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Sir Lancelol versus the dungeons of internet horror
Thunder cracked over the mountain, but Sir Lancelol rode on. He examined the horizon as his steed raced onward through the woods. Darkness was approaching. The horizon had a crimson glow to it, much like the blood of his slain enemies.
But something was off about the woods this night. A smell in the air, foul like that of a fat man shitting his diaper whilst masturbating to a photo of himself. Was someone following him? He avoided looking behind him, but brought his whining nag to a stop and got off, unleashing his sword, Hot Rod, from its sheathe. The sword held an unquenchable thirst. Only Lancelol knew of what this foretold. Suddenly, prostitutes emerged from the Black Forest and dozens more poured through the woods to green him.
"Why have you invaded our forest, penniless knight?" The prostitute leader asked, an army of whores behind her.
"I...wha...huuh? How dare thee address a knight as such!" Lancelol barked. "I am Pimpopple, king of the queens. Give me your Hot Rod at once and I shall allow your passage."
He replied with a stern erection. "I am on my way to the dungeon of internet horrors, to slay the great dragon called Dickbutt. Now let me pass before we trade blows." He rubbed his chin. "Or after, but let me pass!"
"WHORES! GET HIM!" Yelled Pimpopple. The army of whores, some missing teeth, many missing hair, ran toward Lancelol.
A bolt of electric heat rushed into the knight's loins. Could this be it? Were girls finally into him?
He saw them draw their daggers.
Lancelol frowned. "Welp..."
Lancelol readied his mighty sword as the first wave of slutty legions rushed toward him in a bow-legged stampede. His Hot Rod began to glow, and it even elongated to thrice its original size.
"Now," said Lancelol, "I am ready!" Just then, the NFL theme began to play and the 49ers rushed to the scene, taking down every ho and hum right to the dirt.
Lancelol, reminded of his teenage years, screamed in anxiety as the jocks tackled all the girls. "Not this time, you vapid cunts!" He screamed. Fire and lightning erupted from his sword, melting both armies in front of him.
But Pimpopple revealed herself from behind Lancelol, her dagger poised at his nag's throat. "Surrender or the horse dies."
"My...no! N-not Pony!" cried Lancelol at her threatening threat.
"Then I shall need your Rod, knight. Just as it is. Fresh. Hard. Warm..." replied the Harlot. Just then, Lancelittle, Lancelol's duffus midget sidekick, jumped into action. He thrust Hot Rod straight into the hearts of both the combatants. Lol, lil fucker.
Lancelol clapped his hands like a downie. "Lancelittle! Where have you been hiding all this time?"
"Heh! Hehe! In your giant satchel!! Heh!" Replied Lancelittle.
"Damn it, son. I am serious!" replied Lancelol.
"Heh! No, seriously! Heh! The satchel on your horse! Look!" Lancelol's eyes widened as he noticed the gash in his nag. Lancelittle had been sleeping inside of his horse and following him on his travels!
Lancelol grabbed his sewing needle from his pouch and turned to the nag. "Don't worry Blundlepuss, I'll stitch that gaping wound right up."
But the nag fell to the ground, blood spilling out like a river.
"How do we get to the mountain now?" Lancelittle asked.
Lancelol looked to the horizon. The mountain of internet horror was still very far away. And with no horse, the only way through would be through the tunnel of facebook. "This won't be easy." He said.
And so Lancelol and his tiny sidekick ventured toward the tunnel entrance. With a second heart in his right chest keeping his pumped, the Lancefamily ventured forth to the cave.
Meanwhile, in his inner sanctum from the bowels of the dungeon, the dragon named Dickbutt summoned forth his best lieutenants for a staff meeting. "Lord Skeletard, Wiztable, Duke Derp, do you know why I have summoned you here today?"
Lord Skeletard looked to the others, his boney chin quaking with fear. "Why, your honorificness?"
"There is a knight afoot with his sights set on the Mountain of Internet Horror. OUR HOME!"
"Ah, y-y-yes, Most Vile. My apologies!" Cried Skeletard. Wiztable continued to DJ some mad beats from his round table in the back. This displeased Dickbutt, for he needed attention and hence he was the leader.
Dickbutt adjusted himself on the throne. "But killing this knight will not be a simple matter. Bring in the prophet!"
A door opened from behind the lieutenants and a crippled old man was brought in, riding a red scooter. "Yes, the propechy, your horribleness. This knight wields Hot Rod."
The crowd gasped in awe. "The Hot Rod..." they collectively murmured.
"Yes, dear fiends...The Almighty Hot Rod, and it is in the arms of someone capable. Someone...dedicated to eradicating the viles of The Internet!!" The prophet responded.
"But sir," interjected Skeletard, "I do not see myself as vile. In fact, I work for you to serve my family. In fact, I believe it demeaning and it puts us in unfavorable odds should we see ourselves as those destined to be defeated due to antagonistic connotations."
