Hi. Apparently I wrote a story about Cesar, and so I've decided to turn into a series. Read it at your own peril, etc... Also, there will be updates so check back every now and then.
NOTE: I DON'T CLAIM TO BE ABLE TO WRITE. WELL, I DO, BUT USUALLY THAT ISN'T RUSHED AND SOMETIMES GETS EDITED. REGARDLESS, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
<img style="float: left; margin: 5px;" src="http://i.imgur.com/OBQeX.jpg">
[font=georgia,serif]Once upon a time, there was a spice merchant by the name of Steve Tryhard. [/font]
[font=georgia,serif]He'd spent many years crusading the deserts, discovering obscure sources and making rare finds, and so had built up an extensive collection of assorted spices. Amongst this collection were rare fauna and liquids, the likes of which had never been seen before; a magnificent display of colour and flavour, the sight of which would make any rival merchant glow green with envy. Eventually, tired of the solitude and endless walking he decided to settle down, and with his new-found herbs and concoctions, start up a new business.[/font]
[font=georgia,serif]He stumbled upon a small town, by the name of Temp, where he was initially welcomed with open arms. There, he quickly rose to popularity, before taking a seat within the highest echelons of their society. From this new-found position, our hero embarked upon the formidable task of [/font][font=georgia,serif]making his dreams a reality.[/font]
[font=georgia,serif]Finally, after years of wandering and months of hard labour, his shop was ready for opening, and oh how the townsfolk did flock. Initially it seemed like a resounding success! His produce was being lapped up by all who'd attended. However, fortunes quickly turned for the worst shortly after he began peddling his spices. For you see, the residents of Temp didn't have a particularly high level of tolerance to spice, and as he'd made it readily available, he was quickly ostracised by all those too puny to correctly perceive the majesty of his mighty seasoning.[/font]
[font=georgia,serif]Months passed by, and the situation gradually spiralled out of hand; Steve Tryhard's humble abode was now the victim of countless arson attacks. Quickly, they overcame it and despite attempting to retaliate he found himself engulfed by the onslaught. [/font]
[font=georgia,serif]As the flames burnt through his residence, destroying what he'd worked so hard to achieve, Steve Tryhard wept.[/font]
[font=georgia,serif]However these were not self-pitying tears of contempt, nor were they tears of fear. These were tears of pity; The denizens of Temp were enviably oblivious to the damage they had incurred. And so Steve Tryhard's feeble incarnation ceased to exist; burnt by savage flames, crushed by stampeding trolls. His miserable fate serves as a warning to us all.[/font]
TBC.
NOTE: I DON'T CLAIM TO BE ABLE TO WRITE. WELL, I DO, BUT USUALLY THAT ISN'T RUSHED AND SOMETIMES GETS EDITED. REGARDLESS, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
The Spice Merchant
<img style="float: left; margin: 5px;" src="http://i.imgur.com/OBQeX.jpg">
[font=georgia,serif]Once upon a time, there was a spice merchant by the name of Steve Tryhard. [/font]
[font=georgia,serif]He'd spent many years crusading the deserts, discovering obscure sources and making rare finds, and so had built up an extensive collection of assorted spices. Amongst this collection were rare fauna and liquids, the likes of which had never been seen before; a magnificent display of colour and flavour, the sight of which would make any rival merchant glow green with envy. Eventually, tired of the solitude and endless walking he decided to settle down, and with his new-found herbs and concoctions, start up a new business.[/font]
[font=georgia,serif]He stumbled upon a small town, by the name of Temp, where he was initially welcomed with open arms. There, he quickly rose to popularity, before taking a seat within the highest echelons of their society. From this new-found position, our hero embarked upon the formidable task of [/font][font=georgia,serif]making his dreams a reality.[/font]
[font=georgia,serif]Finally, after years of wandering and months of hard labour, his shop was ready for opening, and oh how the townsfolk did flock. Initially it seemed like a resounding success! His produce was being lapped up by all who'd attended. However, fortunes quickly turned for the worst shortly after he began peddling his spices. For you see, the residents of Temp didn't have a particularly high level of tolerance to spice, and as he'd made it readily available, he was quickly ostracised by all those too puny to correctly perceive the majesty of his mighty seasoning.[/font]
[font=georgia,serif]Months passed by, and the situation gradually spiralled out of hand; Steve Tryhard's humble abode was now the victim of countless arson attacks. Quickly, they overcame it and despite attempting to retaliate he found himself engulfed by the onslaught. [/font]
[font=georgia,serif]As the flames burnt through his residence, destroying what he'd worked so hard to achieve, Steve Tryhard wept.[/font]
[font=georgia,serif]However these were not self-pitying tears of contempt, nor were they tears of fear. These were tears of pity; The denizens of Temp were enviably oblivious to the damage they had incurred. And so Steve Tryhard's feeble incarnation ceased to exist; burnt by savage flames, crushed by stampeding trolls. His miserable fate serves as a warning to us all.[/font]
...Or so we thought, HI FIBRIZO!
TBC.
