Author's Note - Just want to give a shoutout to the one person who voted. Top 1 of the Top Dank Percent, you must really be something. Haha, no, it's cool fam. I can write it with the characters I picked out, but audience interaction would be a great way to start the story, and with a competition like Total Drama Island, it could almost surely be incorporated into the story. As far as this story goes, I enjoy each chapter more than the previous. But at the same time, there's limits to what I can write here. Sadly, because of that, the story feels all too predictable to me. Like, you all know what happens already. The only shock factor I have going for me is how I kill off some characters, and even that is limited. So! I resolve to make this story as interesting as possible, for as long as it lasts. However, I don't picture this being as long as I once did, so don't be surprised if it ends around Chapter 20 or 30ish. Actually, thinking about it, 25 Chapters and an Endgame would be almost perfect. That's what I'm aiming for, now. Boy, this has been a long author's note. I'm sorry for that. Without any further ago, here is Chapter 9! I sincerely hope it is entertaining! -1%
Sully fought as hard as she could. She punched, kicked, screamed, and even but the Risen as it picked her up by her hair. It, like before, seemed to be smiling.
"You... Fool... No... Physical... Harm... Can... Come... To... Meeeeee..."
"Well, you obviously haven't had my particular brand of physical pain, then, you motherfucking asshole!" Sully through all of her weight into the Risen. He didn't even budge. She realized, with fear, that she might truly be done for. She had always thought she was invincible, at least subconsciously. Sure, others could die. Hell, she had seen her husband downed not fifteen minutes earlier. But not her. Never her. Fuck, she still wasn't ready. The Risen made a move to grab her throat, and Sully closed her eyes, bracing for the inevitable demise that awaited her, and praying to Naga it wouldn't hurt.
Hearing his mother's voice, Laurent emerged from Nah's room. He instructed Lucina not to follow him,which he knew she wouldn't. She was too preoccupied with the other children, particularly her younger brother. Besides, she could only fight on the front lines. Laurent had a tome. He figured that his location should be quite dependable should the shit hit the fan. And besides. His mother would protect him. He calmly walked down the hallway to the staircase, and arrived just in time to see his mother's head explode from the blunt force of a ranged, physical attack. Laurent froze. He looked down at the time she had given him, what seemed moments prior.
'Fire.' He thought. 'How aptly named. It astutely summarizes the feeling of rage I currently embody.' He heard the Risen speak about it's immunity to physical wounds. Under different circumstances, he might have laughed. He had only thought such clichés occurred in terrible literature. But, he was much to angered to find it entertaining in the least. He opened the tome just as the Risen was reaching for Sully, and softly uttered the mystical word within it.
"Fire."
The hand around her throat burned. At first, Sully thought the pain was from having her fucking throat crushed, but when she opened her eyes, she saw that the hand was actually on fire. And still, it squeezed. 'Fucking perfect...' She thought as she closed her eyes again, drifting into a deep black sleep. However, she wasn't dead. Not yet, at least.
Laurent watched emotionlessly as the Risen combusted. When it turned to ash, he calmly went up to the pile, and spat upon it. It was only them that he noticed Sully.
'How deplorable.' He thought, accessing her wounds. He was no healer, and frankly, didn't give a damn. He heard footsteps come rushing up the stairs, along with unintelligible chatter, and, without thinking, cast fireball towards the source of the sound. It hit the first as soon as it emerged from the rather long staircase, but it didn't collapse.
Donnel led the charge up the stairs as soon as they reached them. Were it any other time, Frederick would not have allowed him to do this, but both his wife and son were up there, and Frederick knew that he would have done the same, were he Donnel.
"Miriel!" Donnel hollered at the bottom of the staircase. "Laurent! Y'all just hand on up there! Imma comin' fer ya!"
Donny sprinted up the stairs, with Frederick close on his heals. Lissa was rather far behind him, and Tharja even further. Were there an army of Risen up there, Frederick thought that they were royally screwed. Up the ass. But... There was nothing. It puzzled Frederick, but up the staircase, they saw no sign of the Risen at all. Except, of course, for Stahl's mangled and broken corpse, which instilled new fear into Frederick, but on the large, he chose to ignore that. They neared the top.
Frederick was looking right at Donnel when it happened. He could scarcely believe it, but the boy's head caught fire, seemingly instantaneously.
Donnel reached the top of the stairs, hoping against hope he would see his wife or son, and not an army of Risen when he looked. However, looking was one of the many things he would no longer be able to do. Laurent's fireball caught him straight in the face, and he was blinded immediately. He screamed, as loud as he could. The heat was so intense, but the pain was even worse. He felt his pot melting upon his skull, and realized how much trouble he really was in. Clawing at his face, he ran around blindly, until he tripped in something wet, and fell flame first into the ground. He clawed at his face still, and much to his horror, the skin came off. Only, it wasn't skin. Ash was all that remained of his face, and Donnel found that the pain wasn't there any more. He tried to call out to his wife, to no avail, as he found he could no longer move. In fact, he could no longer do anything. Donny though his last thoughts as his soul left his body, accidentally murdered by his own son.
Virion's arms were placed rather comfortably around his wife's waist. She could do nothing about it, as she was currently flying a wyvern, but found it a highly inappropriate time for him to make his advances, which he was doing. It was more that their son was behind Virion than anything else.
"Dear." She whispered. "There's a time and place for everything. But not now."
"Ah, but my sweet Cherche, you misinterpret my intentions! I am merely holding on to you, for the sake of my life! I would not care to die, and place such dreadful ruin upon that face of yours."
"2 problems with your theory. 1. Gerome is doing fine without holding onto you."
"Ah, my love, he has a way with wyverns. He gets it from you, you know! Imagine it. Our son, striking fear into the hearts of hundreds, nay thousands of enemies, his very name striking fear into their hearts. Rather noble, isn't it."
"...I-I Suppose. But, um, Virion? Your hands aren't even around my waste anymore. If you would be so kind as to remove yourself from my pants, it would be much appreciated."
"Wha-?" Virion realized what he was doing, and removed his hands from his wife's pants. "I am sorry, dear. It was instinct I swear! I did not mean to!"
"It's fine Virion. It isn't like you haven't done worse."
He breathed a sigh of relief.
"However, Minerva wasn't to fond of it. You must apologize to her when we land, but be weary. She's hungry."
Virion gulped, and said nothing for the rest of the trip to Rosanne.
Gerome sat behind his father, tears running down his face. He didn't need this shit.