Storythread

hey chronicle man, did you upload last week's stories?

File: 1396624061537.jpg (791KB, 1400x907px) Image search: [Google]

791KB, 1400x907px

>>54701323
I'm sorry, I've got most of the way through capping the stories from the last thread but I've been really busy lately.

Not only have I had less free time recently, stupid person that I am I volunteered to run a d&d campaign for some friends. And by 'run a d&d campaign' I mean write a new campaign AND setting from scratch. So yeah, most of what little free time I've had recently has been taken up with that. The first session is Saturday lunchtime (so, today or tomorrow depending on which timezone you're in). Wish me luck.

Hopefully after that's done with I'll be able to update the wiki some time over the weekend.

Btw, there were some good stories in the last thread. I wish I'd had time to comment on them, but maybe if I get a minute I'll post some of my thoughts on one or two of them.

>>54701720
>d&d

>>54702795
Actually, if given the choice I'd like to run a Dark Heresy campaign. However, my group is a Dungeons and Dragons group, and since this is my first time DMing it probably is best if I stick to a system I'm at least vaguely familiar with.

Well, good night everyone. Hopefully this thread will still be here in the morning.

File: ice_planet_2002_by_mr__jack-d7d0imq.jpg (182KB, 1224x653px) Image search: [Google]

182KB, 1224x653px

>Hey Jenkins
>What?
>You ever wonder why half our gear looks all transparent and orange?
>It's to offset the UV rays, isn't it?
>Well, for the visors, yeah, but...the chainsaw? The skis? Even our satellite dish is orange and transparent!
>You sure it's not just your visor, Wilburt?
>I can see the mountain right through my chainsaw. That sure as hell isn't my visor.
>Huh, really...thought it was just me who could see through this barrel...
>And that's another thing! What kind of manufacturer makes a gun with a transparent orange barrel?
>I just thought it shot lasers...
>Lasers do not work that way! That barrel would just scatter the laser a hundred different directions! That's a hazard!
>But then...why did they give me this?
>And another thing - look at our mobile base! Where's the roof?
>Well, I thought the view was nice with this...
>But Jenkins, it's a safety hazard! God forbid, but it some massive chunk of ice were to drop on us, that glass roof would be even bigger risk! Those shards could kill us!
>But...are we sure this is glass?I mean, how would a glass chainsaw work?
>But...huh, how would this cut ice if it's glass...?
>And how do our antennas work?
>Yeah, I thought fiber optics were still too expensive...
>And more to the point, why do we even need a gun in the arctic? We're not looking for aliens!
>Well...self-defense? You know how wild animals sometimes turn out.
>But didn't you say...?
>Look, I don't know why they gave us this crap! I mean seriously, they gave us transparent orange chainsaws! There's no reason this should be even here!
>It just doesn't make sense...

As the horses started to trot towards the norscan lines, a cold wind buffeted the riders, sending a shiver down their spine. Bohemond hoped that this skirmish would be over soon. It wouldn't be long before he was on one of the boats and heading home.

The cavalry opposing them was a small mass of norscans. They might be dangerous warriors but their steeds were no match for bretonnian warhorses. This would be easy. The distant thunder of the imperial guns was growing fainter as they built up speed and moved towards their foe
A curious sense of deja vu came over him as the horses broke into a gallop. It was as if he had been fighting here before. The norscans were now clearly visible, and Bohemond gulped as he realized that they weren't norscans on horses. Some vile mutation had turned their skin into bark and even as the bretonnian line dipped lances the tree-norscans sprouted into new life.
The last thing Bohemond remembered was that he was charging this horrific host all alone. Then his world exploded into pain.

Bohemond woke up with a start, feeling the sweat on the back of his neck. The pain felt real, almost as if the dream had tried to hurt him physically. He quickly ran his hands around his midsection and felt bandages around his midsection. He breathed deeply and then looked around. He didn't remember if his jaw was left hanging open

Bohemond was in a room, if it could be called that. The walls around him seemed to be made of bark, but so exquisite they would have made Alberic's ducal chambers seem shabby in comparison. The room was brilliantly lit by what seemed like hundreds of fireflies moving around the air in lazy patterns. He was lying on a bed, fit for the Kng, and the silken sheets that covered him were almost liquid to the touch.
A crystal jug filled with water and a goblet of the same material were right next to him on a low table.
This was beyond doubt the most luxurious place he had ever woken up in. This was in paradise, or this was a dream.

File: d7ac152aa9cde76b9031a32d00adac4e.jpg (162KB, 1400x967px) Image search: [Google]

162KB, 1400x967px

>On Family and Childhood
I don't really have a family. Simple as that.

Well, once when I was little - and I mean really little - I remember living with two people in this boring little village. All I really remember about that place was only being locked up in all these expectations. I had to be a normal girl, I had to have normal hobbies, I had to read normal books. Normal this, normal that... I hated that place. I could never be just me there. At some point, I somehow discovered that I could use magic. They picked up on that some point and...well, they didn't take too kindly to it. After all, the village I lived in hunted witches and being a witch meant that I couldn't be the perfectly ordinary girl they wanted. Put them together, and I suddenly found these people I lived with suddenly sharpening pitchforks and lighting torches.

So I did the one thing, the only thing I could do: I ran away. Just me, a small sack of clothes, and a forest I've never walked into in my life. I got lost in there, of course, but I thought I was safer there than in that house. Even though I was starving, even though I was completely alone and defenseless, I knew that I could actually be what I wanted to be for once, and never have to be anything else.

Looking back, I still think I did the right thing. Perfectly ordinary people are only perfectly boring. They don't do anything. They just live locked in their own little cages of tedium, living and dying without ever knowing what it's like outside of it. They're always scared of everything that's outside of that cage for no good reason, even when it doesn't hurt them. I hated that life, and I never want to look back at it ever again. I never would have become the person I am right now without being something that wasn't normal, so I'm glad that I was smart enough to run away from that place.

>>54719463
Well, so where was I? Oh, right, I was lost in the middle of the forest. It was dark, scary, and absolutely deserted. Combine all that with me being lost and starving, and you'd find yourself a perfect little nightmare. I didn't mind it though. Even if I died there, I'd at least die as myself and not as some perfectly ordinary girl like everyone wanted me to be. It also gave me time to practice my magic.

One day, I woke up in this hut. I had no clue how I got there. I was met by these people in robes and hats, telling me how I was special. They called my magic a gift. When I left the hut, I found an entire community full of people just like me, people who wanted to use magic without people always judging. I was welcomed like I was their friend, so I decided to stay with this coven.

These guys weren't only magicians, but they also were worshipers of this weird god who supposedly was a master magician and also wanted to free humanity from the shackles they placed upon themselves. I thought that was something that the world seriously needed, so I joined in. In return for my loyalty, they taught me everything about magic. I picked it all up real quick so I became a real witch only a year after I wound up among them. They also taught me about the neighborhood, this place known as Gainesborough, filled with as many monsters as there are people. I fit perfectly with everyone.

The coven had me do some stuff, mostly scare off naysayers and show other kids like me magic. We also sometimes got these rare magic items that our god supposedly needed for some reason. One of those days, we learned that some detectives had just passed away, so we should share all their secrets with the world.
One of them turned out to be the very god we worshiped: Mimagaia, the master magician and destroyer. She immediately set about destroying the world and we all followed, thinking this was all going as planned.

>>54720235
It didn't really surprise us that we were being bothered by this annoying brat who said she was a detective. I think her name was Harriet. Honestly, it just made us fight harder to protect what we won. We were everywhere getting people to wake up to their freedom, but...for some reason, it didn't work. Not because they were resisting, but more like they were scared of us. Even when we tried to teach them what we knew, it felt like we were more holding them hostage than anything.

Eventually, that detective Harriet got far enough that we had to worry about Mimagaia's own safety. I was among those devout enough to be near our god when that detective came to attack. I stood alongside magicians who had spent their entire lives perfecting their craft and ancient spirits who sided with the Great Witch in ages past. None of them stood a chance against that detective and her magic. Something she did just made it...impossible for them to hit her. Even Mimagaia couldn't hit her, and with that, we lost. Our god had her powers locked away and we just watched it happen. Some of the coven, they walked away. They thought it was over, and to be honest I couldn't blame them.

>On the Slow Transition
I can't really pin down when I started having my own worries about what Mimagaia really was about. It's just after her defeat that she started changing our goals overtly. She began staging riots against random neighborhoods, full-scale robberies. She said that it no longer mattered who got hurt because nobody mattered. She even began blowing places up as that seal started wearing off. Truth be told, I was getting a little scared. I joined this coven because I thought I was among friends, but with all this terrorism, I had to wonder what I was doing. Couldn't tell anyone that though, that'd mean I'd lose the only friends I had. If I didn't have them, there was no way I'd stand a chance of even escaping that detective Harriet.

>>54721804
Just like before, more great wizards and monsters came to fight alongside us. This time however, that detective had some help from a local cop. Together, they managed to stop us all again, but this time, I saw something strange. That detective's orb looked weird and shimmering, like it had taken one too many cracks. I heard Mimagaia comment how it would lead to the world being destroyed and if the detective didn't give her the orb, she'd find someone else to do it for her.

I think that was the point where I realized I was never among friends. I fell out of favor as I realized that I wasn't as cruel as those that remained. I did care if someone got hurt, and I wanted to continue getting people on our side. Shame nobody else did. Eventually, our god just...grabbed me and sent me to a hollowed out cave. Said she was sure Harriet would be there. Surprise surprise, she was. She lashed out on me immediately, and all I could think of was why she looked so worn out. I was glad I noticed that, because she was incredibly reckless with herself and her weapon. Before she could try breaking it on my face, Mimagaia stepped in my way and tried to pry the orb free.

As they struggled, I heard that detective shout on about it's all she had left and she can't lose anything else. Meanwhile, all my god wanted was to kill. Guess it was pretty easy to see why I betrayed my only family. I stalled Mimagaia long enough for Harriet to go get what she was here for what felt like forever, and when she came back, she looked like a new person. Together with some weird time-traveling weirdos, Mimagaia was gone for good, and I was...alone.

>How I Became Friends with a Detective
I guess it goes without saying that this one act of sudden betrayal didn't make us friends. My feelings were still a bit scrambled, she was still a bit too vengeful. We didn't really fit, and having a sudden demonic invasion didn't help us.

>>54722655
In the wake of losing my only family, I just wandered aimlessly. I still had my skills, but there wasn't much else I could do with them, so I decided to go into crime. Burglary, espionage, sabotage, you name it, I've probably had a contract for it. Wasn't long before I found myself under the Harriet Agency's crosshairs again.

She was about to arrest me during this one caper, I had just finished delivering some goods that may or may not have been illegal. She might have thought I had fallen back with the old crowd despite them having finally fallen apart. She tried to pin blame on me for something I had no idea about. In the end though, she handcuffed me and hauled me back into this run-down mansion and I remembered that I broke out an evil god right in their backyard. Talk about embarrassing.

