Bangoria… a land torn by strife and war. Upon it’s shattered planes and rocky mountaintops the fires of battle burn like a bloody candlelight vigil for all the warriors who have fallen in the conflicts that sweep this ever changing land. Warriors, mercinaries, assassins and even more unsavory types constantly sell their blades and sometimes their very souls to the highest bidder all in the name of profit and a chance at spoils. Yet many also hope to change this world, make a difference for good but those guys are total pussies and we’re not going to talk about them. Nay, we shall talk only of the legendary man and women who grace this theater of death. Fir though the most well-known ones shall be revealed.
The most deadly and legendary warrior that roves this land is the mighty…. BEARMASTER.
The BEARMASTER skates into battle, on roller blades forged in the darkest mountain and infused with the blood of two liches, a red dragon, and a werebear. The skates, as he rolls across the land, leave a perpetual bloody streak on the ground, to signify that the BEARMASTER has been there. His weapons are two bears, that are attached to whips. The bears are named Cuddles and Fuzzywuzzy. In battle the BEARMASTER skates doing flips and turns while wiping his mighty whip bears into foes, causing them to suffer an instant mauling.
The BEARMASTER is a mysterious force, for he never seems to have any motive to these mauling attacks. His glorious tanned body and loincloth (woven from the hair of powerful swamp hags that he killed because they were ugly) forming a blur of flesh toned death as he buzz saws his way across the various battlefields. His long uncut blonde hair wafting dramatically in the wind as his bears maul his foes. Their blood splattering on his perfect white teeth that glisten brightly as he smiles enjoying the sheer carnage of war. His loincloth bulging with a possible erection, he is truly at home on the battlefield.
The BEARMASTER seems to just come out of nowhere, skating his way for justice. A force of good, murdering for fun and because he can to even the odds in the battles that may tip the scales of fate one day or another. His skate leaving bloody streaks in the soft grass or the deep snow as they wind their way north in search of peace and an explanation of his dark and mysterious past. For he was found in a cave and raised by bears, and therefore only know their mysterious ways. His whips were woven from the pelts of his slain bearparents, hardened in the boiling tears of rage that formed in his eyes when midget hunters laid their demon midgeteggs inside of them and ate them from the inside out when their cursed midgetspawn were born. Midgets are EVIL. Especially midgets named PATRICK. Those are the ones the BEARMASTER wants to murder (then rape) the most.
The BEARMASTER vowed revenge that day, revenge against the outside world that continues to force it’s way into nature. He is a force of nature himself, strong, deadly, and needlessly destructive. Skate forever north mighty BEARMASTER in search of the midgets who dared take your denmother away and her delicious bearmilk squiring teet. Skate on BEARMASTER. Skate on FOR JUSTICE.
(This was in the ‘drafts’ section for articles, apparently I started writing this thing while drunk or so bored I can’t remember what I was doing. Don’t ask, I don’t know.)
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