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[Fault]

THE DEONIDEASEUSYSSEY

Spoiler:  BIRTH OF A WARRIOR (click to show/hide)

 

>_<

STOP GIVING DEON IDEAS

DEON IDEAS

D E O N I D E A S

D O S I E D S N E

DO DIE SANE

Deonideas sounds like some greek hero...

Wasn't he that Cyclops that sat in some guy's dining hall a little while back? I made a poem... Thing... Ditty...


<CONTEMPLATE>

Wasn't he that Cyclops that sat in some guy's dining hall a little while back? I made a poem... Thing... Ditty...


<CONTEMPLATE>

nah, that was Deonideainaeodaiousa The Unpronounceable.

DEONIDEAS'S BIZZARE ADVENTURES IN QUESTIONABLE ANATOMY LAND

Sounds like a great movie. Draw the cover art, please.

Ye gods, what hath'st these idle hands wrought

SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL!

we need ideas people! We'll craft a world based on the myths of the greeks and the vikings, the paintings of Vallejo and Frazetta, and the comics of Frank Miller and Rob Liefeld!

IT WILL BE FANTASTIC MANTASTIC

HERE WE GATHER TO ENSCRIBE IN ALL CAPS THE MANLY ADVENTURES OF DEONIDEAS, HERO OF THE AGES
All mediums are welcome - writing, illustration, comic book format, as long as they are EPIC and MANLY
this thread may also be used to help build the Brutal world and mythos for these stories

notable artistic contributions will be added to the original post

ART

Spoiler: ART (click to show/hide)

COMICS

Spoiler: comics (click to show/hide)

SHORT STORIES

Spoiler: DEONIDEAS: JOURNEY TO THE CENTER OF THE SUN by Huesoo (click to show/hide)

After all the killing Deonideas had done that day, Deonideas felt like relaxing, going somewhere no man has ever gone before. For ideas he went to his mentor Socrates, the man was in his office. As he walked in he noticed something was different about his office. There was a naked woman on his table getting pounded by the bearded man Deonideas called his mentor. "Well this is akward boy, have a seat she doesnt mind" Deonideas slowly moved to the stool near his desk. "Socrates im bored of being the manliest man of all of Athens, and killing persians by the dumptruck doesnt help either. I need to go somewhere no other man or beast has ever gone, so I have come to ask you where I should go". "The stars my boy, the homes of the gods where ecstasy is an everyday feeling, not a drug, where a mountain of challenges is no longer your worry of the day" said Socrates. "But the closest one is Helios' domain, and hes still depressed over his son getting killed by Zues and setting half the world on fire." "Boy do you really give two shits about that?! No you dont, when you come back tell me how it was being in the center of a star."

Deonideas left the building, weary but enlightend. He was some how going to go to the realm of Helios and make everyone bask there in his glory, but how to do this was the question! His mentor teachings included so little on this subject, yet he had to do so little. His only vauge idea of what to do was to make a cannon, and blast himself to the sun. He had no materials and only a hundred or so persian slaves. For inspiration Deonideas went down to the docks in Athens. While he was going he saw that two children playing with a bass skeleton, they were building a apartment with the ribs. Sudden and unique Eureka came to him!  A massive battle just occured a month ago and there was piles of dead persians. HE WAS GOING TO MAKE A CANNON OUT OF PERSIAN SCUM BONE! He ordered his hundred or so (he could never tell) slaves to collect the bones. They worked day and night, bringing back the bones on brittled carts that barely worked. The piles reaching nigh high, by the end the piles looked like a bone atlantis. The building of the Cannon was easier than the collecting, Socrates helped with the blueprints and the slaves worked magnificently. Now onto the fuel and actually firing himself off.

For the fuel Socrates had the perfect plan. Some chinese merchants just brought in a new powder that was highly explosive, but to give them an extra kick they needed bone, specifically, human bone. After making fun of their eyes and their undeveloped muscles Socrates bought all the powder, greatly worrying the republic. With loads of bones still left over from the cannon making, Deonideas ordered half of his slaves to grind the bone. Another sad thing to do was choose which slave to ignite the cannon, this ofcourse would kill him instantly. Caring for his slaves very much (even though he wipped and beat them) he valued all hundred or so of them, for they costed him a pretty penny. With the powder set, the cannon built, slave chosen and charge ready. They were ready to blow!