"An excellent point. In fact," replied Dickbutt. "I'm going to have you lead this operation. Your moral justifications may serve us in this. We must remove the knight from his path but we cannot allow him to bring Hot Rod here unless it is in one of our hands. Be sure you have the moral high ground or we will all surely die. Any other questions?"
"How...um..." Skeletard hesitated.
"WHAT! Speak now, Skeletard! Your opportunity is dwindling!" Commanded the Vile Lord Dickbutt. Skeletard could not lie any longer to these men. "Sir, I am Lancelol's brother. My name was once Lancetard. The money you pay me pays for his wellbeing, as he is unemployed and cannot take care of himself nor his own family." Skeletard took a big gulp of air.
Dickbutt scowled in hate, but then stopped in thought. "Brother, you say? Sieze him!"
Skeletard was tackled by the others and put in chains.
Dickbutt pondered. "A hostage..." "Yes...a hostage will do quite well...muha...MUHAHAHAHA!"
Leeroy Jenkins surveyed the mountain range. He had heard a rumor that there be gold deep within, and if not gold, then chicken. "COME ON CHUMPS, LETS DO IT!" He yelled as he rushed down from the summit. "Quiet, you oaf," Samantha Drains, sorceress of seweria, said, tightening her bikini plate armor. "They'll hear us. Now here's the plan, we go in slow and each of us takes a different route. I'll go in from the flank while you cause a distraction out front. Ready?"
"I'M READY FOR ANYTHING!!" Cried Jenkins, his jovial, juvenile spirit twisting Samantha's nerves into coils. +++
Lancelol and his midget son crawled through the cracks, especially Lancelittle--he didn't even have to crawl. A large door stood before them, flame lighting up the room to reveal it. Two guards stood by.
"You may ask two questions to find out which of us is lying. Answer correctly and you may pass."
Above them, a large neon sign read "Tunnel of Facebook."
Lancelol stroked his chin for several minutes, first looking toward Lancelittle, then back at the guards. "All right, then. What is this place?"
"This is the Tunnel of Facebook," answered one guard.
"This is the Tunnel of The Facebook" answered the second guard.
"Hmmm..." Lancelol pondered. He knew this would be a challenging game of wits, but he knew not how quickly it would become engaged.
"So which of the two of you is homosexual?" asked Lancelittle as their final question. The guards tightened their buttocks as they felt the discomfort of accusation.
Off to the side, Lancelittle perked up. "Hold on. I have a question."
The guards both turned in unison to face the midget.
"Are you allergic to arrows?"
One guard nodded, the other shook his head.
Lancelittle pulled a shortbow from his back and shot them both in the throat.
One fell to the ground, gurgling at the blood dripping from the neck.
Lancelittle turned to Lancelot. "He was the honest one."
"Thou has proven thyself once again, Lancelittle. Here," Lancelol stated, pulling a baked treat from his inventory, "have this biscuit I swiped from that foul maiden earlier."
"OH GOODY!" Cried the young Lance-kin, his cheeks swelling with joy. The treat was laced with viagra.
Lancelol descended upon the honest guard and snatched the keys to the door. But... they wouldn't fit into the lock???? "B-but...he was...the honest one," Lancelol muttered, his lower lip quivering.
"Perhaps not. Look at this!" shouted young Lancelittle. He pointed to a small hole in the abdomen of the deceiving guard. He had been shot! Mein Gott!
A gust of wind entered the cave and moved the doors. Apparently, they hadn't bothered to nudge them even just a little, lol. From behind, they heard a sobbing. The remaining guard wiped a single tear from his face. "I'm not sad at all that you killed my brother. The door is locked, you'll never get in."
Lancelol pushed aside the unlocked door. "Let's leave this wuss to his delicious tears, young buddy."
Ahead, though, the tunnel opened up to a vast farm. A man in overalls and wielding a pitchfork greeted them and escorted them into the village. "Welcome to Farmville, would yall allow us access to your friends and family? It's required, I reckon."
"What manner of beasts be thee!?" Lancelol exclaimed.
"Heh. They're kinda cool!" Lancelittle remarked.
"Silence, lad! If I hear thee speak in such a manner ever again I shall smite the very tongue you use for speech!" Lancelol boldly threatened.
Lancelittle boldly petted a nice plump cow and planted the seeds of despair upon Farmville. Just then, a flame-painted tractor came roaring through the cavern towards them, An orange-skinned man at the wheel, with a face set upon kissing all before it. "Greetings, neighbor! Welcome to Farmville. You may pass as soon as you give me a list of all your friends and family!"
"And who are you?" Lancelol asked.
"I'm the mayor of Farmville."
"Any other options."
"I don't reckon."
"Very well," the knight said, scribbling on a parchment. "Here's a list of all my friends and family"
"Jenson!" the orange man yelled. "Send out runners!"
"To spam your friends and family that you're in trouble and need them here right away, of course."
"Um...? I'm sorry?"
"See, we here like at the Farm like to employ certain...tactics..." the mayor said with a menacing grin.
