Posts from A wonderfully kind contest.

plans

I was writing "Hurma" as I went along, without knowing in advance what would happen next. Besides, such additions do not affect the chronology of events, unlike an expanded version, which describes what happened on one of the days. On the other hand, "Heroesland" is based on "Weskerland" and partially on the events I described last year. And you are writing fan fiction based on it :smile04:

fanfiction based on fanfiction

Let's make Heroes of Might and Magic Online a separate fandom!

Let's make Heroes of Might and Magic a separate fandom!

fanfic based on a fanfic

A fanfic is not just any post with some kind of story; it's a story based on some existing work. I wasn't referencing anything specific when I wrote it (actually, not once in all those stories – fantasy, sci-fi, and whatever else was there?), and therefore they are original worlds. :cool: It's a bit too pompous, perhaps, for creations like these, but the essence is the same.

Wesker calmly sat in his chair in his top-secret bunker, watching TV and finishing another bottle of wine. Vials with toxic chemicals bubbled rhythmically, computers with graphs on the monitors hummed quietly. The self-esteem and self-confidence of the former king were millions of times greater than his confidence in the security systems, so Wesker was absolutely calm about his safety. He was calm until a barely noticeable smoke filled the room. Trying to get up and quickly figure out what was happening, Wesker noted with displeasure that he couldn't move.
- What, having problems? - about ten people in special forces uniforms with rifles at the ready ran into the room, and behind them came a man in a strict suit. They were all wearing gas masks. The man in the suit approached Wesker and, taking out a syringe gun, injected some kind of drug into his neck, and then took off the former king's glasses.
- You know, buddy, you were a walking cheat with your virus. Bullet evasion, regeneration, strength... Wave goodbye to that. Oh, I forgot, you can't move. Well, then don't wave. The point is, my people have developed an antivirus. Especially for you. Now you are just an ordinary person again. Only your DNA is terribly damaged. One more attempt to change it - and you will fall apart into the smallest particles. That's how it is, Wesker. Or should I call you Ling? - the man laughed and beckoned one of the "special forces" to him.
- Have you caught all the scientists?
- Yes, boss. No one had time to react and do anything.
- Excellent. Kill them all. Erase the information from all computers, and then destroy the hard drives. Destroy all virus samples in containers.
- Yes, boss, - the subordinate nodded.
- Has the nerve gas dissipated?
The "special forces" man looked at his watch, and then took off his gas mask.
- Yes, boss, everything is clear.
- Excellent, you're free.
The armed man left, and Hostor, taking off his gas mask, turned back to the man sitting in the chair.
- Sorry, I forgot about you. Although this is logical. Everything was fine - you ruled, the economy was developing, I didn't put pressure on anyone, didn't get greedy and received good money. But then... you ruined everything! You literally betrayed me - you forgot about all the agreements, broke the rules, stole money from the common fund for your crazy research! I was disappointed in you, in your policies, in your connections with a bunch of losers... You really upset me, Ling. And you know, apologies will be very, very expensive... - Hostor sharply broke the former king's glasses and threw them away. - And don't even think about deceiving me. You will always have a target on your back... Call if you change your mind. Your abilities may be useful to the family, - Hostor winked at Ling and turned away. - Let's go, guys...
Everyone else left the bunker, leaving "Wesker" in proud solitude to watch the monitors displaying system errors...

that's just ridiculous
now everyone will come and write something about someone else
it'll turn into a mess
I'll write that I killed those guys in black, injected anti-Uroboros, threw Wesker into a garbage chute, and then aliens came and killed everyone
(I'm not saying anything bad about the quality of the stories)

P.S. Wesker, this is fan fiction about life in Haven)

Let's make Heroes of Might and Magic Online a separate fandom!

Yes, and this too!

Yes, that’s much better. It clearly shows that “boys like to play ‘war games,’ and girls like to play with dolls.”

That's just utter nonsense.

Here, almost everyone uses their won nominations – why shouldn't I have a little fun too? Lol, it's intriguing. Scandals, investigations!

I wrote "Hurma" as I went along, without knowing in advance what would happen next.

Well, I prefer to plan everything out in advance...

Go ahead and kill each other off in your fanfiction :D

I was just about to suggest the same thing to Revana – that they should have coordinated at least. Otherwise, the result will be nonsense.

Don't mix them up and don't treat them as a single entity. Or just read only Naerine's stories.