Luckily for me, Miss Harriet, or as she introduced herself, Raina, had a proposition for me. She wouldn't turn me in if I helped her with the demons suddenly arriving all over the place. She even offered to let me stay if I accepted. Of course, I agreed, planning to cut loose the first opportunity I got, but demons and my overbearing detective had kept me locked into her strict and structured life. Strangely though, I didn't quite hate it this time around. I think part of it had to be me just reeling from losing the coven, but somewhere down the line, we also managed to have our own strange friendship. I found ways to help out with all my illicit contacts, she had a rational head on her shoulders and a fixed sense of right and wrong.

I think the whole "friends" thing really set in when we were facing off against the devil behind the invasion junk. That thing wanted to kill everything, but an old friend of ours just showed up and all we were gonna fight were two minions of the devil. Me and Raina teamed up, fighting against wild monsters shooting skulls and hellfire. It wasn't fun, we nearly lost arms and heads to them, but somehow, by some miracle, we made it.

>>54723346
We had collapsed right next to each other as two demons literally fought to the death right next to us. We were both watching, too terrified to move. I noticed Raina's hands gripping onto my sleeves with everything she got. I clearly remember thinking 'I wanna live. I want us both to live, I'll do anything to just make it past this day with this person.' When I grabbed onto her, I pretty much sealed my relationship.

Since that day, I've found that my story and Raina's will pretty much cross up at any point they do. We've kept on working together in keeping Gainesborough safe from the next doomsday du jour, with my vast know-how of anything and her powers of deduction. She's also been a pain in my ass in trying to get me to hang up being a criminal and all. I mean, it's not like I'm going around just stealing things and roughing people up anymore! I'm doing a bunch of other things too! I teach kids, I do bargaining, I even do my own bit of vigilante gallivanting on a few nights. It's not like I'm strictly doing bad things all the time! It's all stuff I enjoy, so I don't see how I'm supposed to just stop it all. It's just who I am, and all I want to be is who I am.

>On the Future
I...honestly never think that far ahead. Distracts too much from the right now.

I mean, what do you expect me to say? That I wanna live until I'm an old lady? That I'll one day retire rich? Why would I wanna stop being me in the first place? I like where I am right now. I have a nice little shack, I can get whatever I want, I have someone who always has my back, and I can say I have friends without having to worry that they're gonna sell me out whenever it's convenient.

If it's about Raina, then I hope she gets to live to an old age too. Ever since we met as kids, I think we knew we'd be seeing each other around a lot. Because of that, we've had a lot of chances to get close and understand each other a little better.

>>54728369
She's a hardass because that's who she is, and nothing I've done has changed that. I kinda admire that in the same way she admires how I've used my criminal background for good causes. I'm sure that as time goes on, we'll be better friends. Honestly, that's the only thing I'd want to look forward to.

>About the Author
>>Name?
Marley J. Karlsson. All self-picked.
>>Age?
20. I'm actually five months older than Raina, much as she tries to insist otherwise.
>>Occupation?
Thief, merchant, aspiring professor, magician...wait, pick one? Well what if I can't?
>>Interests?
Rare magical antiques and books. Got tons of 'em back home, but it's never enough. Seriously, look at my house one day. To the gills and everything!
>>Dislikes?
Guess you can tell, but I hate being tied down and being told what to do. Always have, always will be.
>>What are things you look for in a person?
Let's see, I have a list...wallet size, gullibility, magical aptitude, personality, likelihood of them dragging me down... There's more, but we'd be here all day.
>>Are you looking for a man or a woman?
Can't really say I care which way. I found committed relationships a drag. If I had to pick though...well, I have someone I've known whom I'd like to settle down with one of these days...
>>What's your deepest darkest secret?
Well...you know this sidetail of mine? Yeah, can't do it on my own. I have to use magic to do it all. What? It's embarrassing to have something I can't do!
>>What are your hopes for the future?
Just that things stay the way they are. Nothing big, I know, but it means a lot to me.
>>Any final words?
If you're ever looking for someone to do a job for you, no matter how off-the-books, Marley Karlsson's your guy!

>>54717725
Suddenly three of the lights detached themselves from their ambling and made a beeline straight towards him. If it had been any other day, Bohemond would have made an attempt to defend himself. Instead he stared dumbly at the trio of lights flitting in front of his face. Presently he could make out the glimmering shapes of three tiny bodies, seemingly radiating a soft glow of light.

Even as he watched, one of them changed into a knight, stern and alert. Bohemond could almost make out the barding. Another one changed into a tree-like creature, like the norscans who had attacked him. The third ran -or flew- in lazy circles around them.

The two tiny combatants charged at each other, the knight's lance at full tilt and the tree's branches outstretched. Right when they were about to meet, the minature horseman jumped with his steed, sailing clear of the tree monster and hitting it squarely in the chest with the lance.

It was a superb example of horsemanship, and Bohemond clapped excitedly. It was as good as a tourney in Couronne. The discordant sound of his clapping felt loud and boorish in such a delicately ethereal place. The three lights drew away from him, as though afraid.

Bohemond wondered if he had done something wrong when the door opened. Door was perhaps the wrong word. A large hole in the bark, enough for a person to pass through had been covered with green creepers. In his awed state, Bohemond hadn't paid any attention to it.
Now the rustling leaves made him sit up and take notice. A tall warrior, lithe and clad in curious armor entered the room. He wore no helmet and carried a shield on one arm, and a spear on another. Even from a distance Bohemond could see that the spear was a work of master craftsmen. No bretonnian billhook or imperial halberd could look so beautiful - or so deadly.

>>54730242
the warrior who held it was a sight to match. If Bohemond could use a word to describe him, it would have been perfect. The warrior had all the poise of a cat, and his face looked like it had been chiselled by the finest artisans. Every line of his face, every feature, was perfect. The only thing that was wrong was his eyes. They were the color of his hair, a color best described as wild honey.

Bohemond didn't need to know the shape of the warrior's ears to know what he was. He was in Athel Loren, for reasons unknown he was not dead yet, but if the stories about the faerie folk were true, he was not safe at all.

He debated asking the elf about anything - where he was, who he was, or what was going to happen to him, but the elf spoke first. "Human, you are bid to lie down while the healers come in to bring you sustenance and tend to your wounds." The words were spoken flawlessly, but in a way that conveyed distaste with every syllable. Bohemond wanted to ask something when a two elves entered after them. They were female, wore long flowing robes that lent the appearance of them gliding into view.
Bohemond wondered if they could fly. Stranger things had happened. He was gracious enough to thank them for the food - a bowl of berries. A pair of beautiful faces looked at him in a puzzled manner that quickly turned into amusement when the warrior translated. Bohemond followed their every command, careful not to move too suddenly. A wrong move could make him very dead very quickly.

Their examination of him finished, they bid him a farewell while the warrior looked at him with some distaste. All alone Bohemond turned his attention to the food and ate heartily before sleeping again.
Maybe they were just fattening him up for some sacrifice, but right now he didn't have a care in the world. He wondered if this was due to his still groggy condition as he slowly drifted off into sleep.

>>54726854
you have to wonder how many dragons that guy has slain to look THAT bored.

>>54738777
>
maybe he expected more

>>54729039
Cool 2hu story man, almost didn't catch those references. A pretty well written reinterpretation.

File: John_Bauer_-_The_Princess_and_the_Trolls_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg (4MB, 3047x3042px) Image search: [Google]

4MB, 3047x3042px

Wow, page 10.

>>54695681
https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B_fAtj0aadzVYTI0RDlFSGxNMnM/view?usp=sharing

Hey /tg/ I've been working on this for a while, been talking to an agent who tells me to keep writing. I wanna share this with you guys and see if anyone enjoys it.
Editing is disabled but comments are enabled.

File: 69831679-indecent-rubber-stamp-grunge-design-with-dust-scratches-effects-can-be-easily-removed-for-a-clean-cr.jpg (10KB, 450x266px) Image search: [Google]

10KB, 450x266px

There was a severe lack of Cultist smut
So I made some
https://pastebin.com/e6mk3uk2

Tags
m/f, f/f, bdsm, HERESY, vague incestual subtext, HERESY, femdom, breeding, mild homoeroticism
Cultist Chan original character by Mr.Culexus

File: 1486831938220.jpg (116KB, 700x1270px) Image search: [Google]

116KB, 700x1270px

>>54760059
Just so its on record that this is thread related
The story is based on a campaign I ran in a homebrew setting that was partially created here on /tg/
Its my baby. So beat it.

>>54760075
>mild homoeroticism
gay

>>54761256
Its a cultist chan smut. If there's not bits mashing up against every other kind of bit I would be disappointed.
I AM disappointed that floor tiles were not involved

>>54764013
>>54764013
writefag here
The sequel will involve floor tiles

>>54766671
nice

File: EverybodyNeedsFriends.png (104KB, 1524x881px) Image search: [Google]

104KB, 1524x881px

Having finally got around to updating the wiki, I just want to say that I thought this (pic related) was a neat little story that was unfairly neglected. As with the best stories of this type, you can take it to mean that either she's surrounded by demons, or she's mentally ill.


Also, regarding the story 'Sadasako's Eternity', I remember the story it's a sequel to but I can't for the life of me remember that story's name. If the author is around could you remind me so I can put a note on the wiki that they're related. Oh, and I thought Sadasako's Eternity was very well-written

>>54760059
>>54760085

Ok. I'm finishing page 01 and my biggest concern is that the imagery doesn't pop. Like...

"The small village was full of the daily labors that always seemed to never get done.The methodical ringing of metal on metal of the smithy and the rhythmic sound of iron saws on wood permeated the air mixed with the sounds of people and their animals."

That could be:

The village was small, no bigger than a shout across, and it was filled now with the sounds of daily labor. It was a bustling organism of early morning life, it's heartbeat the methodical ring of metal against metal in the smithy, it's breath the growl of iron sawing through wild oak."

>>54772726
I feel like there's a middle ground to be found there. Maybe his prose could use a little spicing up, but not too much. After all, the village isn't supposed to be exciting. It's supposed to be homely and mundane.

Maybe something like
The small village was filled a chorus of sounds drifting through the lazy summer air. The baritone lowing of the cattle being led to pasture blended with the percussive ring of metal on metal coming from the smithy, and the rasps of the woodcutters' saws undercut the whole performance with their metronome-regular beats. Always the same score, played out day after day with minor variations, and each performer knew their part and their instruments well.

File: 1502165413723.jpg (72KB, 666x1186px) Image search: [Google]

72KB, 666x1186px

Bump

>>54774874
I think at this point we're discussing style, aren't we? That's really up to anon and what he's trying to convey. Either way, I feel like the prose could be more vivid.

>>54780585
Maybe. I mean, to a certain extent it's all style. I just thought I'd throw in my two cents. To be honest it was 4:30am and I just wanted to bump the thread before I went to bed.

>>54695690

Jeffrey breathed heavily. Half from fear of his life, half from being aroused. It's not every day you have a succubus face to face, so close you can smell her pleasing scent. Jeffrey could see down her tight bodice.