Spoiler: DEONIDEAS IN: THE INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION by Sonerohi (click to show/hide)

Deonideas was busily slaughtering wolves, tens at a time one day, when he saw purple smoke east of Athens, where Socrates had his bitching palace full of cheap wine and prostitutes. It was late winter, so Deonidias used the tibia's of the wolves for both skis and poles, and made his way to the palace, jumping over a herd of bears on the way. When he got there, Socrates had a most wonderful new idea. He had taken a wagon, put two cannons inside, and tied another two to each side, outside. He had, through a clever series of ropes and slaves, set these cannons up to fire continuously, and this pushed the wagon forward with witchcraft. Deonideas hated witches and their craft, and regularly burned witches through the intensity of his glare. He challenged this device of Socrates to a race.

Socrates's 'train' as he called it, sped from Athens to Jerusalem in 30 hours, and on a fuel efficient 500 miles to 30 blood soaked and fatally wounded slaves. Deonidas would have none of this. He punched a wall in Athens so hard he broke the sound barrier, scaring the hell out of every town that heard it. He didn't give a shit. Deonidas actually reached the town 4 hours before Socrates left, and while waiting for him to arrive, he conquered the Catholic Church, made himself Pope, and conquered all of the Middle East during a Crusade he declared. The End.

LONG FORM

Spoiler: DEONIDEAS AND THE WOMAN OF FIRE by Wilfor (click to show/hide)

Thumb, thrum. Thrum, thrum. Tunda, tunda, thrum, thrum.

The beats of jungle drums focused his mind, and he looked through dew soaked leaves. Wildcats and strange bugs had harassed him for days. Now he was within earshot of his quarry. Tunda, thrum, and he moved ever closer to their still beating hearts. Hearts that would not be beating for long. His weapon long since abandoned, and forgotten in a meatbog. It was some kind of magic axe. He didn't give a shit as he moved to the throat of the jungle procession. He was never unarmed.

Thumb, bum, bum. The priests' beat was summoning the spirits for protection. The jungle was dangerous, even for the well prepared. Deonideas grabbed hold of the stalk of a jungle tree. As it was pulled from the ground its roots tried in vain to grip the sod earth. Into the air it rose, and the nature of the men in the jungle was revealed. They were men wearing masks of fresh hyena leather, and horse heads. They carried two coffins through the narrow jungle path. Standing atop the lead coffin was their leader, the werecrocodile Amombabåd. The tree's flight lead it into the halfman, and made him fly from the coffin to the mud.

The priests ceased their beating drums and looked towards Deonideas, the clouds began to darken. A single, silver stream of light came down from the clouds, and encircled the read coffin. Deonideas had no time to take his focus off of what he was doing. Three of the priests rushed forward to him. The lead priest reached him first, drew a knife, and found his first attack blocked. Deonideas had taken his hand, and crushed its bones around the knife until the two were entwined. He ripped the arm from the priest, and declared to the world, "This is my knife flail." The second priest to reach Deonideas was cut clear across the face, and dropped to his knees in pain. The third peed himself, and ran into the jungle.

Amombabåd rose from the mud as a giant crocodile. His front teeth had grown so large that he couldn't close his mouth entirely. The manbeast let out a feral roar that made even his priests run in fear. They were alone on the battlefield, the two men of long names. Amombabåd began a running charge towards Deonideas. When he had closed the distance, the man tucked to the side and rolled. He unleashed the knife flail on the croc's sides, but to no avail. The werebeast had a skin as thick as four crocodile skins. The knife only breached two of them at any time.

Amombabåd turned to bite Deonideas, but the man grabbed the werecroc's front teeth. He pulled them out by the root, and leaped onto the beast's back. He turned, and planted the teeth into Amombabåd's eyes. He held tightly to the croc as it became a giant flail in and of itself. The beast flailed around for a minute. Deonideas watched the battlefield change slightly in that time. An angel of the fire god Azure Asflamebaits was descending upon the rear coffin. Amombabåd was rapidly approaching the lead coffin. Amombabåd's mighty tail blasted the lead coffin open.