Upon the end of the mayor's sentence, out came a dozen other citizens of Farmville, clad in cartoonish clothes and frightening grins...slowly...slowly approaching Lancelol. Lancelol giggled, struck a pose, and bellowed "Lancelittle! I choose you!"
Lancelittle jumped in front of the other midgets and screams "La la, Lalil!" Lancelittle used Fissure!
It's super effective!
Confusion filled Lancelol's tiny brain. What was going on? Why were they attacking them. He reached for Hot Rod. "Let us pass!"
The mayor nodded. "Sure, but first you need your very own farm. Pick from these plots and choose your livestock."
Lancelittle used fissure again and it collapsed every plot of land upon itself, taking all the kittens of the Internet with it. Now, before Lancelol stood a treacherous series of thin ledges and cliffs, all that remained of Farmville, and littered with the slippery blood of kittens and old tractor oil.
The mayor shrugged. "Send out runners alerting all of this knight's friends and family that his farm has been levelled and he needs assistance."
"Enough of this," Lancelol said. "Let's move."
The torture level of Dickbutt's dungeon stank of blood and maggots. Skeletard examined the shackles binding him to the dripping stone walls.
"This place is disgusting," Skeletard whispered unto himself, "I wouldn't be caught dead working shifts in this area of the lair. Pitiful. Guard. GUARD!"
A nearby guard shuffled toward Skeletard, his oversized armor wearing heavy upon his tiny frame.
"Guard, give me water! I thirst!" demanded skeletor.
Then the guard water-boarded him. Ugugugg.
The putrid water, taken from the washbuckets of a thousand porn-room mops, gagged Skeletard as he struggled against his chains. "Tell us everything there is to know about your brother, and this will end." said the torturer, Hagbib.
"I know nothing!" Skeletard exclaimed.
There was a knock at the window. It was a farmer of some sort, wearing overalls and a straw hat.
"...the hell is that?" the guard questioned, positioning his ocular orbs toward the glass pane. "Who goes there!?"
Silence. The guard began quivering in his boots. "Is this someone you summoned to you raid, Skeletard!?"
"What? Farmville in ruins? It Lancelol is moving quickly! " He said. "tell me what you know now, and he may be spared the horrors of the Labyrinth of the Lolcats. Continue to resist, however, and I shall make no promises." "Very well," Skeletard sank in the wooden rack. "I'll talk"
Back at the entrance to the dungeon, Leeroy and Samantha were ready to breach.
"Okay, just like I said. Nice and slow. We move in quietly, I sneak around the side and you pick them off from the front."
"Got it. Nice and slow and quiet." Leeroy replied.
"Stick to the plan." Samantha sternly cautioned Leeroy, who nodded.
Echoing in the distance behind them, Lancelol and Lancelittle could hear the faint cry of chicken-addled barbarian. It resounded off the walls of the cavern, and the stalactites shook.
"we'd best be moving on" lancelol said. "we'll have to take these bloody cliffs by force."
Millions of kittens stood before our heroes, some holding cheeseburgers. Lancelittle was scarred and hid behind his father, despite the extreme urge to pet one. Lancelol bravely brandished the Hot Rod, and its white, filmy light emanated out across the cavern, revealing a great labyrinth just beyond the ruined Farmville cliffs. The kittens had survived after all, and were back for Cheezburgery revenge on all that was grammatically correct.
Lancelittle grew some balls and pet the nice kittens. They purred. He asked his father, "can I has kitty plox?"
Lancelol allowed it. And so with his massive army they began to navigate the Labyrinth of Lolzords. Even under the light of the Hot Rod's sticky glow, the labyrinth was dark, with the sullen shadows penetrating every crevasse. The great cat army, however, seemed unaffected. Their unnerving mews echoed off the walls, as they followed Lancelol. He slowly advanced through the maze. +++
Samantha fell of the mountain top and died. Leeroy anguished. "It was not meant to be," he thought. "I shall be... forever alone." A trollish grin then followed his sad tears of despair. Onward!
+++ A great shudder drew down the spine of the great Dickbutt, as he learned of Farmville's defeat. Their mighty war tractors would be greatly missed. the Hot rod was coming closer. Luckily, Skeletard's wails of confession were echoing strong. He had his secret weapon. With Oinkwell, his mighty flesh-light crafted from the remains of Skeletard, he would find defense against Hot Rod. Flame on.
"Do even know where we're going."
"dammit, lancelittle, for the last time, I've got this!" Lancelol said, fuming. He had thought that only staying to the right would guide him through the labyrinth safely. It seemed now, however, that logic held now sway in this weird land of the Basement cat.
Just then, a bellow of "IT'S A TRAP" echo'd through the chambers as Hovercat and Bro-dog assaulted our heroes in the damning maze.
Hot Rod destroyed every cat in the hall with gallant precision. Only Lancelittle's cheeseburger cat remained. It was an ugly scene. Not ugly like Roseanne Barr, rather a sort of horrifying ugliness that tore at the soul.
Skeletard lay weeping in his jail cell.
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