Author: E350 PM
A reluctant Spongebob is pushed into a starring role in a play at Jimmy's school, but he soon finds out that stage fright is the least of his worries as strange things begin to happen. Sequel to 'Quest for the Orb of Power'. Mild violence. Spongebob/SandyRated: Fiction K+ - English - Humor/Supernatural - Chapters: 12 - Words: 15,173 - Reviews: 73 - Favs: 9 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 01-02-12 - Published: 08-14-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7285445
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Well, this got started fairly quickly. :P
I've been itching to start this one for a while. :D As a point of reference for the prologue;
A rank is a line of soldiers in a formation. Usually, the British would form up in two of these.
A shako is a tall, cylindrical hat that was often worn by soldiers in the Nineteenth Century.
British soldiers were in Maine in 1813 - they were fighting the War of 1812.
A Nicktoons Unite Story
Somewhere in Maine, 1813
The lone soldier watched from behind a hut as it happened.
A regiment of troops in stovepipe-shaped hats marched forward in line, their smart red uniforms drenched by rain. Their colours flew proudly upon a flag above them, and their boots splashed as the marched through the puddles in the cobbled street.
An officer barked an order, and the soldiers halted. Ahead of them was a purple haze, wafting out from what had once been the town square. If one squinted, they could see two red dots through the mist.
Out of the haze strode a figure, his face obscured by a black hood. A grey cloak fluttered in the wind and rain behind him, draped over a well-tailored suit. He gazed at the redcoats, and held out his hand – he seemed to be inviting them to fire.
The officer barked again, and the soldiers aimed their muskets. There was a seconds silence, and then there was a tremendous bang, like a clap of thunder – the soldier flinched.
For several moments, a thick cloud of white smoke hung over the street, blocking any view of the figure. There was nary a sound, save for the rain and wind.
Then, the figure strode from the cloud, a smirk crossing his face.
He flicked his hand, and a scythe of purple energy ripped through the front rank of the soldiers. The officer fell face-first into a puddle, and mud splashed over the second rank of troops.
Franticly, the remaining troops tried to reload their muskets. The figure looked up at them, and his eyes began to glow.
The soldier closed his eyes. There was a loud screech, the sound of a few muffle cries, and then a great boom. When the soldier opened his eyes, he saw the remaining soldiers were, quite simply, no longer there – a single discarded shako lying on the ground.
The figure gave a hollow laugh.
There was a yell, and he turned around.
A young woman, dressed in a white gown, strode up to the figure, a sword in hand. The figure rolled his eyes, and picked up the officer's sword, preparing to fight.
The soldier watched, awed, as they fought. Each thrust was blocked, every strike parried. Neither could gain the upper hand in this fight – it was as if no-one wanted to. As if they had a bond or friendship, and did not wish to break it.
But he, on the other hand, had just witnessed what the figure had done to his unit.
He strode ahead, bayonet in hand. With a mighty jab, he attacked.
The figure never saw him coming.
The soldier watched in grim satisfaction as his opponent fell, ignoring a cry from the woman.
The figure's cloak fell from him, his eyes ceased to glow – and the soldier's eyes widened.
He'd known this man.
This man had been his best friend.
The rain continued to fall upon the town. It fell upon a horrified friend, a sobbing lover, and the vanquished form of the Shadowed One.
"…it's got a sad ending, I'll admit," the Man in the White Suit, "The Shadowed One is unfortunately vanquished, the soldier ends up dying in battle and the woman eventually writes this play, to warn others."
He slid the script onto the desk, and grinned.
"Of course, it's all just a story."
Principal Willoughby picked up the script and skimmed through it, grinning.
"It's perfect!" he grinned, "And you're paying me to direct it? I'm honoured!"
"…very good, Principal," nodded the Man in the White Suit, "I am assured you will not disappoint – after all, who else could direct the first every multi-world play?"
He let Willoughby revel the opportunity for a moment, before speaking again.
"…and," he added, "I have a very good idea for a possible lead."
He placed a photograph of a small, yellow sponge in square pants on the table.
THAT GUY FROM THE LAST CHAPTER OF ORB IS BACK! D: