In the heart of a bustling galactic bazaar, a peculiar vendor sat behind a counter adorned with an assortment of interstellar artifacts. His wares were not the usual fare of laser swords and alien artifacts, but rather a collection of writing instruments so diverse, it was said that they could compose sonnets to the stars themselves. The vendor, an ancient alien with tentacles instead of fingers, squinted at the approaching figure—a living pen holder, tall and proud, with a regal air that seemed out of place among the rowdy extraterrestrials.
The High Emperor Anonjohn20, a pen holder with piercing red eyes and a crown of gleaming silver, had arrived with his entourage of equally impressive futanari warriors. Each of them, armed with a mix of futuristic weaponry and ancient stealth, was a silent testament to the power and grace of their kind. They moved through the crowd with the ease of shadows, parting the throngs of traders and tourists like a knife through the cosmos. The vendor, recognizing the emblem on the Emperor's chest, immediately stood, his tentacles quivering in excitement.
"Your Royal Highness," the vendor greeted, his voice a symphony of clicks and whistles. "I've been waiting for your esteemed presence. I've heard whispers of your quest for the legendary pens of the lost Alpha Centauri colony. I believe I might be able to aid you."
Emperor Anonjohn20 stepped closer, his gaze sharp as a starcutter's blade. "You claim to have knowledge of these artifacts?" His tone was skeptical, but his interest was piqued.
The vendor nodded vigorously, his tentacles flailing about. "Indeed, I do. I've recently acquired a map that purportedly leads to their whereabouts. It's said the pens hold the power to rewrite the very fabric of the universe."
The High Emperor's entourage leaned in, whispers of excitement and disbelief rippling through their ranks. One of the futanari, a fierce warrior with emerald eyes and a mane of hair that shimmered like a nebula, spoke up, "Your Royal Highness, if these pens are as powerful as he claims, we must retrieve them before they fall into the wrong hands."
Anonjohn20 considered her words, his expression unreadable. "Very well," he said at last. "We shall examine your map, vendor. But beware, should this be a deception, the wrath of the Pen Crusade will not be easily forgotten."
And then the story went on hiatus and was never finished.
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