One Sentance Story

[ClocktowerEchos]

"The subject is ready to be sacrificed to our lord." another voice, now much closer leaned over as Barnaby felt the table he was on moving.

[Witch Cat]

(I swear if this turns into a Harambe meme)

"He will be pleased, long live the glory of our Lord!" they chanted in unison. Barnaby is now thoroughly spooked.

[Myyt]

Enough.

[Doltboy]

What Barnaby didn't realise, was that they were initiates of the order of Harambe, intent upon bringing his soul back into this mortal coil; summoning him into a fleshsuit was the best way to find out what he wanted...

@Witch Cat - you asked for this...

[Myyt]

Harambe would be disappointed in you all

[Witch Cat]

"Harambe would be disappointed in you all" Barnaby screamed with the fury of the true Lord, Cecil the Lion. He summoned on the lion's power, obliterating the worshippers of the false god as he whispered, "Cunts out for Cecil"

@Doltboy I never asked for this

[Doltboy]

(I swear if this turns into a Harambe meme)

@Witch Cat

What did you expect?

[Myyt]

I don't know, some kind of.. .Spanish Inquisition?

[ClocktowerEchos]

I don't know, some kind of.. .Spanish Inquisition?

@Myyt

Khmer Inquisition best Inquisition

[Doltboy]

I don't know, some kind of.. .Spanish Inquisition?

@Myyt

Well, I feel it may have been rather unexpected.

[ArenaSnow]

Barnaby stared in horror at the crumbling ruins of the Fourth Wall.

[Doltboy]

Cue obligatory Deadpool fourth wall break reel!

[Witch Cat]

Barnaby now knows he is in a story, that he never is truly in control of his life. He becomes depressed and suicidal

[Doltboy]

Of course there's a reference video for that... Sorry Barnaby.

[ArenaSnow]

Barnaby realizes life is all an illusion, and suddenly looks at himself: a sorry collection of pixels beaten and bruised by a half dozen or so internet sadists.

[Witch Cat]

Barnaby suddenly sees a spot darkening in the corner of his vision, he is too scared to look directly at it, but still, he peeks at it like a scared child hiding behind his hands. His vision starts to fuzz as he swears he starts seeing something in that undefined mass of black. He sees hands, stroking away at a keyboard before abruptly stoppi-

[ArenaSnow]

The Story So Far...

Barnaby was a man with sleeping problems who had an excess of coffee and and clothing. He dreamed and dreamed, and one day found a job: a hit job. Accepting the job from his cheapskate uncle, he ventured into the world with a sword to take down a man named Mustermann, delayed a short time by a few bloody cops looking to see his sword license. He was offered a prize for his sword by a shadowy figure, an effort rewarded by his being cleaved in half and turning into a badass sword that was cursed with the inability to drink hot liquids Barnaby wouldn't bother drinking in the first place.

He went after Mustermann's cellar, to be intercepted by dogs, cats, and pretty fucking weird imps that turned out to be an illusion. He was instead met with cultists from the cult of Harambe, resulting in his discovery of a thing he had no idea existed called Twitter so he could tweet with an unnatural skill and-

Wake up the next morning to his own words of "Get this shit out of my spam" before discovering he was in a mental asylum surrounded by mysterious voices preparing to sacrifice him to... Harambe, the unjustness of which he raved against before realizing the existence of the Fourth Wall, or rather, its destruction, which threw his universe so out of order he lost faith in all existence and began to see the true reality, confronted with the strange visual of... was it.... a-

Huge pink fluffy dog that pinned him down to a soft white bed while seemingly ripping his face off with a scratchy, almost cat like tongue.

[Myyt]

What is this and who authorized this?

[Witch Cat]

"What is this and who authorised this?" he shouted at no one in particular, Barnaby's unblinking gaze scanned the room as he held his breath. No void, no harambe, no mental ward, he was finally in the real world, in control of his own life again. He jumped at the sound of a piercing loud beep but then sighed with relief, it was just his alarm.

6 am, time to go to work.

[ArenaSnow]

That was when the NSA burst through his door with a battering ram and a few dozen troopers with assault rifles.