Tactician Fantastico!
Summary: a mysterios man joins the black fagn and gets feelings for limstela. r&r (Spelling Mistakes intentional) Err...would this be Yaoi? Limstella is technically androgynous.
Hehe, welcome to the other extreme of the Gary Stu piss-takes I'm doing. The first one was doing one that was just human. This one's about a godlike Gary Stu. And of course, there's badly written Romance, a load of Tactician Fantastico being perfect, and of course, mad Pent! HE BURNINATES J00 ALL!!!
Pent-True, dat. (sets people on fire)
Well, this'll be fun.
Chapter 1-The Perfect Beginning
The fortress loomed ominously, as Tactician Fantastico glided noiselessly through the mist, being so perfect that his feet didn't touch the ground. The mist parted slightly, being so much in AWE of his perfection that it didn't want to soak his perfectly shined boots.
No one knew much about his past, but seeing as he was so perfect, they suspected his parents were dead due to bandit attacks, he'd spent years perfecting his swordplay for revenge, and dealt it, which gave him his brooding (but perfect) personality. In actual fact, his swordplay didn't need perfecting. Nor did any of his weapons or magic skills. They were all so...perfect!
As were his chiselled features. All the women loved him, because of his perfect build, and perfect teeth, perfect hair, and other...perfect bits (losing heterosexuality as we speak here – Author's Note). His perfect clothes swished dramatically in the wind, and he started whistling a tune, although I don't need to say it, perfectly. Eventually, he tired of whistling and started singing. Perfectly.
"Cold was my soul
Untold was the pain
I faced when you left me
A rose in
the rain..."
The birds flew out of the trees, feeling offended that such a perfect voice would intrude in their woods.
"So I swore to the
razor
That never, enchained
Would your dark nails of faith
Be pushed through my veins again!"
On a nearby battlefield, two warring tribes, who would have previously wiped each other out over a wrongly placed matchstick (ironically, that WAS what they were arguing over), were now holding onto each other for support, crying at the beautiful voice that sung this song.
"Bared on your tomb
I'm a prayer for your loneliness
And would you ever soon
Come above onto me?
For once upon a time
On the binds of
your loneliness
I could always find the slot for your sacred
key!"
As he finished, it seemed as though everything sighed, and was in a state of calm. He moved on, towards the Black Fang Tactician Auditions.
- - -
Nergal looked down at the paper. "Alrighty, who's next, Brendan?"
Brendan looked. "Err...a Mr. Hardrid von Richtenstein, from Etruria."
Hardrid burst into the room, and even Nergal screeched like a girl.
Hardrid's pale features clung to his body as though it was life or death, and his teeth were remarkably pointy. His black cloak sweeped around him dramatically, knocking over some of the more expensive vases.
"Err...you need the next room, Sesame Street auditions...for the Count, right?"
As Hardrid left, he said "No...Big Bird. Duh..."
"God damn, he was scary..." Nergal said.
"I need to change my pants..." Brendan muttered.