An Emo Day for Eragon! (updated)

Far back in the distant past there reigned a group of drunk mentally disabled old men who rode Dragons. But a mighty peril fell across the world, named Craxnor the Demon Bat From Hell. So, after sobering up the Dragon Riders burnt down every forest in Alagaesia. Somehow, this insane plan worked and Craxnor starved to death. There was much rejoicing.

Unfortunately, many millenia later some crazy guy with an anger management problem killed all of the Riders. So now it lies to a teenager who believes himself to be an Emo to follow in the mighty Dragon Riders footsteps and return order to the land, as well as overcome his angst.

His name is Eragon,

This is his story.


Galbatorix was lounging in his throne in a very evil manner, sipping on a martini. Suddenly the doors to his palace burst open, startling Galbatorix and making him spill his martini in his beard.

It was Murtagh, running across the hall waving his arms and screaming. He ran to the foot of Galbatorix's throne, panting. Murtagh frowned at the little umbrella lodged in Galbatorix's beard.

Galbatorix glowered at him, "What is it, Murtagh?"

"Sire... Pickles is loose!"

A look of absolute terror took over the King's face. He leaped to his feet, brandishing a broom in the air, "OH MY GOD, WHERE IS HE?!"

A small pink cat suddenly leaped from outside onto the sill of an open window, and began to contentedly lick its paw.

Tears of fear flowed openly down Galbatorix's face, "PICKLES, DON'T DO THIS. PLEASE! I CAN GIVE YOU GOLD!"

The cat gave Galbatorix a curious look, then resumed its grooming.

Galbatorix raised a shaking hand and pointed his finger at the cat, "Shruikan, attack it!"

The gigantic black dragon hesitated for a moment, then threw itself across the hall at the cat. There followed five terrible minutes of Shruikan stomping around and breathing fire everywhere. Finally, the dragon relented. Pickles was no where to be seen.

Murtagh slowly crept out of his hiding place underneath the throne. He looked slowly around at the crumbling ruins of the Palace, "Pickles managed to escape. But he'll be back."

"Damn that troublesome cat," Galbatorix muttered "It shall not have any of my cat biscuits. They're mine!"

Murtagh dusted himself off, "Father, perhaps this would be a good time to check up on what Eragon is doing."

"Did you just call me Father?"

"You are, aren't you?"

"No, Morzan is! But do you want to know some really good dirt on Eragon?"

"No, wait! Let me guess..." Murtagh thought for a moment, "Oh! He's my brother."

Galbatorix looked shocked, "How'd you know?"

"I read the second book, dude."

Before the King could respond Durza strolled into the Palace, his black cloak billowing about him as he edged around a pile of rubble that was once a wall.

"Durza, what's up with the stupid looking cloak?" Galbatorix asked, "You look like a cross-dresser."

Durza gave a curt bow and said tersely, "I'm not so sure you are in position to question fashion, sire. You appear to have a little umbrella lodged in your beard."

The King gave a start and ripped the umbrella out of his beard, "Oh, that's from my martini! My beard is all ruffled now. It is in need of a trimming!"Galbatorix beckoned to a side door and called, "Salvador, I am in need of your services!"

There was a pause, then a little old Spanish woman with a limp began to slowly hobble toward the throne. Durza stared at her in confusion, "Who is this?"

"My barber!" Galbatorix exclaimed. He addressed the old woman, "My beard is in need of some grooming."

Salavador gave the King a blank look, "Si?"

The King sighed and pointed at his beard, "Beardo el-cutto, si?"

"Oh, bueno! Si signor." The old woman set to work on the King's beard with clippers and a razor.

Durza gave a groan, "Perhaps it is time we perv- I mean stalk, I mean uh... Watch Eragon."

"Excellent idea, Druza. We shall use my scrying glass!" The King procured from a his pocket a little mirror, which he fumbled with and then dropped on the floor.

Galbatorix looked at for a moment, then asked "Mirror mirror on the floor, who is the most handsome of them all?"

"Definitely not you, fatso." The mirror answered

"Uhm, we're looking for Eragon your Majesty," Durza told the King

"Fine! Mirror mirror on the floor, where is Eragon?"

"BREAK ME FATSO!" The mirror shouted

"Ok!" and the King stomped on the mirror, shattering it.

Durza wiped a hand across his face in exasperation, "How about we just look at Eragon through his window?"

"Great idea!"

And the three set off for the Varden Camp.