Amlan's Sword-Baccalaureate

A Story by Abishai100

A high-writer of fantasy is transported into a dark realm (Storm) where he must make for a 'revelation' concerning incomplete-distances...to life-readings of (border-lands) special teams!

An (incomplete) sword-fantasy drawn from the graphics/concepts of Conan the Barbarian (comics). Hope you like (and Merry Xmas!),

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Amlan had been a fan of fantasy-realms writing until he found himself in a dream-sleep vision adventure transporting him inside one of his fantastic read/write universes of distances to survival-sanity and sheer consciousness, a horrid interzone of war-and-blood called Storm where he connected with two sword-warriors, a man and a woman named Hyperion and Azalea who'd 'escort' him to a dark-castle where he'd have to extract a sanity for chemical/bio synthesis from an otherwise volatile 'universe' of dark anarchy, from which he'd draw a special superstition-tale worthy of social-media and cyber-writing forums shares.

AMLAN: "There I was, thinking I'd all the yearning for fantasy-exposure and 'education' breached when I'd this dream-transportation 'examination' through some portal to hellish chaos, where I was 'allied' to strangers (sworded!) and felt I'd recount this massive-attack of known-universe sanity (for bureaucracy)."

HYPERION: We'll be your guides, Amlan-man; Azalea and I; we're to a dark-castle.

AMLAN: What's the challenge, swordsman (Hyperion)?
HYPERION: The castle, ruled by a sorceress (Esmerelda), is near a fire-lake.

AMLAN: Where hapless souls are dumped (right?).

HYPERION: You got it, Amlan-man; we're to make for a creative adventure.

AMLAN: I get it; find hostages, dispel the fire-lake power; destroy the castle.

HYPERION: Without hype, Amlan-man (let's go...for your 'planet' bureaucracy).

AMLAN: This has all the font of Facebook-IQ, Hyperion (thanx!).

AZALEA: You're timid and sense your fright, by the frighteners of Storm (universe!).

AMLAN: You're really a sword-woman, I mean, for real (no?).

AZALEA: You said it; Hyperion's one-ally on Storm; to the dark-castle we head, man.

AMLAN: I get this funny-sense now this fire-lake is some Inferno-premonition, lady!

AZALEA: You said it; this is a region of darkness and volatile explosiveness (Hell).

AMLAN: Yet, here you are, a hostess of the fight(s), Azalea; you've got hard-bones!

AZALEA: Thanx...maybe you'll return to your 'electric' world (with arts).

AMLAN: I hope so...for dark-castle hyperbole, sword-lady (thanx!).

ESMERELDA (Sorceress): You say these wandering-spirits challenge my fire-lake IQ?

WIZARD: I swear, Sorceress; this is a time for your threat to dominion-control(s).

SORCERESS: Well, perhaps I'm being defied by the axes-hands of visitors from God.

WIZARD: We've dumped so many melt-fate souls into that lake, Esmerelda (hmm).

SORCERESS: Who's this hapless Amlan-fellow, Wizard?

WIZARD: My ball-premonition/intuition tells me it's a 'friendship' message-man.

SORCERESS: I own the volcano(s) of Storm; I run the dark-fate of bloody-death!

WIZARD: Maybe Amlan and Hyperion and Azalea seek to 'reverse' head loss, Ezzy.

SORCERESS (Esmerelda): This is 'bad' photo-synthesis designed to subvert my Hell.

WIZARD: Your evil deeds are untouchable...even for photo-synthesis, Sorceress.

SORCERESS: Regardless, station winged dark-angels...for decapitation (damn!).

Well, that dark-castle of Esmerelda the Sorceress was quite the evil place, even for that dark realm called Storm. This is what Amlan learned (fast) and thanked heavens for this escort provided by Hyperion/Azalea. After they rescued triumphantly three hapless would-be victims from the fire-lake near the castle itself, the trio of Storm-crusaders reached the castle, sneaked up the walls with ropes/hooks, and into the rooms where they used poison-darts and sword-magic to dispel the Sorceress-guards to demand a high-write for their fate of such heroics, to force 'Ezzy' into self-exile.

SORCERESS: Storm I own, for bio-ruins, without doubt(s), destroying sword-sciences!
AMLAN/HYPERION/AZALEA: We charge a water-world for your self-exile in minutiae.
SORCERESS: I'm to become a private 'scholar' of consciousness-meditations, for IQ?
AMLAN/HYPERION/AZALEA: Do this; for your 'kick' is breached, Sorceress.

SORCERESS: Damn silver-sword trekkers for a beryl-touchdown (in-time); fine!

AMLAN: "When I returned to my own Earth (realm); and decided to make 'toast' for my Storm-misadventure (Hyperion/Azalea) with a mod world-exchange 'reflective' culinary-treat soft/zesty (Indian) luchi-bread thanksgiving-diner plate chat(s) for the miracle of organic life, even in convoluted capitalism/cyber culture in the Western 'world' of incomplete-distances to media/transit 'paranoia' for everyday citizenry, I recounted the raw quality of chemistry/bio devastation on Storm...and thought (deeply/seriously) about the 'bread' of civilization-leviathan...for the 'shape(s)' of scientific plating."