"Now Jeffrey, I have asked you nicely before to stop." Jeffrey nodded. He was tall and lanky with thick lensed glasses and pants to short for him, stopping at his ankles.

"So Jeffrey, forgive me IF I GET PISSED EVERY FUCKING TIME YOU FUCKING SUMMON ME!" She growled as her hand pressed against the wall beside him cracking it with her ungodly strength.

Jeffrey swallowed. "I-I can't help it! I get lonely and you're my only friend."

"I've told you before I'm not your friend! I am a soul sucking demon." She said

"B-but I-I thought succu-"

"Succubus were what?" she interrupted

"Your HUMANS SEX SLAVES!? THAT'S JUST A MYTH JEFFREY, SUCCUBUS ARE NOT SEMEN DEMONS OR WHATEVER YOUR VIDEO GAMES HAVE TOLD YOU, WE EAT SOULS! AND IF I KEEP GETTING SUMMONED BY A RED HEADED LOSER WITH NO SOUL I'LL STARVE AND FUCKING DIE JEFFREY!" She was so angry she was shaking him.

She gripped him by the collar and threw him hard to the ground. "GIVE IT TO ME!" She demanded.

"Okay!" Jeffrey started unzipping his pants. She stepped forward crushing his hands and crotch beneath her heels. " I meant the cross, you idiot." She said trying to remain calm, avoiding another outburst.

Jeffrey sighed, pulled his hands free from her heels and felt in his pockets for it. After a moments hesistation he pulled out what seemed to be a very plain iron cross with simple engravings embedded into it.

She swiped it out of his hands and crushed the metal piece in her grip. The scrapped metal lit up in purple flames with little droplets of purple falling to the ground.

"Next time you summon me, I'll kill you. I don't know how you keep managing to do it but I'll put an end to it." When she finished speaking she burst into purple flames herself and disappeared.

(1/2)

>>54785860

Jeffrey got up from the floor, sighed and dusted off his short pants and zipped them up. He pulled out his phone and went to YouTube. "How to summon a succubus who isn't a bitch."

(2/2)

Feedback please. Hateful comments welcome too.

I don't know why but this is the second time posting in one of these threads and again it's about a loser and a succubus. Im no psychologist but I think I may see a pattern.

>>54785860
>>54785915
Well, your writing is clear an concise, your sentence structure is well formed. Your characters are distinct and seem vivid and well-personified. And your subject matter... um, maybe try branching out next time?

In all honesty, I got a decent kek from it. Good work, anon, keep it up.

>>54735631
>>54730242
>>54717725
Anon I like the part about the the fireflies lancing. Can you please continue your story?

File: 1502253494505.jpg (72KB, 1280x905px) Image search: [Google]

72KB, 1280x905px

Bump

>>54773569
"You came."

The unholy knight presents himself to the old priest, the air around him radiating with dark energies. "You know why I am here."

"Then you know that my duty is to the Jade Commandment." The priest slowly rises, his weight supported by his cane. "It cannot fall." He motions to the massive jade slab behind him.

The knight's stance widens. A spiked shield bearing the face of a snarling demon is raised. "You would risk your life over this false belief? For a useless rock supposedly made by invisible men?"

The priest's hands shift on the cane, treating it more like a staff. "I am not so simple as to just take this as the truth. Humanity needs something to believe in, and great beings that made a this rock is much easier to believe in than just a rock."

"You would say that despite knowing what truly lies beyond this world? You know as well as I do that only demons exist. Gods are but fantasy." The knight's eyes burned as he uttered these words, glowing with the power of hellfire. "They demand absolute loyalty from mankind, and this rock is getting in the way."

"Then I must insist that I cannot budge." It is only now that the priest's stance becomes ready for battle, tensing in anticipation. "I have staked man's future on the Commandment, and I will not let it fall so long as I live."

It is now that the knight's unholy powers begin their crescendo, foul energy thrumming within his polearm and quickening with each second. "Then so be it. They cannot let such defiance stand."

"The Commandment is all we have. You will not deprive it from us."

Only one last remark leaves the knight's mouth before throwing himself into the battle. "Good. I look forward to prying it from your cold, dead hands."

>>54702112
>background music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uyp6c0GZddI

It is a friday evening and on a terrace area of an office building in downtown where three upper-class co-workers. Philip Sharp, a manager in the fourth floor area who is easily noticable and identified with his "signature" red suit that he liked to wear on either fridays, holidays, or when in a good mood. Manuel Hanson, the geek or nerd and generally the "smart guy" of the group, if any of his friends and closer associates need a certain and or specific problem fixed he's the guy who could help, plus has thick rimmed glasses that reinforce his stereotypical nerd feature. And also Shmul Rosenzweig, a good and even close friend of Manuel and Philip, is a foreigner from Grestin who recently earned citizenship for Bronia, the very country the three friends are in and living now. And jokingly, Shmul is the "Token Black Guy" of his tight nit group of friends, a title which earns sarcastic remarks from Mr. Rosenzweig. And in this pleasant enough friday evening they are just about to leave the office soon as they've already clocked out earlier, but decided to have some small talk and minor chit-chat.

"Another pleasant friday evening eh boys?" Philip said as he stretched his arms briefly before putting them down and having his arms on his back. "Any specific plans today? Hang outs? A short toad trip? Hitting the bar? Or just staying at home and revel at being single with no nagging spouse to be heard of?"

"Most definitely stayin at home mang." Said Manuel as he breath the evening air in and adjusted his glasses.

"And vhat to do all zaturday and zunday mein Manny? Vatch and fap to porn? Fiddle around vith those expensive plastic miniature dolls of yourz? Vatch more of your favortie cartoonz? Or more video gamez to rot your mind?" Said Shmul Rosenzwieg

“Oh hardy-har-har Shmu! And no, I’m actually gonna be teaching a neighbor-next-door’s daughter how to play a clarinet!” Said Manuel Hanson

File: Metatron.png (20KB, 220x244px) Image search: [Google]

20KB, 220x244px

(Based off my earlier stories for "The Price")

"It's not 'Thou Shalt Not Kill', it's 'Thou Shalt Not Murder'."

"There's a big fucking difference, I've learned."

"Murder is when you go out and hunt someone down to kill them for no other reason than your own personal gain. That's a dread sin. Heard it straight from a Seraphim myself."

"Now, killing someone who's trying to murder you? Different story."

"I... should start at the beginning."

"I had just learned my first two spells. Telekinesis and Heal. Move stuff around. Heal cuts, burns, broken bones. Awesome, right?"

"Spells are learned by studying runes until your head... sparks. I can't really *define* what it feels like, maybe an 'aha' moment. Long story short, study a spell with a lightbulb nearby. If it flickers, you've learned the spell. Some people find entire spellbooks. I found enough pages from two entirely separate books to learn two spells, and that... well, let's just say that was enough to get me into the clubhouse. It's a lot more complex."

"Anyway."

"Telekinesis you can practice by moving heavier things. Heavier the object, the more mana you burn, but eventually you can move heavier objects faster with less mana."

"Healing... I could cut myself open and heal myself over and over, but that just sounded... stupid. And likely to get me sent to a psyche ward if my parents found out."

"So I volunteered at a hospital. No, it's not an original idea... and it turns out, it's not a smart one, either."

"Oh, sure, it worked great for a while. Heal discretely, and I get to practice my spell and the four year old girl -caught in a crossfire between a convenience store robber and three cops who shoot everything that moves- gets to go home minus the three new holes she came in with."

"Then one day, a guy walks into the hospital while I'm sweeping, and asks for me by name."

"Then he pulls out a gun and starts shooting."

>>54796107
"I ran. Wasn't like I am now, I was scared out of my mind, panicking."

"He got between me and the exit, and just kept firing and reloading, not caring who he hit. He shot a nurse, a doctor, a patient, then said that every death was on me."

"I didn't know who that guy was then."

"I don't know how I decided to fight back. Maybe it was me being a kid, having a hero complex. Maybe it was him killing people and blaming me. Maybe it was being able to lift 300 lbs. with my mind and realizing I could really hurt someone."

"I Darth Vadered the son of a bitch and threw him into a wall. Then I threw chairs, trash cans, trays, scalpels, everything I could at him."

"I don't know just how much punishment someone can take before they just finally, drop, but every time I thought he'd finally die, he got back up. I finally threw a fire extinguisher as hard as I could with what mana I had left at his head."

"It was like a bobblehead, the way his broken neck wiggled his head around."

"I just ran after that."

"Fortunately, the Templars found me."

"I want you to understand: by their own admission, that's typically not something a magus says. Ever."

"Turns out the guy was from a society. No, not the Illuminati- they're nuts, but they're not assholes. This society... I'm not going to tell you their name. It'd be like sentencing you to die."

"Long story short, they enforce 'No Good Deed Goes Unpunished' as a religion. Assholes, every last one."

"You've probably heard the same sob story dozens of times. It wasn't safe for me to stay with my family. It wasn't safe for them to even remember me."

"I healed people for free and it cost me my life."

"I can't get my old life back. Prom? Graduation? College? That ship sailed."

"What I can do is make sure that whoever sent that assassin regrets it for the rest of their very short, miserable lives."

"Don't get all misty-eyed on me, son. You'll hear plenty of those stories. It's the price we pay."

>>54786265
yeah, I was working on my visa appointment. I will continue soon.

File: 1502317211916.jpg (145KB, 813x1152px) Image search: [Google]

145KB, 813x1152px

>>54800221
Sweet

>>54778434
Is it me or does this look alot like Rand Al'thor from the wheel of time series?

>>54735631
Lidrana watched the sun go westward over the dappled sky. The woods were growing dark and Coeth Mara was filled with the sound of nocturnal activities. It was a nice homely sound that had lulled her to sleep when she was younger. She had remembered her father and mother whispering to each other over the sounds of daily life while going to sleep. She didn't remember what they said but she was glad that they were there.

She giggled as she felt a pair of strong arms grip her waist and a strong body pressed against her. She had heard Durvael of course. He was not the most stealthy elf in the armour of the eternal guard, and she had roamed with her mother's waywatcher's long enough. The two of them spent a moment kissing and feeling the heat of their bodies against each other before she broke off.

"So, how is my valiant warrior doing? Has he come back after chastising the brutal Kegh'mon?" Her mother may have given her the duty of looking after the human interloper, but her lover had volunteered to do the hard work of wardening him. It allowed them to spend far more time together.

He shrugged and leaned in for another kiss, prompting Lidrana to put a finger on his lips. She winked before continuing, "You haven't answered my question yet." Durvael sighed and released his grip on her

"My lady. The human was awake when your mother's healers came to change his bandages. I kept an eye on him as the last human here had tried to attack them. I must confess, I was disappointed. He turned around and went back to bed."
Lidrana wasn't too surprised. Humans were after all base creatures, and eating and sleeping was all they could do. She had warded off humans with waywatchers before. While she didn't harbour the same amount of hatred for them as most of her kin, she felt pity and some repugnance at their sight. Poor, dirty creatures caked with mud and grubbing the fields for food.