Thrum, thrum, abumbum. The sound of drums was once again heard, and then fell silent. Deonideas watched as something rushed from the coffin onto the tail of the werebrute. It was another minute before the beast had slowed enough for Deonideas to see what it was. There was a man on the beast's tail, and he was drinking from a giant cut. The man raised his head, and blood mixed with saliva dripped from his mouth to the ground. The vampire spoke in wisps of battered air, "Freedom, oh sweet freedom has long been denied me."

"I will deny you your undeath," Deonideas said as he pulled the teeth from the beast's eyes. Gore came with them, marking them as true knifes. Amombabåd breathed shallow beneath the two of them.

"When I'm finished with you, there is a female fire angel that was once to be my sacrifice in that coffin," the vampire said. "With her blood, I will be invincible. Invincible!"

The male fire angel which had been standing atop the rear coffin spoke in roars, "I will never allow you to do that!"

Deonideas didn't give a shit about either of them. He lunged at the vampire with his knifes, and each of them found their place. Deonideas was on the other side of the vampire as its head thudded against the ground. He dropped the knifes to the ground as the acidic blood began to eat them. He reached behind him, and grabbed Amombabåd's tail. In two tugs it had come free of its master, and gusher of blood began to pour from the tears in the backside of the beast.

The fire angel turned to the vampire's head as it magically floated up to a man's height. "By the power of Azure's sunlight!" The angel fired a beam of true light at the undead monster. As the sunlight began to pour over the beast, sparkles began emanating from the skin of the monster.

"Your sunlight has no power over me!"

"Some day, someone will make a sport of this," Deonideas said as he took the werecrocodile's tail, and batted the vampire's head to the sky. It disappeared into the distance. It took nothing for Deonideas to resist the urge to run around in a circle.

The fire angel approached to congratulate him. Deonideas took the werecroc's tail, and beaned him in the side of the head. He only had to beat the angel for a few moments before he heard a crunch that was the angel's ribcage imploding. Deonideas tossed the flaming croc's tail to the side.

Deonideas approached the rear coffin. Its mahogany lid parted from the frame in a single fluid motion. The glow from inside was the only light left as the beam of sun from the heavens disappeared. Azure knew he'd claimed his prize in fair combat. The clouds were blackest black, and rain began pouring down in waves. Deonideas tossed the cover the side, and gazed on his prize. She had the skin of a human, but colored in light red with yellow and blue whirls. Her hair was silver, and streaked with yellow. She was naked as the day she was born, her skin steamed as water poured onto it. She threw a hand up to hide her ample breasts, but Deonideas had seen enough.

"You're mine, now."

She shot him an incredulous look.

He didn't smile.

Spoiler:  DEONIDEAS THE WANDERER by Fault (click to show/hide)

the sun beat down upon the head of Deonideas as he traversed the desert astride a black horse. His journey was far from over, and he could not count the number of days he'd been out in this treacherous place. Nor could he remember how long he'd gone without food and water. And though he had the fortitude to endure the journey, he doubted that his steed possessed the same hardiness. He knew that eventually the wind and the heat would drive the horse to madness, and that the horse would do all in its power to rid itself of his presence.

Not since Bill the Pony had Deonideas known a steed worthy of bearing him.

Slowly the gleaming sand turned to dunes and rocky hills. Unfortunately The terrain proved to much for the horse - it would not move an foot further. When urged to, it bucked violently, throwing Deonideas from its saddle. The fall did nothing to discomfort the warrior - he had to get off at some point, anyway. landing on two feet, Deonideas faced the unruly beast, which snorted and grunted in a very un-horse like manner. Jerkily glancing from left to right, the horse moved steadily closer.

He had seen this before. Soon the horse would try to kill him, that he was sure of.

Just as he'd predicted, the horse charged, kicking up its front hooves and letting out a shrill whinny. Its hooves came down like iron weights, but Deonideas was too quick for them. He raised his hands and caught each hoof, and with a sharp twisting motion threw the horse onto its back. He drove his foot into the horse's head and snapped its neck from its spine. With that ordeal over he turned to the rocky wasteland that lay before him. Taking vigil atop a high crag, he gazed over the desolation and spied his goal:

A great abandoned city, surmounted by three dark towers - The Lair of the cyclops Deonideainaeodaiousa, his hated rival.

