Folgore Rangers return!!

[Darros]

There's too much shipping and handling in this thread.

[Junk]

hmm well I am sure it was to be expected because groups with large people always tend to have a lot of shipping going on,

[MacLovin]

I didn't say that I cared!

Quiet you.

As a founder, this is irrelevant.

Long live the Folgore.

can't find CR's rendition of the folgore song :/.

[Darros]

OMFG NOT THAT VIDEO IM CRYIN

[Frosty]

I miss transforming into an ice-breathing dinosaur...

Edited June 4, 2014 by Frosty the Snowman

[Darros]

[spoiler=idk]

Darros was enjoying a peaceful afternoon in the computer building. Summer was boring as all hell, and he didn’t really like it. Today was nice though, relaxing after a long weekend of work was great. He still hadn’t come to terms with his powers, still searching, but he had it off his mind for once. He was watching Big Brother live feeds on a computer, when Vashiane came up and stood behind him.

“What’s up?” she asked, smiling.

He laughed, “I’m watching Big Brother. Best show on the planet.”

“It’s Monday afternoon!” she exclaimed, surprised.

“Well, the show never stops with live feeds!” replied Darros, going off into a half hour spiel about Big Brother and the season and the contestants, stuff that one probably doesn’t care much about if they don’t watch the show. Taylor seemed interested though, saying it was neat. She had to go run errands, so she bid him adieu.

After about an hour or eight of watching live feeds, Darros finally decided it was time to call it quits. He closed his browser, and suddenly the lights flickered. On his guard, he looked around, only to see he was the only one in the computer building. This was suspicious, it was a 24/7 facility. He heard rattling, sounding like it came from the stairs. He ran into the corridor and up the stairs, to the top floor where all of SF’s data was kept.

He opened the doors to the top floor from the corridor and saw no one other than GoldieX39. She laughed maniacally, “You thought you could delete me? I’m deleting this website toy thing! Eheehehoeohooohhoooooo!” Darros stomped his foot, “That’s bullshit and you know it! This place is monitored and there’ll be people here in no time!”

Goldie just laughed her signature laugh, raising her hands above her head. Lightning bolts struck out from her fingertips, smashing the cameras and frying them. Darros stood there in awe, “Well that’s.. new.” He muttered. “It’s time I did something with you, Goldie! FOLGORE BLUE, POWER OF IDONT EVEN KNOW ANYMORE!” he exclaimed, his clothes changing into his stylish Folgore Ranger outfit.

“Oh, Ranger, you think you can defeat me? This toy website can handle one of me, but can they handle one HUNDRED of me?” she asked, as she cracked her knuckles, and clones of her started appearing around the floor. Darros was in a panic, he had to do something before they destroyed the database. All he could think of was getting back to the live feeds though. Suddenly, it came to him. He could blab about Big Brother to Goldie!

“Hey Goldie! Did you know Rachel Reilly and Hayden Moss are the only two contestants to win the first HoH competition and the season entirely?” he spouted. All the clones turned to him, confused. “See, a HoH competition early usually labels you as a threat but these two managed to avoid that target on their back through strategy and won the game, it’s really tactical! Other first HoH’s have just been evicted the following week and it’s messy.” He went on and on about competitions, and Goldie started to zone out, her clones fading away. She slumped over, having fallen asleep from pure boredom. Darros cuffed her, and frowned, “It’s like people don’t like Big Brother or something.” He said out loud. Suddenly, Goldie evaporated, and the cuffs dropped to the floor. An echo was heard through the hall, “Eeheehehhooohooooooohooooo! You can’t get rid of me that easily! I’m going to destroy this website toy thing if it’s the last thing I do!” Darros sighed, this might be a while. At least his work was done for today, and he found out something that might be power-related. He went off to talk to the Great Mods about not leaving all of SF’s data open to the public.

[Shin]

Man, this thread was dead, but time to revive it! With the recent airing of JoJo's Bizarre Adventures, I feel somewhat motivated to continue it's parody. A parody of a parody parodying? How bizarre!

