Wow this browser’s been open for 3 days straight. . . im so lazy. . . XD

MMOT has a private server??!?!?

Oh yeah, @ FunnyFroggy, i live in California. . . want my exact address?
401 South Harvard Blvd
Los Angeles
California
90020

^^

(OMG I FOUND OUT HOW TO DO TEH DIVIDER THING !)

The Forbidden Sword .:2

They hesitated, glancing at each other. Finally, they ran at him, raising their weapons. The momentum carried the boy forward, as he jumped forward and cut clean through. He felt the blade break through soft flesh, then cut bones like butter in an upward stroke.

Three left…

The policemen formed a circle around him, raising their weapons, trying to find a weak point.

The sword surged forward, almost with a will of its own.

A body toppled down to the ground, breathing no more. The third man tried to sneak behind him. He just flipped the sword, and the attacker ran into it. Then the boy pulled out the sword, and threw it at the last person. As soon as the sword left his hands, he felt a pain, a yearning to get it. Gasping, he pulled it out from the now dead man’s forehead. Relief flooded back into him as he slid the sword into its hilt, not bothering to clean it.

What have I done? He wondered aloud as he saw the dead bodies strewn around him.

He looked at the sword innocently in his hands, and knew it was magical. Somehow.

He knew more would come, so he quickly ran out into the street, trying to look casual. He was walking back to his home, when someone shouted.

“Ey, You!”

****, another one?!

He turned and looked at a man he vaguely remembered. He was fat, with a long, brown beard hanging from his double chin.

“Your the boy that stole my fruit the other day!”

Oh yeah, that guy.

He turned and ran, as the man followed, waving his arms.

He slipped into the crowd, and quickly lost the stall owner. He was walking home when he tripped over someone’s clumsy foot, and sprawled to the ground. Suddenly he felt rough hands grabbing at him, taking his sword. Rage took hold of him, and he blindly flailed out, and felt some satisfaction when he heard his punches connect. He got up, and saw three older boys, maybe two, three years older than him gasping for breath on the ground.

He nervously looked around and saw at least 20 people surrounding him, whispering among themselves. Someone pushed his way through the crowd.

“What the hell happened to you guys?” He asked.

“That faggot beat us up for no reason!”

Astonished, the man turned and looked at the boy.

“You got beat up by this punk? You little pussies!”

Trying to redeem himself, one of the children tried to tackle him from behind. He pulled out his sword almost unconciously and stabbed the other boy in the face.

Horrified, the man cussed at him, gathered his “gang” and ran away.

The crowd quickly dispersed, not wanting to be near him. Sighing, he trudged home, and lay down.

*A couple days later*

He was walking home after a successful day of pickpocketing and wanted to show his crew what he got. He turned onto his street, but stopped abruptly when he saw International Maple Police, or the I.M.P. flocking around his building. He gripped his sword hilt harder, and walked closer.

He saw his closest and only friends being kicked on and shoved into the back of a truck.

He had to help. He silently whipped out his sword, a fire burning in his eyes. He ran at the first I.M.P he saw and slashed at his open back. Another, he stabbed through the side, pulled out the sword, and immediately turned and slashed the head off. The police started to surround him, pulling out dangerous looking weapons. Still, he killed more. Slash, downward stab; all these things came passively to him.

Soon, much more reinforcements arrived carrying snipers and whatnot, and he was forced to run away, forced to leave behind his only friends, his only home, and his only life.

End Pt 2.