They had fought before, and in that struggle the fel creature escaped with Deonideas' axe imbedded in his shoulder. He had sworn not to wield another blade until he had reclaimed the axe that was made for him, and with it reclaim his honour and his pride. Deonideas dismounted the rocky hill and turned towards the city, but something caught his eye - from the shadow of some great crag stepped a decrepit figure, a withered old man in a greying cloak.

"lo, traveler! It seems that trial and misfortune follow you wherever you go..." he called, his creaking voice hiding a slight chuckle.

the warrior stopped in his tracks. "what makes you say that?"

"only a fate frought with peril could have brought you to this place..." He hissed.

Deonideas cocked his head to the side. "you threatening me?"

"No, only a fair warning. You are aware that beyond these hills lies the lair of the One-Eyed God?" He said, his voice showing subtle hints of mockery.

"That's just what I'm here for." Deonideas replied, and started back on the path to the city.

"foolish youngster..." muttered the old man. Deonideas' stride faltered. He turned, staring into the faded eyes of the decrepit figure.

"shut up, Old man."

The cloaked figure's knees buckled, and he fell to the sandy earth clutching at his heart. Deonideas left the scene without so much as a backward glance.

After all, His journey was far from over.

Spoiler: DEONIDEAS AND THE PLUNDERERS by Mendonca (click to show/hide)

DEONIDEAS and the plunderers by Umlaut Van Karst

The deep orange sun sets behind the mountain, the wisps of cloud flicking off the peak with the far away wind. Deonideas was on foot, walking the lonely road, en route to the bandit camp at the base of the mountain. The bandits had first betrayed their position but two nights ago. Thinking themselves alone and isolated, they cooked over an open fire. Deonideas saw the thin black line of smoke, and could smell the roasted fish from his position several miles away where he had been waiting for 2 whole weeks now. He lived off naught but the memories of sexual conquests past, and moisture squeezed from the heather that scattered the ground at this height.

He had waited the two nights to ensure the bandit’s false sense of security was heightened and his hunger was at its most desperate. He wanted to ensure that after his victory he could pick every last sinew from the still-warm bones of his prey. He took up his gentle stroll as dusk began on this third night. The line of smoke that others wouldn’t have seen remained etched to his mind, and he walked towards it with nonchalant purpose.

There were no rags on his feet and his movements were silent. He left no footprints in the peat and his movement from rock to stripped-bare tree through open marshland was such that at no point did he leave a possible silhouette against the late-grey horizon. His only witnesses were the snakes, whose poisonous fangs bounced off his thick warrior’s hide.

He approached the camp now, in silence and with his hunger tearing him apart. He stood there, continuing to use the black moor behind him as a disguise, and stood a hundred yards from his quarry. He stood and admired the last few seconds of their horrible lives. He could smell the sweat beading on their armpits as they rested and muttered to one another, sharing a flagon of water. The water they drank was gathered locally, he could smell the silt disturbed. He heard the leather trousers of the nearest bandit creak and groan as he walked. The stitches stressed under the movement and the crumbs from the unleavened bread he was eating rolled down his chin. Deonideas observed it all.

These boys would make for no sport for Deonideas, and he was not entertained by the inevitability that he would have to kill these people brutally. The sport he had come for was the bandit king, Dyionisideonus. A terrible man of fewer morals than Deonideas himself, whose only source of joy was the collection of other men’s treasures. Deonideas did not judge him for his greed, but he did judge him for taking a treasure that Deonideas himself must have, that of the beautiful Minky Moo, princess and heir to the throne of Baylia, a bountiful land famed for its beautiful women and the hidden city of Clenerus, where so few men have visited.

Dyionisideonus stepped out from his tent in to the late evening air. He surveyed the surroundings and chatted briefly to the men near him. Deonideas heard the syllables they muttered, but did not understand the foreign tongue. With the wafting open of the tent he caught the unmistakeable jasmine smell of the beautiful Minky Moo, and his solid bronze wrist bracer fractured in his anger.

The unmistakable sound of rapidly failing metal caught the ear of the Bandit King, and spun his body round quickly to Deonideas’ position. Having left the lantern-lit tent to the relative darkness of the evening on the moors, he could not make out the events as they happened in front of him.

