RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARC II: THE LEGEND OF THE FORBIDDEN BURIAL GROUNDS

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This topic contains 56 replies, has 22 voices, and was last updated by  Anne of Lothlorien 2 days, 13 hours ago.

Viewing 12 posts - 46 through 57 (of 57 total)
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  • #89536

    @mariposa, I can’t wait for part two!

    "Hurry! Reading is fun!" Jinto Queb
    "Words are fires. Use them wisely." Vip, my tiny dragon

    #89607

    Jessi Rae
    @jessi-rae

    @mariposa Thanks! 😀 And the funny thing is, I’m sure my mom would agree… *glances to bookshelf at books I’ve “borrowed” from her* XD

    "How did I escape? With difficulty. How did I plan this moment? With pleasure."

    #89632

    Mariposa Aristeo
    @mariposa

    Guess what, everyone? It’s time for RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARC II: LEGEND OF THE FORBIDDEN BURIAL GROUNDS PART 3!!!

    Enjoy the laughter! *evil grin*

    For those of you who have missed portions of this saga, you can click here for the first installment and here for the second.

    @jessi-rae @daeus-lamb @j-a-penrose @supermonkey42 @karthmin @savannahgrace @maddiejay @catwing @brandon-miller @josiah @anne-of-lothlorien @evelyn

    “Sorry, Pennsylvania, but Edna ate the clue to the arc,” Storm apologized as they barreled out the door.

    “Oh, wow! I thought I’d lost that clue!” Pennsylvania exclaimed.

    “Is that why you didn’t want to go searching for the arc?” Storm straightened her violet cowboy hat and hopped on her mustang while the others untied their horses.

    Pennsylvania scratched his head. “No—I’d forgotten I even had a clue.”

    Edna rolled her eyes, then climbed on Pennsylvania’s shoulder and smacked a bandaid on his forehead to fix his broken memory.

    Grabbers glanced into the valley; a wall of dust headed their way. “Hurry! They’re coming!”

    Everyone saddled up and started to leave when Storm reared up her horse. “Wait! Nebraska’s still in there!”

    “Nebraska!” everyone hollered. “Get down here!”

    Nebraska peeped out of one of the upper windows. “No!” he retorted, crossing his arms. “You can’t fire me if you can’t find me!” His head disappeared from view.

    “I’m not firing you!” Pennsylvania assured him. “I can’t afford to with all these females around.”

    The females glared at him.

    “I don’t believe it!” Nebraska hollered from inside.

    Hopeless shifted her weight, peering at the incoming war party. It’d be upon them in minutes if they didn’t rush it.

    Pennsylvania groaned. “Listen, if you come out, I’ll raise your pay!”

    Nebraska’s head popped up. “How much?”

    “Enough to buy five hundred balloons.”

    Nebraska rubbed his chin in thought. “Too much.”

    “Too much!” Pennsylvania roared, nearly ready to kill Nebraska so he wouldn’t have to fire him and go back on his word, which was against the cowboy code.

    “If you pay me that much, you won’t be able to afford it, and then you’ll fire me!” Nebraska ducked out of sight again.

    A flaming arrow in the shape of a pen zoomed past them and pierced the window where Nebraska had last appeared. Flames spread across the roof like self-doubt spreading across a writer’s mind. Nebraska leapt out the window, finally coming to his senses. His pants caught fire, so he rolled in the dirt to dash out the flames before he was roasted alive.

    Martin leaned forward, holding out his hand. “We figured if we couldn’t fire you, we could at least set you on fire.”

    “Thanks,” Nebraska muttered as Martin hefted him up on his horse. Indian war cries sounded and everyone stampeded off as if their pants were on fire like Nebraska’s.

    “Quick! Over the ridge! A rock formation called Writer’s Block is up ahead; we can hide up there!” Hopeless bounded ahead of them.

    Arrows rained down on them like hail. One pierced Pennsylvania’s shoulder. He went limp and almost tumbled off his horse.

    Storm came alongside him. “Can you make it?”

    He took a deep breath, yanking the arrow out of his arm. “I’m fine; this isn’t anything compared to your edits.”

    The gang swerved up the ridge into the rock formation. Everyone slid off their horses and readied themselves with rifles, pistols, knives, and swords.

    Pennsylvania glanced at the sword in Hopeless’s hand. “You can’t use that, this is a western—”

    The deathly chant of writer war drums sifted through the atmosphere. Everyone hushed. The wind stilled. Indians lined the ridge, surrounding them from every side.

    An Indian who looked like an owl gave a loud hoot and all the Indians pounded toward them.

    Bang! Bang! Bang!

    Everyone’s guns went off—or almost everyone’s.

    “Why aren’t you shooting?” Storm scolded, staring at Savannah. “We need every writer we can get!”