lol

By the time everyone had left the bunker, the paralysis effect had worn off. Wesker was able to move again and thought for a moment, "What a fool he is. I was a captain of a special forces unit long before the virus entered my body, and I managed perfectly well without it!" Wesker brushed the dust off his cloak. "I wonder how he found out about that name... and why he called me that? However, that's not important right now. I should focus on more important matters, but first..." He walked over to a cabinet built into the wall and opened it. Inside were ten identical pairs of glasses, one of which he put on. "This is better." Somewhere in Iraq... Richard and his master were moving rapidly across the desert in a high-speed buggy, traversing one sandy valley after another. "Still, why did you decide not to cooperate with Lizard and shut down the project?" "Because it's no longer possible to continue it, because one fool with slicked-back hair destroyed everything." "Slicked-back hair?" Richard laughed. "Just like yours!" "Yes, I thought so too. He's also a plagiarist... However, I'm not worried about the loss of data, but about the fact that someone copied everything before he arrived." "What do you mean?!" Suddenly, a shell exploded right in front of them. Wesker stopped the buggy abruptly. "We've arrived." A few minutes later, a truck appeared in their field of vision, speeding towards them. When it reached them, it stopped, and six men of Arab appearance got out, surrounding the buggy and pointing their AK-47s at the two people inside. ...With their hands tied, Richard and Wesker moved through a secret military base where life was bustling. Soldiers were practicing their shooting skills, technicians were repairing damaged Marauders, suicide bombers were praying to Allah, snipers and guards stood at their posts, and worker-slaves were building new fortifications and laying new explosives. Scud Storm stood out among the other structures with its intimidating, yet captivating appearance. A man who seemed to be in charge of everything approached Wesker and his "escort." He immediately recognized Wesker and addressed him. "Why have you come?" "Let's just say... I need some 'help'." A few hours later. After listening to the story, the man laughed. "And he deprived you of your so-called 'abilities'? How did you let that happen? But in reality, these lab rats, like those who developed that antivirus, don't understand anything about this field. I will conduct some observations and take samples of your blood, tissue, etc., and then, I think, I will be able to restore everything." A few more hours passed. "Amazing! I managed to recreate the virus that you were once infected with, although not quite in its ideal form. All the 'test subjects' died a few minutes after it was administered... I found out that death occurs as a result of a side effect that your body has developed immunity to over the years. That is, yes, you will be able to use it. The bad news is that your, uh, 'friend' wasn't lying, and you really do have a risk of suffering if your DNA is altered again. But what I did doesn't have that risk, as it has a narcotic-like effect. In other words, you will have to constantly inject yourself with the virus I created to maintain the effect, which lasts for 48 hours, that is, one dose every two days. It is addictive; if you don't get a dose for a long time, you may experience severe headaches and insomnia." Wesker thanked him for the work done and hurried to leave, leaving Richard to work here, serving his new master. At first, he was a little upset, but when he saw his new laboratory, he perked up and eagerly began to conduct new, even more cruel experiments on people.

The Royal Confession

-To whom? What? And why do you need something from me? - Hostor grumbled, annoyed, having just been awakened by his loyal friend and excellent butler, Sebastian.
-My lord, you have a guest.
-What guest? To hell with the guest! I'm going to sleep…
-But, my lord, it's your sister…
-What? Neyra?! – Hostor immediately got out of bed and quickly began to get dressed.
Knowing about his host's eternal laziness, Sebastian constantly used the word "sister" when no less important guests came to Hostor. Firstly, it was the only sure way to rouse him, and secondly, the butler always found it amusing to watch. But this time, he wasn't joking with his friend. Neyra had indeed arrived, and she didn't look her best.
Putting on his favorite suit, Hostor, without asking Sebastian anything, rushed to the living room. His brotherly feelings told him that something was wrong with his sister. Soon, his fears were confirmed. When he saw Neyra, he almost threw up. She was pale, her face was tired, and her legs barely held her up.
-Good heavens, sister, what happened? Sit down!
-I probably should… - the queen barely managed to say, after which she collapsed on the sofa as if she were at home.
-Neyra! What's wrong with you? Should I call a doctor?!
-No doctors… please… there are so few of them, they are needed more by the people… I've had enough of how much they all hate me…
-Um, I actually meant my personal, qualified doctor.
-Really? Well, then…
-Now, tell me everything as it is. Why are you feeling so bad?
-For the past few days, I've been having terrible nightmares, and they're all about Vesker…
-What, prophetic dreams? Paranoia?
-I'm not sure… I think he's planning to spread his U.G. again. But that's not the point. Wanting to get rid of these nightmares, I decided to go to the hospital to consult a doctor and find out what was happening. As a result, I found out that due to the Lizardmen's "revolutions," almost all the doctors have left, and they made me the main villain, and then they injected me with some suspicious medicine, which made me feel even worse. I became completely exhausted, which gave Arandor complete control over me at night. And when he fell asleep, I immediately rushed to you.
-What? How dare he take advantage of you! I will never forgive that bastard!
-Calm down, it's my fault, because I didn't talk about my problems…
-Still! He had no right to touch you! I will destroy him!
-Don't… really, don't.
-Okay! But, on one condition. You won't live with him under the same roof!
-But…
-No "but"! You will live with me! Here, I will be completely sure that nothing will happen to you, and that bastard will not dare to touch you.
-Well, okay…
-And now, I'll take you to your new rooms. If you need anything, Sebastian will always be at your service, and for now, I'll ask him to put you to bed.
-Thank you, brother.
-You're welcome, sleep well, sister – Hostor, together with his loyal butler, led his sister to her new rooms, wished her good night, and then went to his room. - Well, I'll go visit my old former friend. I think I have something to talk to him about…

An unknown person entered the Church of Saint Flood, dressed in a dirty, rain-soaked gray cloak that completely covered his face. He sat on the pew and began to cry.
Archbishop Vegtam could not help but notice such a strange visitor. Therefore, he decided to personally approach and try to help the stranger, whose appearance left much to be desired.
-What happened, my son? - the priest asked, in response to which he received only a quiet answer.
-Are you sure you want to hear about my problems, holy father.
-The church is always open to people, especially those who have experienced some kind of misfortune. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to listen to people's problems. First, what is your name, my son?
-I think it will be enough to show you my face so that you understand who I am. But please, don't use names – with these words, the stranger lowered his hood to show his face to the archbishop. Seeing Vegtam's shocked face, he immediately put the hood back on and began to look down.
-Your… - the surprised priest was about to exclaim, but he quickly regained his composure and stopped. Vegtam couldn't understand what grief could have brought the very Arandor to tears. - What misfortune could have brought you here?
Arandor told the archbishop his long story about how often he argued with Queen Neyra, and how she secretly ran away from him to her brother.
-But I just wanted us to be like real spouses… I just wanted my dreams of a beautiful family to come true…Imagining such dreams, Vegtam was horrified. The archbishop could not imagine such a long story that the king told him. On the one hand, he felt very sorry for the poor fellow, and on the other hand, he fully understood Neyra's position and would probably have done the same in her place…