Abdmare sighed, flexing his biceps in disbelief. "I suppose not every member of the Jogore line possesses a stand after all. It's a shame, but I suppose two will suffice." he declared, contemplating whether he could bench-press an elephant or not.

Joshin and Jotimp were still trying to get their heads around their conjurations. The fine ceramic finish of the teapot... and the finer toned abs of Mr. World. They were rather incredible. Jorros stared despondantly at the trio, unable to produce one of his own. It was always the case, Jorros was the odd one out. It didn't matter whether it was him being picked last in gym class, or getting super powers from a strange muscular man. Fate never seemed to shine kindly on him.

Abdmare gestured towards the door, posing in a position that would be otherwise impractical and uncomfortable. "Come, I suspect there are at least three more stand users in the town here." he said boldly, flicking his hair back majestically. "We need to reach them before Camdio's forces do... he must have several on his side already."

Jotimp hurried to the side of the muscular giant, wondering what kinds of people they'd face. Jorros and his grandfather followed more slowly, Jorros because of the overwhelming feeling of uselessness, Joshin because he fell asleep halfway to the door.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Fools! You allowed Abdmare to reach Joshin!" Camdio cried, furiously examining two trashbags whulst seated on his throne. "Nylon... or Polyester... I do wonder which would make a more evil garb."

Hol Horace gulped, finishing the last of his cheeseburger. "Master, I think the polyester would suit your figure better."

Camdio turned, his eyebrows burning with fiendish energy. "You buffoon! I'm competent enough to choose my own garments! I need you to send someone to Serenes city. We must bolster our forces!"

Hol Horace wiped his brow, it seemed that he'd given himself indigestion for the third time that day. "Don't worry, master. I have sent our newest agent to prevent them from succeeding. His name is Polnarefa, his stand awakened recently... and he's been persuaded to join our cause. You shall not be defeated like the la-..."

His rage reaching its peak, Camdio rose from his throne, clutching Hol Horace's thick neck with his hand. "Fool! I do not need to be reminded of my failure! No, curses! My stand has triggered a flashback!"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And as promised, a flashback sequence appeared. Long in the past, Camdio and Joshin had fought an epic battle, far too expensive to portray in any particular detail. Joshin was down on one knee, the once-young Brit facing defeat from the demon lord Camdio. The final battle had come, ending up on a rooftop somewhere, probably in England.

"Foolish mortal! You think that your mastery of Jamón is a match for me?" Camdio boasted, approaching to finish his foe. "Do you have any last words before I suck you dry?"

Joshin laughed heartily, the unintended consequences of his enemy's words providing some comic relief from his impending doom. Camdio screeched, his eyes rolling in their sockets. Regaining his composure after a few seconds of insane shouting, Camdio gritted his teeth.

"No, I but I know what your last words will be." Joshin smirked, his eyes gleaming with some sort of Anglotastic maleficence.

Puzzled, Camdio looked at Joshin, requiring knowledge of everything despite the fact he could easily kill and forget about the man in front of him. "Humour me, what are they?" Camdio taunted, his evil eyebrows wriggling like a pair of rather nasty caterpillars.

"Oh god, the pain." Joshin said calmly, waiting for his foe's response.

"Ha, that's-..." Camdio began, only to receive a well timed boot to the groin. Joshin had tricked him and used his own incompetence against him. "Oh god, the pain!" Camdio screamed, staggering backwards in agony. Unable to focus on the battle at all, the fiend was vulnerable. Joshin rose, patting Camdio on the back.

"That's three times in a row I've got it right, that's a new personal best." Joshin taunted, giving Camdio a hefty shove.

Falling down onto the street with a sickening crack, Camdio's fall was broken somewhat by a pile of newspapers. Somewhat relieved by his fortune momentaily, Camdio was shocked to find that he'd landed in a pile of Britain's finest newspaper... The Sun. He could feel the celebrity gossip and unimportant coverage of showbiz events burning into his skin. The one-sided opinions of world politics and excessive details of sporting results seared his flesh, he could feel himself fading away. The Sun was the only thing vampires feared, the nightcrawling blood suckers required a far higher brow newspaper than most... and it had been Camdio's undoing.