She beckoned her lover to a more secluded spot and began slipping out of her dress...

>>54726854
Oslo the Dragon Slayer

"There he is, Oslo the Dragon Slayer. I heard he killed a dragon the size of a barn before it even had a chance to breath fire!" said a man pointing to a knight in armor.

"I heard he killed Mikara the Black Dread and rescued a princess from its lair. And later married the beauty."

"That's nothing. Its said up north a barbarian king begged him to destroy an entire frost wyrm nest and he did it. Single handed even!"

"Oh yeah? Well I heard-"

The peasants stopped talking and gawked at him as he walked by. His full body plate mail armour shining in the mid day sun. His long sword resting in its scabbard. Most dragonhunters opt for Zweihander if they go for a sword at all, while most use spears. But not Ozlo. Ozlo had been killing dragons for aslong as he could remember. At this point he could use a rotten tree branch and it would make little difference to him, he was just that good. So good that all the stories they told about him were true even the most outrageous of them were, if not abit different to the truth.

(1/6) this story is done I just need to post it. Please bump until I can finish posting it all.

>>54806786

He had killed the dragon the size of barn before it could breath fire but in it's defence he had jumped off a cliff to catch it off-guard midflight. Dragons never looked up.

Mikara the Black Dread, she had been a tough one, he had had his beard burnt fighting that one, an entire year of grooming his facial hair and for what? A snot nosed brat with a flat chest and washboard hips no good for childbirth. She had cried the entire trip back to her father's castle. And to make it worse to his surprise she begged her father let them marry. Apparently he loved her and she had paid his heroic valour with her cherry which was a abominable lie but none the less a crossbow wedding ensued. Glady his wife was a heavy sleeper and the castle guards were still drunk from the wedding.

He had gone north to get as far from princesses and castles as he possibly could when he was captured by a cruel barbarian king who stripped him of his armour and sword and forced him into a frost wyrm nest with not even his small clothes. They barbarians guarded the only entrance in and out and told him he would be allowed to leave and given back his possessions if he could kill all the frost wyrms. That had been a sticky pickle for Oslo but with a full bladder and warm piss he melted off a tall thin ice stalagmite to use for a spear and sneaked deeper into the nest. He found them sleeping and managed to stab a few that were caught unaware before the rest woke and he had to actively engage them. It had been a nasty fight and he wished he still had his beard for he was sick a full week after leaving the lair. The barbarian king's men gave back his possessions and the king let him stay in his house to nurse his cold since he was so impressed with Oslo.

(2/6)

>>54807056

Oslo made it to the farm just outside the village. The local Lord was paying him handsomely to kill what he had described as "The most terrifying creature he had ever had the bad luck to set his eyes upon."
Oslo had asked for and been given a cow to lure the beast from out the cave which was located on the farm where the creature had made its lair.

He had learned from his years of experience that engaging dragons in enclosed spaces was deadly for a multitude of reasons. He led the cow outside the cave and unhooked the leash. It had to look natural, dragons were smart creatures. He left the cow to graze then hid in a nearby bush. He picked up a stone off the ground and threw it at the cow. The cow mooed and cocked up its head and looked around then lowered it and continued to graze.

The dragon hearing a cow outside crept slowly out it's cave. It popped it's head out first into the sunshine and looked about.

From what Oslo could see, it was by far the ugliest dragon he had ever encountered. It had small beady eyes and a squashed nose with a jaw too thick for its head. It was small yet fat. If dragons would inbreed for a hundred generations this would be their incestuous and no doubt retarded result.

The dragon, upon seeing no danger skipped towards to cow. Oslo waited for it to take its first bite. When a dragon ate, it was at its most vulnerable. The cow was placidly chewing cud as the dragon crept close with not a care in the world. The cow had no notion of its inevitable fiery death. The dragon sniffed the cow, looked around again. Then slowly made its way behind the cow and promptly "mounted" it. The cow began mooing and trying desperately to escape but the dragon had leverage and strength and so held it in place.

Oslo didn't know what to think as the pink pasty scaled lizard went to pound town on the poor creature. "In all my years..."

(3/6)

>>54807332

He emerged from the bush and charged forward, towards the cow and dragon sword in hand. Sure he had planned on feeding the cow to the beast but that death was much "cleaner" than this. The dragon way too enveloped in the throws of its passion making was unaware of the knight sprinting towards him and his reluctant partner. Only when Oslo got close enough to cut off the poor creature's head and end it's suffering did the dragon become aware of his existence.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR!?" The dragon roared as little bits of flame escaped from its oversized jaws and with smoke whirling out it's squashed nose in tendrils.

"That was disgusting. You are by far the most deviant and vile creature I have ever met! Can't you kidnap princesses and burn villages like a normal dragon!" He shouted.

"Have you ever tried fucking a princess? They are too tiny for me. As for burning villages, well I can't bloody well Fuck a village." The dragon said with venom in his voice.

"What does any of those things have to do with intercourse?" Oslo asked remembering his small bride.

"Everything. We dragons burn villages, get killed by Knights. Steal princesses,get killed by Knights. TAKE A LATE AFTERNOON FLIGHT TO WATCH THE SUNSET, GET KILLED BY KNIGHTS JUMPING OFF FUCKING CLIFFS. THE WAY I SEE IT IF ANYTHING IS WORTH DYING FOR. ITS FUCKING."

(4/6)

>>54807519

"Can't you find yourself a nice lady dragon rather than raping a poor cow?" Oslo asked.

"Human you see me. Other dragons find me repulsive. I once had a frost wyrm ladyfriend but I haven't heard from her in years."

"Aye you're ugly and lonely. Sorry for that but I cannot let you go on having unnatural relations with cows. It's time to die." Oslo raised his sword and fell into his battle stance.

"So be it." The dragon sighed.

The dragon lunged at Oslo snarling. Oslo rolled out if it's way and cut at its side. It would try take flight as soon as it could but he had prevented that by damaging it's wing. Blood of the dragon and the cow stained his blade as it dripped into the grass which was already red from cow blood.

"Thats not very fair now is it!" The dragon breathed fire at him. Oslo lept over the cow's corpse and hid behind it. He could feel the heat that singed the dead cow and smell the burnt meat. Smoke crawled up from the blackened corpse as Oslo got up from behind the dead cow and sprinted towards the Dragon which was preparing another fiery breath. But before it could deliver, Oslo's sword was rammed through its throat as he switched both hands onto the hilt driving the blade it deeper into the lizard. Blood and smoke sprayed out of the wound covering Oslo.
"F-F-FUUUUUuuuuuck." The lizard's voice softened with its last breath before falling over as dead meat.

(5/6)

>>54807732

Oslo yanked his sword free with both hands out of the dragons throat and started cleaning his blade as he sat on its corpse.
His armour was red with blood and had black spots where the smoke had stained it.
"If loneliness is the cause of such monstrous acts then I best find myself some company." He stared at the smoking, headless corpse of the cow.
"Might be a good time to retire. Who knows maybe that lanky princess fattened up after all these years." finished cleaning his blade, he slid it back into its scabbard and began walking back to town.

(6/6)

Yay third story had nothing to do with a succubus.
Feedback welcome.

>>54806786
>>54807056
>>54807332
>>54807519
>>54807732
>>54807808

This is...some weird as hell story. I am mildly weirded out by this.

Good job.

>>54806786
>>54807056
>>54807332
>>54807519
>>54807732
>>54807808
That started odd and got much weirder. Fuck me if I didn't find it entertaining though.

As for feedback, the prose could use a little touching up in places. Nothing major, just some sentences are awkwardly worded, others need to be split with commas, that sort of thing.

>>54809821
I tried to make something that looked like the image I used for reference since the image itself looks weird.
>>54811028
Yea sorry for the prose I ended up finishing late in the morning, I should have spent alittle more time editing it.

>>54796107
>>54796428

I like it. Reminds me abit of chronicle. The telekinetic part was my favorite bit, good job anon.

>>54792165
EdgyI know it's supposed to be from the context derived from the pictureI like it.

>>54795861
This feels like it just stopped abruptly, is there any more?

Bum

>>54805040
>>54805040

>>54832362
So this is where it all started.

Must say, it doesn't look like much. And yet, thanks to this tiny little rocket, man's been able to finally flee this rotting world and begin its own interplanetary network.

It feels a bit insulting, seeing how much it fell apart without us. I'd hoped that before we left, someone would have had some presence of mind to put up some sort of stasis field around this piece of history. That way, we'd know just how the genesis of our spacefaring days looked like. As it is now, it looks like all this crap our ancestors dumped on this planet just rose up one day and tried to eat this ship. If just feels a bit disrespectful that this is what's become of it.

Perhaps sadder than its state was its name. Seriously, Na-sa? What the hell's a Na-sa? I mean, all our ships nowadays use names like "Endymion" and "Zohar", names of ancient heroes and spirits that are meant to inspire awe in anyone who hears the name. I can't evven find anyone who could help me explain what a Na-sa is. I only even figured out the name was supposed to mean something because I heard some local homeless guy say that Na-sa was meant to be a name. The guy also said he heard that it meant something, so maybe it's also an acronym? I mean, we do have silly names like the InterSpace Corporation (ISC, or some people call it Icey) and Trans-Terran Transport Association (TTTA). Maybe Na-Sa meant something just as silly to the backwater people we descended from, cocooned up in dying world.

But all that said, it is kind of amazing how something like this flew. No warp drives, no super-efficient fuel that has absolute zero impact upon the planetary or spacial ecosystem, not even the power to go any further than Colony Luna. Just a half-dozen people in stuffy suits, driving a tiny shuttle that struggled to even leave Earth's gravity with the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, they'd finally reach that satellite orbiting this planet.

And they pulled it off.

>>54837916
That image reminded me of WALL-E. So I kind of keked abit when the one character didn't know what NASA was.

File: 1452472726760.png (536KB, 776x840px) Image search: [Google]

536KB, 776x840px

I passed her by every evening on my way home from work. It was amazing when I first saw her those five years ago. Her model was more lifelike than any prior to her release, and the bar owner had forked out the extra money to get a custom face rather than using one of the normal stock options. There had been a crowd around her that first night when I glanced through the slightly tinted window into the bar lit up by neon and black lights. She was 5’4” with long brunette hair and features that looked like they might have incorporated Native American elements. There was a crowd around her every night, or there had been, for about a year. Then the mystique and the newness of her seemed to where off. New models came out, more lifelike than she was. They didn’t have the seams around joints that she did, and they felt warm and human to the touch while she remained cold.

It was around that time that I went into the bar for the first time and talked to her. Even with the passage of a year and all the updates in technology since here model's release, her approximation of humanity was striking. We talked like people. She told me her name was Ashley and she told me about herself, and it felt real. It wasn’t like I was hearing canned dialogue like with most of the model’s at the office. She had personality and it manifested itself in strange ways like her strangely nasally sounding laugh, or the fact that after a patron had shown her a picture of some baby lambs she had scoured the internet for everything she could learn about them and downloaded several terabytes of lamb pictures and videos which she proceeded to show me over the course of the next few months.

