself? No, but this isn’t insanity. This is chaos,” Cecilla turned towards it. “Oh, so you can talk, can’t you? Well, you still can’t fool me. You’re nothing but my own imagination,” Ioc snarled and grabbed her by the arm. She shrieked. “I’m real, girl,” Ioc sneered. It felt as though… there was a layer of glass between its mind and its body. “You think I’m one of your hallucinations? No, I’m as real as you are,” Cecilla shrank back. “What… what do you want?” Ioc shattered the glass. It fumbled, then took Cecilla’s hand in it’s. “Come with me,” Ioc said, then teleported, taking her with it. They appeared back in the cellar of the abandoned house. Cecilla put a hand to her heart, gasping. “This is…” she panted, “the realest they’ve ever gotten,” The voice of Hope seized control. Ioc spun towards her. “Listen up,” Ioc demanded. Immediately, her eyes met it’s and Ioc smiled it’s cruelest smile. “If you do exactly as I say, you’ll find yourself back in your room of Smedry Castle. Got it?” She trembled. “And if not?” she whispered. She probably expected Ioc to make some obscure threat that you had to think about in order to realize it’s a threat. Now, of course, would be the perfect opportunity to do so. However, Ioc was on a time crunch. “Then,” Ioc snarled, “I kill you,” ‘We’d kill a Smedry?’ Prefrontal Cortex shouted. Ioc reeled internally. This was the first time Prefrontal had spoken in several days. ‘Didn’t we acknowledge that Smedrys were great people full of happiness and joy?’ Subconscious spoke as well, and this would be a cause for celebration except that the voice sounded suspiciously like Hope. ‘We're not going to, obviously. She’ll do as we say, you nimbrain,’ ‘I find that comment offensive!’ Association Cortex wailed, but Subconscious’ words held true. Cecilla shivered but nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. “What do you want?” Ioc took a deep breath, then picked up two knives. Cecilla shrieked. “HELP ME!” she cried. “SAVE-” “Shut up!” Ioc yelled, and she quieted. “This house is abandoned. Nobody will hear you. And secondly, these aren’t for you,” It raised the knives. ‘Are you sure?’ Prefrontal cortex asked. ‘You do realize what you’re about to do, right? I’m not just the front part of your brain, you know. I provide Reason,’ ‘Shut up and die!’ Hope yelled. ‘Perhaps I will,’ Reason said simply. ‘But without me, what will this body do?’ ‘We will survive without killing our own friends!’ Hope responded. Ioc’s hands began to tremble. ‘Was it my fault that Nei’an saved our lives? Was it my fault that we went after a stupid volleyball in the first place?’ ‘Shut up!’ Hope yelled. ‘Is it my fault that we ever met Nei’an? Is it my fault we inhabited his body?’ ‘Go away!’ Hope screamed. ‘Is it my fault that, all those years ago, we were ban-’ ‘DIE!’ Hope screamed, throwing his entire mental capacity against that of Reason’s. Hope, having grown incredibly strong in the past days, outnumbered Reason immensely. However, nothing Hope could do could stop Reason from speaking. ‘You’re not Hope, are you? You were given that name because you appeared in the face of death,’ ‘DIE!’ Hope screamed. ‘The first thing we thought of when we thought of ‘unkillable’ was Hope. Hope cannot die. And if Hope dwells with us, doesn’t it follow that we won’t die either?’ ‘DIE!’ Hope screamed again. ‘However, we ignored a truth we've been aware of for quite some time,’ ‘GO AWAY!’ Hope’s voice began to change. ‘Hope can be killed. People can give up. You are something even stronger than Hope,’ ‘YOU LIAR!’ Hope continued, but it no longer sounded like Hope. Ioc’s hands dropped to its sides. ‘The one thing that cannot be destroyed,’ Hope ceased to speak, intensifying the attacks on Reason. ‘The one thing that nothing, not even Adonalsium, can destroy,’ Hope struck. ‘The one thing that is purely independent of any other thing,’ Hope struck again. ‘The one thing that the world fears more than a hero who fails,’ Another hit. Reason began to shatter. ‘The one thing that cannot be destroyed. This is because it cannot exist in the same universe that sentience can,’ Pieces of Reason began dropping off. ‘You aren’t Hope. You call me a liar, but you name yourself Hope, after something you cannot even begin to comprehend,’ That which was not Hope began to scream. One long, never-ending scream. ‘You’re not hope. You are…’ Reason shattered. ‘Chaos,’ Chaos’ scream didn’t end. Not while Reason still existed. Reason the voice was destroyed. Now, it was time to kill Reason the idea. Ioc raised the knives, then swept upwards, shearing its forehead off, but in such a way that left the brain undamaged. Its brain lay exposed to the world, a window opened up by which to see it. Ioc healed the opened wound, but not regrowing it. The brain began to die under the influence of the outside world, so Ioc healed that. Ioc survived, even if Reason wouldn’t. Chaos had full control of Ioc now. There was no longer Reason to counteract Chaos. Ioc took a step forward, towards Cecilla, who shrank back. Ioc dropped the knives, and clutch on of her hands in it’s. Then, without a word, Ioc pressed Cecilla’s hand to Ioc’s brain. Directly onto the Prefrontal Cortex. A flash of pain entered Ioc’s conscious, pain brighter than any Ioc had experienced, but Ioc healed it away. Cecilla screamed. The situation would be too much for her. Being kidnapped, then forced to touch a living brain? It would be terrifying. At such times, Talents engaged, or so Ioc had heard. Ioc’s source was correct. And a flood of power flowed down Cecilla’s arm. A flow of power with only one ability. To damage the mind. The power flowed from Cecilla’s hand to Ioc’s brain. And Ioc blacked out for one second before it comprehended what was truly happening. Ioc’s brain was breaking. Desperately, Ioc healed the parts that were essential for life and deductive survival. But, under the direction of Chaos, Ioc left several parts of the brain, those that offered restraint and Reason. Ioc left those broken. Broken beyond repair. Ioc hardly comprehended as Cecilla wrenched her hand away and fled, trying to find a way out. There was none, and Ioc knew it. But Ioc had better things to worry about. The brain adjusted to this change in functionality. Neural pathways reformed, and the cranium reset. Ioc healed up its forehead. And Ioc smiled. Cecilla backed away as far as she could. But Ioc paid her no attention. Everything was so… free. Ioc could do anything. There were no feelings of regret or shame for anything Ioc had done. Ioc wished it had killed Max. Who would leave such a powerful Smedry behind? ‘But wait,’ Hippocampus murmured. He didn’t really have a voice anymore, more of a… prompting. ‘Wasn’t there more to the plan?’ Oh, right. The plan that Ioc now had no qualms about completing. “Take me back…” Cecilla murmured. Ioc turned towards her, still wearing that cruel smile. She shrank back. “Please, you said you would take me back…” Ioc took a long step towards her, bringing them only a couple of feet apart. “Oh, I will…” Ioc promised. Then, Ioc pulled out a silvery spike. Ioc didn’t know what type of metal it was, but Ioc had found it in Arnoldette’s castle after Nei’an had died. A diagram had shown what it did and where the bind point was. Ioc smiled wider, so wide that his lips began to crack. Then, in a burst of motion, Ioc lunged forward and stabbed the spike into Cecilla’s heart. She didn’t make a sound as she went down. Ioc placed the spike in its own body, then tasted the new ability it had. A Smedry power. So… underused. This was why Ioc hated Smedrys. They barely utilized their power. Ioc shook its head. It would return the dead body to the castle, as Ioc had promised. Then, the next stage of the plan would commence.

