Saturday, 5 May 2012

A blossoming love story

This following post is inspired by the oatmeal post about how to be obnoxious on facebook.
A suggestion of a thing to do that isn't obnoxious and stupid is:
Write an epic love story involving cage-fighting nuns and tanks
(It may not be epic in length, but it will be epic in epicness)
So you will now find the map of the Realms of Jasmire (you heard me) and the first few words of the story. The map took me freaking forever though, so it's not as much as you know whatever deal with it.

Chapter One:
Once upon a time, there was a war. It wasn't the biggest war ever or the meanest war ever or the hardest war ever, but it wasn't the smallest, nicest or easiest war ever either. It was kind of like the Baby Bear bowl of porridge in Goldilocks, war-wise.
We begin in the land of Fymh. The war has just started, and the Fymhian government are the ones who started it. Well, not to hear them tell it, but everyone knows that they did. Over the last few months of campaigning, they moved thousands of conscripted Fymhians into the land of Lepodurus. The north of Lepodurus is now in a constant state of turmoil, with petty battles everyday for scraps of land. The previously green fields are now dead, muddy mires, with the boot prints of both armies sunk in everywhere.
The Lepodurites have so far held their ground well, particularly after drawing up allies from the south, in Willowgard and Durak, and calling the always gentle Larvirians down to tend the wounded.
Fymh, its leaders having spent the last 200 years of their rule fighting the surrounding nations, have no allies to call upon.
But the conscripted men and women fight hard for Fymh and one cadet in particular is vehement in his defence of his land.


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