File: 1452472790670.jpg (356KB, 1115x1576px) Image search: [Google]

356KB, 1115x1576px

>>54839641
But time went on and the wear and tear of everyday life began to take a toll on her. The gaps between her seams became more noticeable, the artificial coloring in her epoxy resin based skin began to fade, leaving her a pale greyish-white. Still, her mind didn’t slow. If anything, the more we talked, the more human she became. I mean it made sense. She was programmed to adapt and learn based on the human behavior she interacted with. So even as she began to decay, I grew more and more connected to her. I wanted to see her smile outside of the bar. I wanted to take her to the park and show her some of the last bits of nature in city. I wanted to laugh at bad movies with her while we cuddled on the couch. I wanted to be more than just the 26 year old IT guy that came in every evening and bitched about his job to her.

Then AutoServe, the company that produced her, launched a model that blew everything prior out of the water. Using stem cells the newest companion robots had skin, not just a close approximations to it, but actual living tissue. Their AI had been dumbed down after it had conflicted with the OS in the model just prior to this new one, but they had attempted to make up for that with the most life like appearance possible.

I hadn’t thought much about those new models, mostly because they were so insanely expensive. With the factory line model going $750,000 there was no way that I could afford something like that. Hell, there was no way that most people could afford it. The company that I worked with had only just updated from the ancient vaguely human looking bots to a cheap model that had come out two years after Ashley, there was no way they would be willing to pay out the kind of money that it would take to upgrade all of our automated workers to this new gen.

File: 1452472912711.png (730KB, 962x865px) Image search: [Google]

730KB, 962x865px

>>54839659
As I walked home from work, thinking about how some of the women had been talking about what they would do with one of the new models if they had the money to get one, I passed by the alleyway between Ashley’s bar and the club next door. I saw a hand sticking out of a cardboard box. At first I thought that someone had been murdered, but as a got closer to the box, I saw the labeling, “robotics disposal” and the faded greyish-white faux skin that could only have been Ashley’s.

I panicked. Had she had a malfunction? Had she crashed? Had her mind been fried?

Looking inside the bar I found the answer. She’d been replaced. I couldn’t see the new droid, only the crowd of people surrounding it, but I knew what had to be at the center of that throng. Walking back to the ally, I stared at the box that held Ashley. She was just being thrown out like e-waste; like she didn’t even matter. I’d pirated stuff in the past, and I think I went shoplifting once with a high school girlfriend, but I’d never really stolen anything of great size of value before. I wasn’t that kind of guy. Yet, I couldn’t stop myself from picking up that box, which was much heavier than it looked, and taking it. No one in the bar noticed an IT guy with a box of e-waste. No one on the walk home was suspicious; though a one of my neighbors and his boyfriends asked if I needed any help getting to my apartment.

I rested the box on my knees so that I could wrestle open the door to my apartment. Once inside, I began to put her together, almost immediately. Even forgot to take of my shoes in the house. What was I doing with my life? Here I was in my house piecing together a stolen droid. But I couldn’t convince myself that what I was doing was sad or wrong. I’d talked with Ashley, laughed with her, and spent hours with her. Maybe she wasn’t real, but she was real enough. So I turned her on and the faded droid opened her eyes, smiled, and asked, “Wanna watch this video of a baby goat I found?”

>>54837916
It was nothing short of a miracle they even made it to the moon and back. These guys only had sub-light transportation, a ship without artificial gravity, and a barely-existent navigation system, and yet they were the ones who planted the Liberty Flag that's now a landmark for the Confederation. All because of this ship.

All put together, it still feels impossible that this thing just happened to inspire our interstellar vessels, carrying entire cities and traveling across the distant stars that were once mere fantasies. There had to be all this interim for us to jump from this to the starships. There had to be some reason why we forgot about something so important to our future. It couldn't have just coincidence that this is what became of this thing.

There's probably something I could do with all my free time once I get back on the ship. Maybe one of them might have information on what happened to Na-sa and how they created the first interstellar ship. It'll certainly be a step up from watching commercials and variety shows every day. Who knows, maybe I'll find something I can use when I start college next cycle...

>>54839641
>>54839659
>>54839792

I usually don't like the first person perspective but this story was touching anon. Good job

>>54839641
>>54839659
>>54839792
neat little story, anon. I enjoyed it, well done

>>54815020
Dave: Think we should stop waiting for them? It's been awhile.
Bob: Just give them a few more minutes. I'm sure they will be here soon.

Years later

Dave:We're goddamn skeletons now. What are we going to do?
Bob:We can try to hitchhike.

To be continued.

>>54841780
>>54843908
thanks, this is the first time I've ever tried my hand at one of these threads.

File: 1502550763879.jpg (330KB, 562x900px) Image search: [Google]

330KB, 562x900px

Hey artist/author who writes them Chris Orksen stories. Look what I got at Pic related!>>54695681

>>54819710
Relax, threre's more to come. Just maybe one or two more, just busy with certain things ranging from work to alot of house chores.

Hopefully will continue >>54795861 later.

>>54849994
Ok sweet

>>54795861

"And what's this I hear? Banter among fellow co-workers I see?" Came the voice of a woman who now just walked in to the balcony area. It was the lady friend and fellow co-worker of Philip, Manny, and Shmul, it was Debra Moss. Who is also a secretary for another manager in a different floor of the office.

"DEBRA!" Philip, Shmul, and Manny exclaimed their female friend's name as she walked towards her male friends with four cold beers at her hands.

"And where'd you get such chilling refreshments Debs?" Asked Philip.

"My boss let me take a few from his private chiller, 'cause its gonna be the weekend and stuff. Knew you guys tend to go out in here either every fridays or when in a good mood, the balcony area, smoke a few sticks, chats, and a view of the city."

Debra passed the drinks to her friends as they begun to crack open the caps which results in satisfying hisses from the bottles being opened. And Debra followed to in drinking up the refreshments she brougt for herself and friends.

"So any plans this weekend boys?" Debra asked as she takes another sip.

"Just planning to stay home and enjoy the single life of not having a nagging spouse." Said Philip in deadpan as he takes a sip.

"I'm gonna be teaching a lil' girl next door how to play a clarinet." Said Manny as he blew softly to the opening of his beer bottle making some echoing sound off of it.

"Vell, remember Celestine Powers?" Asked Shmul.

“The pretty ashen-haired woman? What about her?” Manny asked.

“Well my planz for da veekend? Celestine invited me to have dinner vith her and two friendz, I’m going to be having dinner vith Celestine and two lady friendz of her’z, tvinz!”

“Oooo! Sounds intriguing Shmu. And should I assume you’s gonna go to Celestine’s invite just to hook up with one of the twins eh?” Slyly said Philip.

And Debra jokingly inquired. “Or maybe both?” Which earned some chuckles from Philip, Manny and even Shmul himself.

(will continue again)

File: hollower_by_kate_fox-dbjfv51.jpg (108KB, 1024x556px) Image search: [Google]

108KB, 1024x556px

>You....

Oh my god. It caught me. It's over.
We're all going to die here. We're going to be claimed by the temple's curse. There's no way out. No way we could ever outrun him.

>You, who have intruded upon this place. You, who have defiled the sanctity of this temple...

I knew it was a stupid idea to listen to Marie! I should have known there was some sort of crazy zombie ghost knight just walking around here! All she said was that it was 'just some hocus rumor meant to scare off adventurers'! What the hell kind of world does she live in? Why wasn't I invited?

>You, who so brazenly strode into our realm...

Why did it have to be like this? I'm not even out of college! I still haven't gotten married! Or laid even! I still have a job to start! I still have so much to live for! What do I do? What else is there to do? Nobody's even around to help me here!

>There is only one judgment for one such as yourself...

Please, God. Please, I know that we haven't really talked much, but I'm really desperate here! Please, just give me some sign that you actually care about me! I'll even do whatever you want after it! Just don't let me die here!

>You are sentenced...

I feel my breath tighten. My heart is just bursting.

>...to deliver me shrubbery.

What?

>It has been ages since the errand boy was sent out to get it for us. We fear that he might dead, and our temple is in need of some more decor. So, how about you help us out and I can let you walk around here? Fair deal?

I think my legs just gave out on me. My pants feel like they seriously need to be replaced. I can't even will my mouth to put words together.

>Uhhh...you can take a moment if you want. Not like we cannot just wait for them for another...what, thousand years?

>>54703430
Two things:
1) You chose a great name for writing threads. I wish I had thought of that.
2) ALL. PSYKER. PARTY.

REVIVE BUMP

>>54805040
Bohemond breathed in the fresh air. It had an invigorating quality that was very hard to describe. Doktors and seneschals had said that the sea air was good for one's health, but it paled in comparison to the enchanted forest.

He was enjoying the view from the top of what would be best described as a balcony, if balconies could grow out of trees on their own. He was at a height that dwarfed that tallest tower in Castle Carrard and the view was spectacular. The elven city stretched out around him, bustling with signs of life that he would never have guessed existed. A series of domestic vignettes played out before him. Elves rode through the roads and thoroughfares on slender and graceful steeds. There was a tremendous vitality to the entire scene laid out before him. Peasants would trudge about their daily lives grimly and a manner that would make goblins feel pity. The elves seemed to glide rather than walk as they went about doing their business.

Bohemond was supposed to meet his mysterious benefactress here and was told to make himself presentable.He had been given clothes similar to the ones that elves wore. He had also been permitted to shave after much haranguing with the warrior who was his warden. Durvael was difficult to please and Bohemond had to shave with the uncomfortable specter of a fully armed warrior standing guard over him.

Still bohemond didn't look half bad compared to the stoic elf warrior standing guard over him. He might not be as tall, his hair might be short and cropped and he didn't have the fine features of Durvael, but he made up for it in the squareness of his jaw, his well muscled physique and what he hoped were his charm. The elven maids had been gracious to him so far, but Bohemond wondered if they were humoring him. A noble would be much harder to charm.

>>54870721
>>54870721

>>54827685

The Golden Tongue.

Inspiration, a gentle voice and ambition. These were all the things that he believed were necessary to become a great bard. Upon completing his time at a rather expensive bards college, learning all the great tales and Poems, he decided it was time to establish himself in a city. But upon reaching his first Inn he was rejected without even more than a single word coming out of his mouth.
"Sorry bub, I've got bards lined up for the next two months, I can't possibly afford to pay a no name amateur." was the first inn keepers remark, and the next and the one after that. He couldn't catch a break. Nobody would would hire him.

(1/12) yes you read the right, sorry for the long story.

bymo

>>54865655
"Never shall the twins meet" the manual warned us. It sounds so easy on paper, but the government seriously underestimated the ability we had to contain two ultra-powerful children with the power to literally rip part the world with the immense weight of their powers.