"Don't feel bad, you'd need another sixty years before you were on par with me!" Joshin boasted as Camdio's view of the world fading into darkness.

[eclipse]

WTF is this universe where Camdar is suddenly competent.

[Thor Odinson]

Hol Horace and Polnarefa

amazing

[MancerNecro]

Folgore Purple reporting in again after being AWOL trapped inside an ice block at the arctic for a year.

[MancerNecro]

[spoiler=The Return of Folgore Purple]I am irritated and angry and really bored right now as I have been for a really long time. The chill around me does nothing to make me feel better. My body is stiff and itching all over. If there is anyone here right now, I'd probably just kill them out of frustration right now.

I look at the ice just in front of my face. It has not changed at all for the entire period of time that I am here. I recall how I woke up one day only to find myself in this position. I am trapped, unable to leave. Worse than that, I cannot move at all.

The thought of being unable to move, to stretch and relax my muscles is unbearable. I took all these every day movements for granted. I would give everything I have now just to be able to move once again. That is, if I still had anything. I don't know how much time has passed or is going to pass. At least I will not be going hungry. The ice seems to keep me nutritioned and full. However, I suppose that that can be what they are planning: To keep me here and torture me for as long as they want.

Suddenly, the ground starts to quiver. I feel the ground shaking more and more vigorously, small little vibrations that grow in frequency and magnitude. Soon, I can feel myself being flung back and forth by the quakes.

This is not the first time this has happened in the time I have spent here. Earthquakes like this happen very frequently. I was scared out of my wits by the first few earthquakes that happened but now I am used to them.

I have been here for so, so long. The sun barely shines upon this part of the world. The landscape is permanently shrouded in twilight. In this situation, being unable to tell the passage of time; being unanle to count the number of days; being unable to count the weeks, months, even years passing by, I am losing all hope. Life could have ended the moment I found myself here.

I watch in amazement as the ground starts to crumble and huge cracks appear in the ground's surface. My time must finally be up. I wish for the only thing that I have wanted for as long as I can remember: Death's reprieve. Life is nothing but a nightmare that I can never wake up from now. Instinctual urges to move, to stretch and to eat are gnawing me away from the inside.

I observe the crack moving towards my location. Time slows down for me now. My heart starts to race, excitement causing adrenaline to pump through me. I anticipate something, anything, happening after such a long time of inactivity. I gasp inadvertently as the crack slides below me, fear and intrigue fighting for first place in my mind.

Everything happens in an instant, the ground collapses below me and I fall. I fall a great distamce before the vertical wall gives way to a mointain slope. I slide down the slope, rolling and bouncing on the side of the mountain. I wonder if I will be able to reach the bottom in one piece. Maybe I will or maybe I won't. The prospect of being splattered into a million pieces of human flesh makes me feel high for some reason. I giggle unknowingly as I continue falling.

I hit the ground with a loud crack sound. I stand up, puzzled at the fact that I am still alive. More than that, I realise with a jolt that I am now finally free from my icy prison, the piece of ice that had encased me for god knows how long has finally released me.

There is only one thought left in my mind: I must go back and find my friends. The world needs help and the help needs me.

And that's my story.

[MacLovin]

Well this is somehow still alive.

Can we have a Folgore-verse event like days of future past?

Oh and you just made my day with that Shin.

[Frosty]

Now, the Frostysaur is now back from the void... Apparently he'd been flying in and out of various universes.

[ZemZem]

Folgore Orange reporting for duty...after his college application form is complete.

[Jedi]

Folgore Red the Second reporting from Job Corps/College and Smash Bros obession!

[MRDRHAWK]

something something Flanman is still not dead I guess

[ZemZem]

poly what

you're not part of this

[MRDRHAWK]

poly what

you're not part of this

check the villains section doof

[ZemZem]

you're my mortal enemy okay

[Jedi]

ROUND 1.. :P

[Esme]

mecha shiki-oujis for Folgore Green when

[MancerNecro]

LOL!