Deonideas punched clean through the back of bandit dressed in the leather trousers, sending his spinal column out through the front of his chest. Deonideas had picked up his liver and was biting and swallowing whole mouthfuls of it as he ran and approached the other two bandits, who had barely been alerted by the muted gargling screams of the first victim. His iron-rich snack was fortifying him as he ran, and with his blood renewed his muscles pumped harder. Jumping up to the first bandit, Deonideas grasped the back of the bandits head with his hands, the upper back with his legs, and clamped his mouth over the eye-sockets, sucking them out one at a time. Falling from his blinded opponent, he quickly righted himself and with a single powerful swing of his right lower leg, kicked in-two both of the femurs of the final bandit.

Dyonisideonus, the bandit king, stood there aghast. He was now able to see under the low light, and a dark silhouette of the hero, Deonideas, was apparent. Blood from the liver continued to slither down the face and upper body of Deonideas as he continued to eat. The bandit king spoke:

“Deonideas, you have come. I feared this day, but understand this, you will not have Minky moo. I have set a potion in that tent which will gradually overheat, to explode, unless I am there to reset the levels, using my deep alchemical knowledge. You kill me and in one minutes time, the tent will explode. You do not have time to save her, my unfortunate friend”

Deonideas didn’t give a shit*. He raised the palm of his hand up to the bandit kings forehead, clipping the front of his scalp clean off. As Deonideas lay over the body of Dyonisideonus, taking part in an impromptu culinary lobotomy, the tent behind him exploded with the bandit kings alchemical magic - sending torn, burning leather and furs over the moors. Deonideas finished eating the brain of the king under the emerging moon, and turned to examine the wreckage behind him. He saw the lower body of the princess, still largely intact, and warm. He had won the treasure for which he came.

Spoiler: DEONIDEAS AND THE SORCEROR by Sensei (click to show/hide)

DEONIDEAS and the SORCEROR
by §ilmaron L'áberas

One evening on Deonideas' travels, he came to rest at a small village in the desert. The very air of the place was foul, but even one so Manly as Deonideas could not go for more than two months without water, which he nearly had. And that evening he was forced to go against his gut and walk into the village for food and drink- but even his prodigious guts craved tacos. When he entered a frail man greeted him. "Stranger, I hope you are a doctor," said the meek and effeminate townsperson, "our elder is in need of cure, for he has fallen ill." Deonideas could not deny to help an innocent; only the skulls of evil men were destined for his extravagant codpiece. He yelled quite loudly (for that is the warrior way) "I AM THE STRONGEST MAN ALIVE. I CAN SOLVE ANY PROBLEM YOU HAVE." The townsperson who had come to greet him looked doubtful, but he led to him anyway to where the elder was in bed. The elder saw Deonideas and said to him: "Are you a medicine man?" Deonideas replied, "NO. I AM A STRONG ‼WARRIOR‼ Any problem you have, I will solve it, for I am the strongest man alive." The elder then told the warrior of his illness: "I cannot sleep, and I fear I grow weak and weary, so that my old heart cannot take much longer without rest." Deonideas said "I WILL MAKE YOU SLEEP." And then he did. Deonideas punched the elder, and he slept. The people of the town looked upon Deonideas with fear, for that is how one shows a warrior respect. Deonideas requested water of them, as a small token for his heroism. One stranger said: "Um... only if you return our beautiful princess to us. She was kidnapped, by the sorcerer Kleos who lives in the tower on yonder hill. It is a week to the east." Deonideas accepted, and took the water from the townspeople, despite their insistence, for a warrior must do such things in times of heroic need. He traveled for a week, and did not see the sorceror, but surely he had used vile magicks to hide the tower. Deonideas traveled a week more in search of clues, and saw a shining city with a grand tower. "Aha" said Deonideas "these meek townspeople travel faster than I, for they do not carry so many muscles." Deonideas killed the guards in the wall around the tower, and the sorcerer's minions fled with the babies they had stolen from other villages. Deonideas forced his way into the tower. Somewhere he heard a voice announce, "Stop! You are killing innocent people! Why are you here?" and Deonideas said "To save the boobs! I mean princess!" The voice said, "I have captured no princess!" But Deonideas did not listen, for surely it was the sorcerer's treachery. He climbed up the stairs, and found boobs. "Aha!" Said Deonideas, "I have come to rescue you!" and he took hold of the boobs. But then there was an unearthly voice. "My eyes are up here!" said the voice. But Deonideas did not listen, for surely it was the sorcerer Kleos' treachery. He climbed to the top to find Kleos. Kleos stood on a throne before a great, round table, with an evil consortium of sorcerers! "I HAVE COME TO DEFEAT YOU KLEOS!" said Deonideas. He flexed his muscles as he did so, that Kleos might know he was a true and fearsome warrior. "My name is not Kleos!" said the sorcerer, "It is Arthur, and I am a knight." But Deonideas did not dare listen for sorcerers like Kleos are a treacherous lot, to whom lies come easier than truth. Deonideas slew one with his fists, and another charged him. But Deonideas could not fight them both at once with his hands- he thrust his codpiece into the other, killing him. Then he threw the corpses at the ground, so that the tower collapsed. Deonideas was the only one alive after the confusion, but sadly he had forgotten the boobs. Defeated, for once, by the craftiness and treachery of the dishonorable sorcerer Kleos, Deonideas set forth for new lands.