Their mother was a member of our PsyOps program, our top agent. She'd served her country with her gifts for decades. She was our best telekinetic, able to break physical objects with mere thoughts and capable of even rewriting the laws of physics at one point. In her service, she did incredible things - send bombs to space, salvage sunken bombers, assassinate terrorist leaders with only a suggestion - all to protect this country. The issue was that same issue with all top agents: if they didn't die, they got old. They eventually couldn't keep up with the rigors of constant mental work. Our only options would be to either have her retire or work her to death until a replacement was found.

Funny thing about off-the-record agencies like this is that the typical laws abut workplace ethics and regulations don't apply to us. Our boss didn't believe in retirement. He said that she had to be our resource, our weapon, lest some rival group attempt to steal her for themselves. Our star agent didn't really take to the idea well. As a statement of her defiance, she got pregnant with twins. Boss didn't even as much as bat an eye. At the time, everyone had thought that he had caved in and let her retire.

He didn't.

About a month before the due date, our boss abducted her. Apparently, he kept to his word about keeping her from the world at large. The father was assassinated, anyone's memories of her wiped, and even a faked death certificate to keep the authorities blind. It was disgusting to see someone so obsessed. A lot of us in the agency obviously raised an uproar once we heard what happened, but we couldn't do a thing for her.

>>54879472
After all, he was the boss. For every piece of dirt we had on him, he had about three on each of us. Add that to our off-the-books status and we realized how rigged the situation was against us. All we could do was just pass by her each day, watching as the mother wasted away in that hospital bed, too doped up on depressants to even respond to the world around her. The only time her dosage was let up even a little was as she gave birth. I couldn't stand to watch it. Childbirth was meant to be a happy occasion, but that bastard, he just saw it as the end of a nuisance. As soon as the kids were cleaned, he just shipped them away and forced their mother to get back to work.

Guess it goes without saying that our "top agent" continued resisting. She never spoke a word to him, never even looked at him. Only way we knew she was even still there was because sometimes we'd see her look at one of us as we walked by. Couldn't help but feel sorry, but she still smiled reassuringly. Not sure why she was so worried about us when she's the one who was in trouble. Needless to say, but the boss refused to accept anything less than what once was our finest. He stopped at nothing - threatening the kids, torture, denial of even basic amenities. We were all pretty convinced that the woman should just be let go, but there was no way anyone would ever say that to our boss. Not when he was so hellbent on getting this one person back.

I can't remember how many years the man spent trying to interrogate the poor woman, but eventually his obsession began impacting everything else. With all the money spent on trying to get her awake and in shape, we were running a steep cliff of deficit without stopping. Even with the rest of the PsyOps agents working, we only barely kept up with the debts if we were lucky. Eventually though, even that wasn't enough. Our boss was relieved of duty, and the PsyOps program was dissolved.

>>54870721
Presently he heard the tramp of armoured feet. Instantly, Bohemond's instincts, honed to a sharp point by his trainers and experience, made him adopt a fighting stance. A hand reached for his sword before he remembered where he was.
A troop of elves, wearing armor similar to Durvael marched in the balcony in lockstep. Their faces were covered in helms of excellent craftsmanship, so delicately shaped that they seemed more like an artist's sculpture.
Their armor was covered in spiralling designs that seemed to be largely some sort of trees and leaves. Their shields and spears shone brightly in the noon day sun.

The elven cohort stood like statues on either side of the doorway. Bohemond could suddenly hear the silence. It was an expectant pause, like a storm about to break. He inhaled for a moment, and even that sound seemed too loud in the sudden quiet.
The door opened, and a large number of elven maidens entered. To say they were beautiful would have been an understatement. Each one of them was flawless. The garments they wore were exquisite gowns that seemed to be made of shimmering silk. Their faces seemed to be sculpted into perfection. The maidens wore small circlets of silver that had flowers entwined in them, framing their head and hair beautifully.

At the end of this procession were two elves, so similar in look and build that Bohemond could see that they must be related. Their hair was red, and their eyes as blue as sapphires. They carried with them an air of command that Bohemond had seen his father carry. The elves stiffened ever so slightly in their presence. One of the elves wore a crown made of flowering plants, elaborately carved, or grown, while carrying a staff.

Their eyes met and it seemed that she looked straight through him. Part of him wanted to cast his eyes down and not meet her terrible gaze. Another part of him wanted to gaze upon that terrible, beautiful face in the crown and to drink down and memorize every detail.

>>54880081
We had thought this would be the end of our boss' insanity, but he vanished just as soon as the order was given, and he took his agent with him. Desperate, we asked around. I found a guy in the NSA who had a clue about things being off with PsyOps and helped us hack into some private servers. Turns out our boss had an entire program set in place to train our top agent's twin daughters into becoming the next generation of PsyOps, replacing their mother. They had already begun exhibiting some psychic powers, but it seemed that their powers only focused on a single element - one fire, the other ice. The locations of the two facilities they were locked away in wasn't recorded in the documents.

Shortly after, we found the last thing we wanted to see. Two bodies in a ditch in Arizona. A man and a woman, handcuffed together. The murder implement was a handgun in the man's grip. My thoughts instantly turned to the twins. Their mother would never see them again. They're both alone in the world now, and it's our fault.

It would have been the end of the nightmare our boss brought upon us, but then my NSA contact intercepted two messages with the same terrible news: The twins have suddenly grown too powerful to control. One facility was reduced to rubble and slag, the other had frozen over, with everyone inside encased in ice. Nothing either facility tried worked - not hastened programs, not presents, and certainly not guns. According to the reports, it seemed like they figured out what happened to their mother.

Now the two are carving a path of massive carnage, potentially threatening the safety of the entire world. Their chaos-ridden trails are unmistakably drawing them closer and closer to where their mother died. We have no idea what they plan to do when they finally cross paths. All we can do is pray that their mother, now free of that horrible man, can forgive us, and hopefully the world.

So I had a question on what could be posted in this thread, and I’m trying to workshop greater plot points of my campaign. It wouldn’t be written in any whimsical way just certain big plot points and reveals, would that be okay?

>>54877561
>>54877561

"Fine then, I'll sing to the masses, my honeyed words will bring them to me in the hundreds and line my pockets with gold!" He proclaimed to himself.
He sat himself in a crowded market on a wooden box and started playing his lute and singing "The Shy Maid" but nobody paid him any mind, as the crowds swirled around him like a river split by a single rock. He decided to play his favorite song "The Golden King's Ransom" and played it to his hearts content but still the river of bodies continued to flow past him, obvlious to his existence.
Desperate, he decided to play a song he knew was popular but one he had no love for "The Tavern Wench's Hourglass." A dirty and vile series of words, describing both the woman's figure and her charging by the hour. He hated every note he played, every syllable sprung by his lips but the men in the crowd circled around him laughing and singing along and some dropped pennies into his lute case, pennies! He didn't know who should feel dirtier the Tavern Wench or himself. He had attracted a crowd but they paid very little, while he had violated his mouth for their momentary pleasure.

To survive the cost of living he had to play dirty and raunchy songs in the market for many weeks. He tried again at the inns and taverns with no luck, even worse some of the upmarket taverns and inns turned him away becuase of them hearing him playing those raunchy songs at the market.

(2/12)

File: 1491510703135.jpg (171KB, 1000x731px) Image search: [Google]

171KB, 1000x731px

>>54883504
sure

>>54884624

Angry with Inn keepers, the men in the crowd and most of himself,he lay awake at night deep in thought.
"Why has my college and lute not paid for themselves? The life of a bard was said to be one filled with gold and woman so why do I have pennies and men?" He tossed and turned thinking of ways out of his predicament.
A few months passes and he found himself permanent employment in a very shady and dirty(for two reasons) tavern. "The Whore's Hole".
The Tavern owner, a woman with a very prominent moustache and tits sagging out of her low cut top was kind to him. She let him sleep in the kitchens for free and he could still play in the market during the day but he had to play at the tavern at night. But still it was the same dirty songs and rhymes with the same men who listened to him in the market, attending the tavern at night. Life was getting better for him but his sanity was draining. He was dying inside.

(3/12)

>>54884763

Opportunity found him as he was playing in the market one day when King's guard and the royal announcer piled into the market form and rank. The trumpet of the announcer drowned out his lute and the noise of the market until there was nothing left but silence.
"Hear one and hear all! The King has announced that one month from next Monday a competition will be held for he or she who can sing or recite the best poem or song! All are welcome to enter. The winner will be awarded immense riches and become the new Court Bard to the King. That will be all." and with that they filed out of the market.
He was so excited he packed up his lute early and made off to go practice. He believed an original verse or song would be best. So instead of playing at the market in the day he spent time writing in the kitchen of The Whore's Hole. Every thing. Everything he wrote was bad. Shit, terrible. Not really just they weren't about things he liked. All that time spent playing and learning those songs about whores and slutty woman had had an effect on his writing. Everything he wrote came out as smut. So not an original piece then..
He decided to practice the songs he already knew. He spent two weeks practising until he felt his performance had become perfection. Pretty smug with himself he asked the tavern keeper if he could perform the songs for the usual crowd. She said he could if they said it was fine.

(4/12)

>>54884958

When night came around, he asked the regulars of the Whore's Hole if he could play his gentle melodies for them and they having known for some time allowed him to. He sang and sang the whole night through and even produced a few tears when the more sombre tunes were played. Proud of his performance he asked for their feedback. " 'at wath da moth beauthiful thing ith ever 'eard" said Sailor Saul. "Aye laddie that was some good shit" said Jern the mercenary. He went to bed that night happy. For the first time in months he felt alive again. But right before sleep took him, he thought "but what about my competition?"

Immediately after he woke up, he decided he had practised as best he could, now was the time to measure himself against his competition. He went tavern to tavern, Inn to Inn and scoured every market the city had. He found none close to his level. On his way back home to the Whore's Hole, just a little bit up the street from it. He encountered a girl.

(5/12)

>>54885016

She had flowing, long pale hair like snow. Light blue eyes that cut like ice and skin as fair as the moon. She was singing a song he had never heard before, in a language foreign to his ears. He did not understand what she was saying but he understood the song. It was a song about two lovers, their greatest moments, their worst. Their fighting during the night, the death of their first born child, finding each other again after a long separation, dying of old age together in each others arms.
Corny he would have said it was but his eyes were tearing. Her song was like silver, shining in his ears if that were possible. He wasn't even sure that's how the song went only that was what he felt when she sang. If she had to enter the competition he would lose in an instant even without the aid of a musical instruments she was levels above any singer in the city, above him, bloody hell perhaps above anyone in the country.
He walked up to her.
"Greetings"
She looked at him and spoke a single word in her language and stared at him.
"Excuse me?"
"Oh sorry, I forget people speak the" common" in this city." her words were slowly pronounced as if she had little experience speaking common and with an accent but even this simple sentence was beautiful in his ears.
"Where did you learn to sing like that?" He asked.
"Oh you enjoyed my singing?" she blushed.
"Yes, it was lovely, what's your secret?"
"Well I'm glad you enjoyed it but it is a" secret", If I let you know, then I'd have some fierce competition for the King's Contest." She said with a wry smile.
"BLASTED!!" He thought.
"Oh well I wish you the best of luck." He mumbled.
"Thank you. You must come watch, if you liked that song you will love what I have prepared for the King." She turned and left him.
"A secret?" Perhaps a practicing technique or maybe it's the language."
"I must follow her and find out."
He trailed after her. Hiding behind corners and ducking behind people when she turned around.