Hi everyone! I'm back from that iceberg Camdar stuck me in!

[MancerNecro]

[spoiler=The Blades of Opposing Truths]I tenderly slide my hand along my katana. I am back in my room again beside my two precious swords. Each of my swords has its own life and essence and being around them once more makes me feel secure and complete.

The katana that I am holding now is called Defender. It is a long, curved katana made to protect the innocent. It's preferred fighting style is a defensive one, utilising its length and curved shape effectively. Its long reach allows me to keep my opponents far away from me. Its curved shape allows me to swing the sword easily to cover up any defensive weaknesses I might have.

The sabre that I have on my lap now is Reaper. It is a dangerous blade that lusts for blood and hunger. I think of the previous owner of the blade and a tear runs down my eye. Reaper is a mid-length blade more suitablr for close ranged battles. It's specialty lies in the material of the blade. It is rough all over and can easily cut or graze anyone who makes contact with the blade. It can cut its owner too and so I have to use the blade with care. I carry Reaper with me as a momento of its previous owner and a reminder: A reminder of who I am now and who I was before.

--------------------

I was not always the defender of justice that I am now.

When I was young, I was an immature young brat who refused to listen to instructions and was extremely playful. I was completely unlike my elder brother who was disciplined, smart and just about the perfect son and friend anyone could ever have.

Maybe in a way, I was actually jealous of my brother but I played many tricks, games and pranks on the servants and visitors to the house in order to draw my parents' attention. I often got punished for them. Okay, actually, I always got punished for them but the best thing out of this is that I get to see my parents as they scolded me and my brother will enter my room to check that I'm alright. I only ever felt remembered when I did something wrong.

When I reached 15, my parents sent me to a swordfighting academy in the hopes that I could learn to be more disciplined. I lapped up the various styles and swordplays quickly. It was definitely in the famiy blood. My parents and even my brother were expert swordsmen and I was pleased to be able to absorb the art of swordfighting so easily and quickly. It was another connection I had to my parents.

When I graduated, I was presented with one of the family blades: Defender. A blade of discipline meant to protect the innocent.

So I did, I protected the innocent along with my family and ensured that the villagers in the village I lived in were never oppressed or bullied by anyone. I also got to leave the village with my brother on his missions. We were known as the Brothers of Justice. My brother was the Blade of Punishment and I was the Defender of the Weak.

However, good things never last. My family was attacked by a coalition of their enemies. It was a massacre, a sea of red. I witnessed my parents and my brother dying before me: Defending and protecting me to their last breaths. My brother, known for his excellent offensive stances restrained his battling style to keep me safe fron the tides of the enemy. Until this day, I still think that I might have caused my brother's death because of my weakness and inability at that time.

With my family dead around me, something snapped in me and I picked up my brother's blade, Reaper. With both Defender and Reaper, I mercilessly cut down all of my family's enemies in front of me. I knew not what came over me. I was blinded by a rage and pain so intense that it blinded out my brain. I was berserk, rampaging madly through all of the enemies. I only calmed down when I stood at the centre of the sea of bodies: Bodies of the people who met their lives' end at my hand.

On that day, I swore that I would not only protect the innocent, I would also punish evil. I carry on my brother and family's legacy with me.

--------------------

My swordsplay is more refined now. My dual wielding style is developed from the combined fighting style of the two swords I own. It is a more balanced style, one that is flawless in both attack and defense.

I use my katana as an offensive pivot and my sabre as a defensive pivot. Defender's long reach becomes a potent force that still provides me with a stable stance and protection. Reaper's short length makes it perfect for defending myself quickly with short, quick strokes but its lust for blood allows it to strike and draw blood on unsuspecting and careless enemies.

I wipe off my tears. I will cry no longer. Not until my job is complete. Not until the world is saved from evil. For I am Folgore Purple, the warrior of justice.

[Parrhesia]

I tenderly slide my hand along my katana.

s- sempai...

[ZemZem]

ohaiyo we exist