Spoiler: DEONIDEAS: IN THE LAIR OF THE ONE-EYED GOD by Fault (click to show/hide)

Deonideas forged forward across the desolate wasteland. Far ahead stood the ruined towers his enemy's lair. The derelict citadel protruded from the ground like a cluster of jagged, emaciated fingers. It's walls bore the colour of sand-blasted bone - the same colour of the bleached landscape around it, which made it appear like a particularily large and hairy tumour growing from a patch of scaly flesh.

Eventually Deonideas reached the city walls, which were in a state of delapitated ruin. It was a simple matter to scale a pile of rubble and reach one of the gaping holes in the crumbling masonry. Having breached the walls of the citadel, Deonideas glanced outward from his vantage point. The city's construction was haphazard at best - buildings of both metal and stone crowded the ground below, leaving no room for anything wider than an alleyway. Precarious wooden structures had been grafted to the roofs and walls of the bulky housing.

The city was deathly quiet. long since abandoned by man, it was now the dwelling place of strange, half-formed things that crawled among the alleys below, fearing the light of day. And in the city's cold, black heart stood the fortress of the One-Eyed God. Three dark towers rose up from it's roof - decrepit stone pillars supported by jagged beams of iron. In the highest of these towers Deonideainaeodaiousa waited. The rooftops of the crowded city were close enough together that Deonideas could leap from one to the other. This would make it easier to reach the citadel - and this way, he wouldn't have to tarry among dark things in the squalor below.

The day wore on, and eventually Deonideas reached the walls of the citadel. He spied a reddened window set amid uneven blocks of basalt. Deonideas backed away as far as he could and took a running leap at the window. Deonideas sailed through the air like a boulder in a landslide, smashing through century old glasswork and masonry as he went. WIth a resounding thud, Deonideas landed on the floors of the citadel. A fel laughter echoed through the dark halls, and the voice of the cyclops was soon to follow.

"SO, Deonideas.. you found me!" his tone was boisterous and demeaning. "Come to pay me what's owed?"

"come out where I can see you, half-blind bastard..."

"you know where to find me, Deonideas." He spoke the truth. "I'll be waiting, with your axe..."

The creature's vile laughter trailed off. Glancing about the dim chamber, Deonideas located an upward staircase. As he ascended the blackened stairs, the decor of the citadel became slowly more extravagant. Basalt steps turned to boarhide rugs, then to fine eastern silks. The widened halls were bedecked with golden shields and mounted heads. Scattered among the floor tiles were barrels of aged wine and chests of carved gems. Deonideas cared not for such things - he was here on a mission, and had no mind for aimless plunder.

The graven walls, now studded with countless torches and candles, lead Deonideas towards a giant-sized doorway. Directly before the gilded iron door stood two marble pedastals, each one surmounted with a bizzare decoration. Deonideas was strangely intrigued by these pedastals, and stopped for a closer look. The decorations appeared to be human hands, preserved in wax.