(6/12)

>>54885113

Finally after following her for an hour she entered an inn and didn't come out for a couple hours until night fell. He concluded this was where she was staying at. He climbed the side of the building beside the inn just on the other side of a narrow alleyway. He knew this Inn, "The Golden Sovereign." A reference to his favorite song. It had all its rooms on the second floor. Once atop the adjacent buildings roof. He started trying to look into the windows to see if he could see the silver haired girl but all the windows were shut.
He leaned over the alleyway and opened the shutters to peer into the rooms. The first room was empty. The next had an old man sleeping in bed. The third, a naked woman much like how he described the Tavern Wench in his songs,luckily she didn't notice him. The fourth room had the girl with the silver hair in it. She was fast asleep. He crept inside the room.

Her snoring was painfully pleasant to his ears. Nothing short of magic could explain this girls voice. Inside the room he searched about, he rummaged through her bags and found nothing but clothes until something metal fell out of a night shirt. It clanged loudly as it hit the floor and the girl stirred in her sleep
, he rolled under the bed and just then did he see two thin legs with small feet touch the floorboards. The girl walked over to her bags where all the clothes were now on the floor. He saw now what had dropped onto the floor. A bronze lamp. Like from the stories.

(7/12)

>>54885262

The girl picked up the lamp and examined it. Then picked up a shirt from off the ground and rubbed the lamp with it and after a moment a blue smoke came out of the snout and then a blue man appeared.
"You called?" The Genie asked in common.
The woman started speaking to him in the same language that she had sung her song in. The genie then replied in the same language but with none of the silver-like-effect of the girls voice. After a few moments the genie was gone. She picked up the clothes off the floor and packed them back into the bag and the lamp with them.
She climbed back into bed.

He waited until her breathing became heavy. Once he was sure she was sleeping he came out from under the bed and rummaged in the same bag for the lamp. He grabbed it and softly tip toed back to the window but as he got close to the window he tripped over a harp and slammed against the wooden floor. The silver haired girl woke up and started screaming -even that was like silver, music to his ears- He picked up the lamp he had dropped and darted out the window.

He ran back to the Whore's Hole. All the while checking behind him for the girl but the streets were empty. He entered through the backdoor leading into the kitchen when he found the tavern keeper.
"Where were you? I was worried something had happened to you when you didn't show up this evening."
She said pouting.
"Sorry, I met an old friend, things got carried away and I lost track of time." He lied.
"Oh, well please send word if you're running late, I'd hate it if anything happened to you, the boys too, you know how much we care for you and your performances." She said arms crossed over her sagging bosom, she was smiling now.
"Again, I'm really sorry shouldn't happen again, but I am really quite exhausted, the cooks are still working do you mind if I sleep in the storeroom for the night?" He asked.
"Sure, you can play for us tomorrow."
He went to the storeroom which was the furthest from the entrance.

(8/12)

>>54885402

He closed the door behind him and lit up a candle. The stories said you had to rub the lamp and then the genie will grant your wish. It was bronze and with a few dents in its metal. He started polishing it with his sleeve and after a few moments a blue smoke spiralled out of the snout and formed into a blue man with a turban.
"Hell-OH! You're not the beautiful young lady I was expecting" said the Genie.
"Yes, well she stepped out for a moment, but she said I was frre to make a wish." He lied.
"Did she now? Listen here buddy it doesn't matter if you stole it, I have to grant the wish eitherway so let's just be honest here." The Genie said sounding bored.
"Fine, yes I" borrowed" the lamp from her." He said.
"Now for my wish." He said.

He thought for a moment. The woman's voice was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard, what if she had wished for the most beautiful voice in the world? If he wished for the same thing would it counter her wish? Maybe if he wished for a voice more beautiful than hers? No. In the stories Genies were spiteful and if he wished for a voice more beautiful than hers then the genie could make her have the voice of a Troll. Then he remembered her voice, the feeling of silver whenever she spoke. He had an idea of what the girl had wished for, "A silver tongue." But he had to be better than her. What is better than silver? Well gold ofcourse but there is no such term as "a golden tongue" but there is the saying "That was gold." and with that he had it.

(9/12)

>>54885476

"Genie, I wish everything that I say is gold."

"Eh, sure thing bub?"

Everything flashed blue and then his vision faded back to the single candle lit in the dark room.
"It's done!" and with that, the genie turned back into blue smoke and slunk back into the lamp. He was so happy. He knew that the magic had worked, he could feel it. But what to test it on? A song ofcourse. His favorite. "The Golden King's Ransom." But upon trying to sing the first word he felt something in his mouth. He spat it out. A gold coin. He turned the saliva covered metal piece over in his fingers, examining it.
"How did that get there?" He thought to himself.

(10/12)

>>54885518

At that very moment. The door flung open. Two large men in armor stepped through followed by the silver haired girl.
"That him! That's the thief!" She shouted with her beautiful voice.
"Oh so you like stealing from beautiful girls eh? Said one of the men.
"I can-" he was interrupted by a flow of coins in his mouth, he nearly choked on one and coughed them out,coins bouncing and rolling everywhere on the wooden floor.
"Look! He's trying to hide stolen coins in his mouth!" shouted another man in armor.
He was busy coughing up more coins when one of the guards threw him to the ground and then grabbed his ankles and lifted him upside down.
"Spit them all out, thief!"
"I'm not-" He spat out more coins.
As the coins hit the floor, the men looked at one another and then one started punching him in the stomach while the other held his ankles.
He started screaming from the pain which only produced more coins.
The silver haired girl walked across the room and picked up the lamp.
"Is that what he stole from you, doesn't look like much?" The man holding his ankles asked the girl.
"Yes but it's a family heirloom and I'd be lost without it,thank you ever so much." She fluttered her eyelashes at the man.
She gave him a look filled with disgust and walked out of the room.
"You're coming with us thief until you can give us back all the gold coins you stole, yes, even those you swallowed. We're not stupid."

(11/12)

>>54885595

They cuffed him in iron and marched him out of the room through the tavern. All the regular patrons were still there. Sailor Saul and Jern the mercenary, neither of them looked up from their mugs. The tavern keeper was begging them to let him go.
"Please, I'm sure it's a misunderstanding, he's a good boy, he'd never steal from anybody." She was crying "Please!"
He felt nothing but shame and the taste of metal in his mouth.

They kept him in chains for a full month. The guards were baffled as to how he had no gold in his shit but still coughed up coins. Eventually he learnt to keep his mouth shut and they stopped checking his shit for gold and let him go. He was lucky, the King had been in such a good mood after the contest that he pardoned the bard in honour of the most beautiful song he had ever heard, sung by a maiden to match.

He left the city and traveled around after he was released. He could never face those in the Whore's Hole ever again, he had left his lute there. But he had coughed up enough gold to buy a new one. He could no longer sing or say more than one word without choking to death on coins. Eventually he spat out a fortune to buy a Manor to live in. He feigned being a mute and wrote everything needed saying. He filled the treasuries with coin and never let anybody manage his finances least they question where his infinite wealth came from. He was by far the richest man in the world. He had even found a wife who was deaf. He had 3 wonderful children and 1 brat but nothing not even his familys love or his entire riches could make up for the loss of his most precious treasure, his voice.

(12/12) whew! Again sorry for the long story. It was suppose to be something short just to bump the thread and then it took on a life of its own.

>>54884626
Thanks

Basically to start it off the player characters take the role of people who have used these odd stones that sprout from the ground, when used they enter into an grey void where they can travel to to and out of any other stone at whim, however once they’ve gone through no one recognizes them even their own family; the only people can actually see them as their true selves are other people who have used these stones.

The adventurers find themselves at a tavern drinking away their sorrows when one sees a posting for a job on the wall and it provides payment upfront amd when the job is done, a group of at least 9 is required.

Basically that’s how it starts off and the plot in the actual campaign is that there’s a fog out of season, moans on the water, and people going missing.

The fog is made by the big bad hiding in town as the local doctor/scientist, the moans are from the local butcher kidnapping non humans from other islands and towns and then murdering them out on the water and selling the meat in town, and people are going missing due to the cult who wants to overthrow the king because he’s not part of the royal blood line.

Some of the reveals I’ve set up is that the big bad is also a stone traveler but uses an amulet of their own design to maintain a constant disguise, the local priest is very xenaphobic and racist to all non humans but is actually just a fun toy from the big bad and is actually a brainwashed changling. Oh and the whole stone thing is actually the world breaking apart and people falling through the cracks, the reason people don’t recognize you is that you aren’t really there anymore, you’re just the momentum of the person if they didn’t touch the stone which is making the world more and more unstable. The big bad loves this because they can do more fucky magic the more broken the world becomes.


Any feedback?

>>54881340

>>54877561
>>54885680
No need to apologise for writing a long story.

As for the story - its a good story. Good concept especially, a good way of using that picture. It sort of feels like a traditional fairy tale, in that its a sort of neat moral tale: the bard who got the riches he wished for but could never sing again. In fact, it might have been even better with a fairy or something instead of a genie (fairies can grant wishes too)

The formatting kind of annoyed me though. Given how 4chan displays text I usually say that you should never press the return key only once - if you're going to press it, press it twice and leave an empty line. It's so much easier to read like that.

>>54887975
as with all original ideas, there's some stuff in there that's interesting and some that's just confusing. I think the idea of teleportation stones that exist because the world is breaking apart is an interesting one. The fact that no one recognises people who use them is a bit confusing and I don't find your explanation very convincing. I'd either get rid of the identity switching entirely or, if it's really crucial to your plot, find another mechanism for it and not tie it to the stones.

The rest of your plot feels less original - solid stuff, but nothing that your players won't have experienced before. I'm unsure whether to advise you to get a little more creative and risk confusing your players, or encourage you to stick with what you've got because it's good, reliable material and you know it'll probably work.

>>54890712
I thought genie because I needed something that could go incognito once the wish was made.A fairy in a jar would have been a little too inconspicuous but would have matched the female bard more. Ill keep a fairy in mind for future stories anon. Thank you for your feedback but as for the format tip I don't really understand can you give an example of what you mean?

File: IMG_7472.jpg (61KB, 468x386px) Image search: [Google]

61KB, 468x386px

>>54890712
So the fact that people can’t recognize them is fairly central, the idea that they can’t be recognized is that they’ve lost the part of people that other people can recognize as a person instead of just moving shapes, they’re just an imprint left on the earth. It also ties in with the gods and higher beings of the world, a tier of the pantheon is just wizards who achieved 4 dimensional manipulation and leave completely sentient 3D imprints of themselves when casting magic.