I'm not saying the ghosts would fight the Shards and stuff. I'm saying they'd fight, well, anything else.

Narrator Ganvcho acquired one of those hammer things judges have and hit Butt in the face with it. "Enough!" Narrator Ganvcho yelled. Can't you see you're making fun of 'The Warlock of Ozia United'? It's my favorite book!"

"Didn't bold what?" Narrator Gancvho asked as he indiscreetly edited his post.

I'm not? Dang, that's too bad. I thought I was.

Um... I'm pretty sure that's wrong...

Gasoline instead of military-grade rocket launchers.

In order to cleanse the universe, Ea caused it to explode.

No. definetly not.

The Pythagorean Theorem. I guess you could say I cheated, but it is a quote from a Geometry textbook.

I'm reading the first page, and I totally agree with you, Ax. I see no possibility where Sanderson beats Tolkien. If we're pulling characters from any time during the Silmarillion, Hobbit, or LoTR, then I have but a single point to make, and I apologize if it's already been made:

The goat of the goat of a goat goat is equal to the goats of the other goats. *Every noun is replaced with 'goat' Double points to anyone who can find out what's I'm saying, in terms on not-goat*

Son, just be glad I didn't volunteer to draw. I think yall's eyes would pop*. *out

I think the plain existance of this thread is part of a plot to make everyone following it never win the Game. @Inklingspren im on to you

Riathor took another bite.

Bit was resuscitated, yes, but the Bits didn't like being thrown around. Thus, for the millionth time in this thread, an inanimate object rebelled against the Universe, vowing to never be thrown around again.

Oh, I had an idea for how to pull off an Inquisitor for Halloween. If you buy/succeed in obtaining a pair of grey, semiopaque sunglasses (they gotta be circular) you could use them as the heads of the spikes so you can look through them.

George was sad. The snake man who was a tree wasn't going to pet him. George was aware of an annoying noise behind him. George turned, to see the person George had tackled at first. Or was it a different person...? Oh well. this person wasn't a tree. George the beaver dive-tackled the yelling nottreeman, preparing to eat through his rib cage. @PrinceDusty

Riathor stepped onto the ground. What? One minute, he had been... falling through the air at an amazing speed, and the next, he was... upright? Riathor shook his head. storming Radiants. Always thinking they're better than everyone just because it's a universal truth. He walked over to the dead Vulken dude. "So, huh. That's that, then?"