    “I-I-I…” she stuttered, staring at the deconstructed pistol in her hands. “I would, but I kinda, uh, broke my gun. But don’t worry, I can make this into a really fab plot point if you give me enough time.”

    The hooting Indian leapt on the rock and aimed an arrow at Nebraska’s head. Gracie the Kid saw him and squirted her watercolor gun at the Indian’s eyes just as the arrow grazed Nebraska’s skull. The Indian shrieked, rubbing his burning eyes, and fell backward. Gracie dodged flying arrow pens to reach Nebraska.

    “You okay?” she asked, resting her elbow on a rock.

    “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, kid.” Nebraska smiled as she tied a handkerchief around his forehead to stop the bleeding. “You don’t seem so bad. Whatever possessed you to get in with those balloon terrorists?”

    Gracie squirted a couple Indians climbing up. “I don’t know; never had many books growing up. Always had to borrow them from libraries…and I just wanted some of my own.” She sighed, peering at her pouch of stolen books.

    Nebraska sniffled. He never felt sorrier for anyone than those who didn’t have any books. But he soon felt sorrier for himself as more Indians neared the rock formation.

    “Oh no! What do we do?” Storm bit her nails, ruining her sparkly violet nail polish. “I don’t have an ideas!”

    “Why do you think this is called Writer’s Block?” Hopeless pulled the sword out of her belt, readying herself for the attack, but instead the Indians scrambled down the rock.

    “Woohoo!” they all yelled, hugging each other (or, rather, the extroverts all hugged each other while the introverts calmly shook each other’s hands).

    “That’ll teach those pen throwers not to mess with us!” Cinders smirked.

    Hopeless didn’t share their jubilee.

    “What’s the matter with you? You look hopeless.” Maddie put her hand on her hip.

    “They’re aren’t retreating—look.” Hopeless pointed. They all squinted toward the horizon. The silhouette of a feathered crown rode up on a painted pony. They all covered their mouths, terror filling their hearts.

    It was Chief Shortbeard of the Raspberree tribe.

    TO BE CONTINUED…

    #89633

    Fun!

    "Hurry! Reading is fun!" Jinto Queb
    "Words are fires. Use them wisely." Vip, my tiny dragon

    #89638

    Evelyn
    @evelyn

    Oh goodness… the reference to the podcast episode… 😂😂😂😂👍

     

    #89684

    Ariel Ashira
    @ashira

    He took a deep breath, yanking the arrow out of his arm. “I’m fine; this isn’t anything compared to your edits.”

    XD That is the best line.

    "No matter how much it hurts, how dark it gets, or how hard you fall, you are never out of the fight."

    #89704

    Daeus Lamb
    @daeus-lamb

    *shakes head* 😀

    😀
    👕👍
    👖 🐢🐢🐢🐢🐢

    #89705

    EricaWordsmith
    @ericawordsmith

      Oh help. *Promply rolls over and dies*

      THIS IS SO STINKING AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

      Tek an ohta! Tek an cala!

      #89709

      J.A.Penrose
      @j-a-penrose

      @mariposa Every time. XD

      “Woohoo!” they all yelled, hugging each other (or, rather, the extroverts all hugged each other while the introverts calmly shook each other’s hands).

      = A summary of when online writing people finally get to meet each other.

      Writer | Freelance editor
      Inspiration

      #89747

      Jessi Rae
      @jessi-rae

      @mariposa I think Pennsylvania was a bit clueless in the beginning… XD And I loved the reference to the podcast, and setting Nebraska on fire, and just everything! Great portion, as usual! 😀

      "How did I escape? With difficulty. How did I plan this moment? With pleasure."

      #89755

      Catwing
      @catwing

      @mariposa I love all of it!

      An Indian who looked like an owl gave a loud hoot and all the Indians pounded toward them.

      Owl-like? *tries to think of any Emberites who are owl-like* Is it me? Maybe? *kitty-cat eyes* :3 (It’s totally fine if it’s someone else. I’m just wondering.)

      Gracie squirted a couple Indians climbing up. “I don’t know; never had many books growing up. Always had to borrow them from libraries…and I just wanted some of my own.” She sighed, peering at her pouch of stolen books.

      *is also someone who mostly reads books from libraries and RARELY buys them* This is great. XD

      “How much?”

      “Enough to buy five hundred balloons.”

      Me: How much is that? $500? $1,000? $250? $5?
      If anyone was wondering… 500 balloons cost $41.19 if you buy in bulk. …That was very random… 😛

      Anyway, this is another epic and hilarious part! I look forward to more!

      When your wings are weak and you feel like you can't fly any farther you're halfway there!

      #89768

      Anne of Lothlorien
      @anne-of-lothlorien

        “General Shortbeard of the Raspberee Tribe”…

        I just died.

        An almost high-school graduate with an obsession with words.
        I spend too much money on books.

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