There was a great problem looming over the great land of Britannia. It wasn't the economy. It wasn't rouges. It was the hordes of ravenous monsters. The problem was the smell. All of Lord British's subjects had never heard of plumbing so they placed all their bodily fluids into the streets, in rivers, or just out in the woods. Lord British was worried over the matter and issued a decree that said this: |
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"Orgebared! Tihnatmm! Kill him!!!" The knights lunged forward, but Marc was ready for the attack. He blocked Tihnatmm's blow and swung his sword forward, lopping off Orgebared's head, spilling blood all over his white armour. The corpse fell onto him, knocking the sword out of his hands. Tihnatmm began swinging madly at Marc, who blocked all of his hits with his shield. He reached down and picked up Orgebared's mace, swung it forward, and hit Tihnatmm in the head. His skull caved in from the blow and his brains pushed out the eye slit in his helmet. He fell over and Marc dropped his weapon and shield onto the ground. He began walking toward Ram, who stood up out of his chair. "You have fought well." said Ram. "Too bad you must die now!" He rose his arms into the air, and muttered the words "Kal Vas Flam," but suddenly the room began to fill with a white mist. "What is this?!? I cannot see!" yelled Ram. Out of nowhere, a blue blast pierced through the white fog and Marc could only see red. He fell to his knees, shuddering, not knowing what happened. Had he been hit? He felt no pain. He couldn't see if he had been hit because of the haze. The mist began to dissipate as fast as it came, and Marc say Ram slumped over with his back to the wall. He noticed the hole in Ram's chest that was spilling out blood faster than people flocking to the CSSC when eerything was on the Sabre Special. He realized the blood on him was from Ram. But who had killed him? Marc turned around to see the same beautiful woman that told him to find Ram. She pointed to the seat Ram was sitting in, smiled and then disappeared. The seat was white with a black hole in the seat. "I came all the way here for this!?!?!?! How odd..." Then like a fireball from a dragon, it hit him. Marc picked up the chair and he set off for Castle British. |
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People scoffed and mocked Marc as he entered the Throne Room of the magnifcent castle of Lord British. He walked up to the king and promptly dropped the chair. "I have your problem solved my liege." said Marc. A roar of laughter filled the chamber. Lord British almost fell out of his chair from the laughter. After regaining his composure, the king said in a very haughty voice, "Well young lad. Enlighten us on how this chair will help solve our problem. It isn't even finished! It has a hole in the middle!" The chamber filled with laughter again. Marc simply grinned and said, "Well my lord..." By the end of his explantion the room was silent and Lord British stared wide-eyed and his jaw lowered. "It's...it's...BRILLIANT!! What do you call it?" he said. "Well," Marc replied, "I call it The Porcelain Throne." And so Marc got the one million gold, and put a patent on his throne, and made a fortune from it. And Marc E. Dracon created the primitive form of what we call today, plumbing. |
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