"do you like them?" thundered the voice of Deonideainaeodaiousa.

In an instant, the fingertips of the hands blazed forth like candles, and Deonideas found himself transfixed by the flame, unable to move.

"They are the hands of glory, and you are trapped within their grasp!" the Cyclops shouted, clearly enjoying himself.

"THE HELL IS THIS?!" Deonideas replied, broiling with rage.

"Ha ha. They are the hands of murderers and traitors, preserved in enchanted wax! As long as they burn, you will never escape!"

Deonideas pondered this for about a second before exhaling sharply and blowing out the flames on one of the hands. Released from their mystic thralldom, he jerked around and kicked down the iron door. The chamber of Deonideainaeodaiousa was at last revealed - The one he had sought for so long was seated before him on an ivory throne draped in tiger fur. He was flanked by two solid gold handmaidens (the skill of forging women out of metal was rare indeed, and Deonideainaeodaiousa was a master of it) who bore incense and fine wine. Above his head, Deonideas's axe lay on a wall-mounted weapon rack.

There was a look of shock evident in the giant's single eye: "well, I can't say I expected you to break my spell that fast..."

"YOU SORCEROUS WHORE! I'LL HAVE YOUR HEART ON A PLATTER-"

One of the handmaidens advanced at Deonideas, only to be struck away by the back of the warrior's hand. She struck the far wall of the room with an echoing PRANG, and crawled away as blood-red rubies leaked from her dented gold face. The other handmaiden cowered behind a massive leather-bound chest. Deonideas approached the cyclops with fury in his eyes.

"NOT SO FAST, human!" he said, grabbing the axe. "you wouldn't want anything nasty to happen to your prized blade..."

"now you'd better put down that axe..." Deonideas said, raising a finger accusingly.

"I could make it into studs for my belt, or ingots for the forge... Or, I could give it to you... if you give me but one thing in return."

"WHAT?!"

"MY EYE!!" He roared, pointing an arm-sized finger at the eyepatch that streaked across the left side of his face.

Deonideas fumbled in his pockets, producing a cold orb of flesh stuck on a hoooked golden chain.

"Oh this thing? I almost forgot I was carrying it."

Yesss... give it to me!" the giant murmured, leaning his massive head towards Deonideas.

"you want your eye back? then take it." Deonideas threw back his arm and drove the eye, golden chain and all, towards the giant's skull. It ripped through the oversized eyepatch and buried itself deep within the socket from which it had been ripped.

The giant reared up, wailing in pain as Deonideas's axe clattered to the floor. The warrior, weapon in hand once again, left the acursed citadel.

He had payed what he owed. He had no more business here.

[Acanthus117]

I'm just watching this FOR MANLINESS

[Aklyon]

Deonideainaeodaiousa The Unpronounceable

THE HATED RIVAL OF DEONIDEAS

I'll help with this, either in writing or MANLY stick figure comic format. (whichever i get an idea for first)

[Fault]

first bit of art:

[SIGVARDR]

Posting to follow.I can see this thread going places.
Also nice art,but NEEDS MORE MANLY. mandatory severed heads must be everywhere,even in inappropriate times.

[Fault]

dude, his codpiece is a severed pony head. He also has a ripped out giant eye in his right hand.

[SIGVARDR]

dude, his codpiece is a severed pony head. He also has a ripped out giant eye in his right hand.

Failed to notice that the first time.He passes the manly test with manly colors,in that case.

[Neruz]

Toasting in an Epic Bread.

[Acanthus117]

Oh god, The awesome is killing me.

[mendonca]

I approve.

[Vester]

first bit of art:

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Oh my god, he looks like Kronar.

[EagleV]

I HAVE FAN ART

WHERE DEONSIDEAS KILLS A FELL BEAST, SURVIVES AN ORCISH ATTACK, AND MORE EXCITING STUFF!

Spoiler: ALSO, I CAN'T DRAW. AT ALL. (click to show/hide)

TOLD YOU

[Deon]

If the "our hero" pic had something extra which is obviosuly missing he wouldn't consider the day THAT boring .

[Rose]

I AM WATCHING THIS MANLY THREAD OF MANLYNESS

[Deon]

Sorry, I forgot to contribute something