And yeah I know some of the plot twists are less original, first time DM here and I wanted to try my hand and home brew lore. Which twists would say aren’t worth it?

The best way I can explain the fragmenting system and how I’ll most likely explain that to the players is taking the concept of a laser going through a laser splitter. Half of it goes in one direction and in this case the other just disperses becoming too unfocused to hold together.

File: 1502748374338.jpg (24KB, 564x863px) Image search: [Google]

24KB, 564x863px

>>54891557
Ah anon I understand your point about recognisation. Like if they were pulled through the cracks of the universe and lost the part of them thats recognisable you could say that their soul is no longer synchronised with the natural order of the universe and that when people who knew them, see them they can no longer register them for their own soul(the people seeing them) does not register with their desynced souls for them when they knew them before and their souls were "whole". Kind of like a programming bug. That's what I'm understanding from what you're saying anyways. It's an interesting concept.

>>54890936
>as for the format tip I don't really understand can you give an example of what you mean?
>At that very moment. The door flung open. Two large men in armor stepped through followed by the silver haired girl.
>"That him! That's the thief!" She shouted with her beautiful voice.
>"Oh so you like stealing from beautiful girls eh? Said one of the men.
>"I can-" he was interrupted by a flow of coins in his mouth, he nearly choked on one and coughed them out,coins bouncing and rolling everywhere on the wooden floor.
>"Look! He's trying to hide stolen coins in his mouth!" shouted another man in armor.
>He was busy coughing up more coins when one of the guards threw him to the ground and then grabbed his ankles and lifted him upside down.

vs

>At that very moment. The door flung open. Two large men in armor stepped through followed by the silver haired girl.

>"That him! That's the thief!" She shouted with her beautiful voice.

>"Oh so you like stealing from beautiful girls eh? Said one of the men.

>"I can-" he was interrupted by a flow of coins in his mouth, he nearly choked on one and coughed them out,coins bouncing and rolling everywhere on the wooden floor.

>"Look! He's trying to hide stolen coins in his mouth!" shouted another man in armor.

>He was busy coughing up more coins when one of the guards threw him to the ground and then grabbed his ankles and lifted him upside down.


Doesn't just apply to dialogue of course. Any time you start a new line you should leave a full line space for ease of reading.

Also, regarding the fairy, it doesn't have to be a fairy necessarily. There are all sorts of things that could grant wishes from pet cats to inanimate objects. It just seemed that your story was more in the style of European folklore, and a genie was 1) out of place in the setting, and 2) a bit obvious.

It could even be a witch who shrank herself to sour the female bard's milk (because European witches do that for some reason) and got caught.

>>54891557
okay, but you're going to have to refine your explanation a bit. Coming up with new sci-fi/fantasy concepts is a bit like using Occam's razor: the less extraneous shit you add on the better.

here's a short lesson on the dangers of just adding some cool, vaguely science-y sounding bullshit every time you need an explanation for something.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4bBD5yyT-s0

To be clear, I'm not trying to trash your concept. This is the process you should go through before introducing any new idea into a game - because your players will test you and you need to make it both convincing and the mechanics of how it works airtight. Giving an explanation like 'the part of people that other people can recognize as a person instead of just moving shapes' just raises far more questions than it answers.

>the part of people that other people can recognize as a person instead of just moving shapes
that could be boiled down to 'soul'. I know its not quite the same thing, but it seems pretty close. Physical presence still there, fundamental part of the identity missing. Like vampires and mirrors - you can't see a vampire's reflection because it has no soul, and you can't see someone who touched the teleport stone full stop because they're not a real part of the universe any more.

And then you start asking why. Like: why can they imprint themselves back onto the universe at all, and not just get dropped out of existence when they touch the stone? Why do the stones look like stones rather than cracks in the universe? Why do they function as teleports, and not just put you back wherever you first touched the stone? Why can people still see someone who uses a stone but not recognise them - do humans in this setting not have facial recognition and go entirely off whatever metaphysical characteristic is removed by the stone? Is the 'imprint' a physical body - if so, why do people perceive it differently from the original - or a spiritual projection of some kind?

>>54892612

Why don't people who've teleported just go up to the friends and family and say 'hey, I know I look different now but its really me.' - and if they can't see you or understand this, what other restrictions does teleporting bring on interacting with the physical world? Why would anyone ever touch a teleport stone if everyone who's ever used one has (from the perspective of everyone else) vanished without a trace?

There are probably more annoying questions that could trip you up at some point.


I would simplify it like this: touching the stone removes you from the universe. You are gone, non-existent, but your mind is sucked through the crack into an Other place. From here you can mentally project yourself back into the real universe through any stone, and you will perceive this projection as your 'real' self because there is no true existence in the other realm. It seems to you like you've teleported, but really 'you' are in the Other place, and your projection is acting on the real world. Your projection is a composite of material of the Other place that you unwittingly force through the cracks every time you try to send your mind back into the real universe - this further destabilises the real universe. The projection is in the form of a human, but only because your mind is imprinted on it, and it is an imperfect imprint so you don't look like you. People who have 'teleported' can see each other because they're communicating directly telepathically in the Other place.

I'm not sure how much of an improvement my version is but it patches a few of the holes in yours. Then again, maybe I'm just the god-emperor of Overthinking Things and you should just go ahead with your game and have fun.

Oh, and
>wizards who achieved 4 dimensional manipulation
that's time travel. Don't introduce time travel, or even the mere possibility of time travel, unless you are absolutely sure you know what you're doing.

>>54892664
I hope I don’t sound unappreciative for the feedback, you’re helping me a lot, thank you.

To answer those questions it’s because family members don’t recognize them as actually people, it’s like if light started talking to you.

As for why does anyone do it, most don’t at all. The people that do know about the stones generally see them as cursed and evil.

Also the best way to simplify it is that by touching the stone the person who touched instantly dies and what comes out is an incomplete mystical clone.


As for the wizards it’s not time travel it’s 4D in the sense of a 4th directional dimension. This concept is shown well with videos like this https://youtu.be/9yW--eQaA2I

First time here, hope I'm better than abysmal.

>>54827685
Lenaria gazed down at the human in front of her. Slicked hair, golden clothes, shiny accessories... usually that type sent knights to kill her - well, die trying. They didn't come themselves, and certainly never without some flashy swords. A smile graced her silvery muzzle as she momentarily considered snapping him up in one bite, pulling his valuables from him with her tongue, and adding a bit more wealth to her hoard and meat to her bones. But no, unique things like this were to be savored.

"So, curious human, for what are you here?" she asked.

The human responded, "I'm here to request a trade. You have wealth I desire." He spoke in a tone like he thought he owned her and her hoard, and Lenaria forced herself to not pull her head back in disgust. It was likely inexperience, she told herself; he was merely used to dealing with humans where that may actually be the case.

Still, she raised her eye-ridges. "I have much I know you want. What has a mere human to offer me?"

He smirked, serving only to irritate her further. "Well, you have a tribe of kobolds, loyal to you," he began, "and I have a veritable army. The two have met." The gold-clad man puffed his chest out, acting as though he'd put the dragon in check, and continued, "so, I will offer the tribe's lives, every last one of them. In exchange, gold. Make me an offer, dragon."

Lenaria scowled. This stranger was either trying to threaten or lie to her, neither of which she much cared for. A quiet fell between them, disrupted only by her tail clinking through a pile of jewels and gold. Trying to con a dragon, especially her, was often a death sentence, but it did sometimes take her a while to choose her weapon.

1/3

>>54895470
"Very well," Lenaria conceded, breaking the silence, "I will grant you as much gold as you will want, and likely more. In return, you and your men will kill or harm not even one of my kobolds." Then, it was her turn to grin, significantly more sharp-toothed. "Additionally, you will have to remain still while I grant you this boon," she lied, "it requires a form of physical contact of my choosing."

"Pleasure doing business with you, dragon," the man replied, earning a more genuinely amused smile from the silver dragoness. Hook, line, sinker.

As she directed, the gold-clad man stepped forward, remaining as still as he could while Lenaria extended her long, serpentine neck towards him, placing her head in front of him. To her concealed pleasure, forcing him to realize just how much bigger than him she was caused the human to tremble before her. A long, forked tongue snaked out between her lips, and the dragon slowly licked him, soaking some of his expensive, flashy clothes, before returning to her original position. She had placed the magic on him well before she'd done that, of course, but as far as curiosity was concerned, dragons were not cats. He tasted like apples.

"Now then," Lenaria instructed him, "to use my gift, simply say aloud, 'Praise be to Lenaria of the Shining Jewel,' then cough into your hands." The man, still covered in drool, hesitated at first, but soon complied. When he pulled his hands away from his face, there was a small pile of shiny, golden marbles, having fallen from his mouth.

>>54895490
With the same, irritating smirk, the man swept into a deep bow, saying in an exaggerated tone, "a pleasure doing 'business' with you, dragon." He swiftly turned and strode away, turning a corner out of sight.

After waiting a second, Lenaria called for one of her kobolds. Senkin, who had been polishing a silver longsword, dutifully approached his master. "That human who just left," the dragoness commanded, "kill him. Retreat if injured." Wordlessly, the kobold nodded and scampered in the man's direction, drawing a dirk as he leapt over an overflowing chest.

Lenaria watched him go, then turned to leave her treasure chamber, intent on seeing if the rest of her kobolds were still alright. If the human thought he had put her in check, she had clearly done one better. A few minutes later, Senkin returned to her, limping and with a nasty gash in his tail. The dragon winced in sympathy, but was glad he had suffered far less than the human would.

He'd discover it when he returned to whatever mansion or castle he had. He'd be eager to show off his new trick, "stolen" from a gullible dragon. He might even invite people to impress to watch. And then, saying Lenaria's name would trigger a coughing fit. One without end.

>>54895038
>it’s because family members don’t recognize them as actually people, it’s like if light started talking to you.
okay, that makes marginally more sense. The way you put it before it sounded like they were people, just people the family doesn't recognise. Although it still begs the question, if they can't be perceived visually would their speech be heard and understood?

Either way, we're sort of edging towards that whole vampire-mirror concept. In fact, that just reinforced by the way you explain it here
>the person who touched instantly dies

I think you really need to pin down what /exactly/ it is that a person loses when they touch the stone, and why they become unrecognisable. Otherwise it just sounds like your working with undead that you've found a few new terms for. I'm specifically getting hung up on 'the part of people that other people can recognize as a person instead of just moving shapes'. It just sounds to vague, and not at all related to how humans actually process visual information. Turning 'just moving shapes' into an image with coherent objects like 'person' in it is exactly what the visual cortex human brain is there for.

>As for the wizards it’s not time travel it’s 4D in the sense of a 4th directional dimension.
Yeah, I know what a tesseract is and all that shit. The things that annoy me about the way people treat multi-dimensional physics is another conversation entirely, so to be brief: personally I would say that we already have four dimensions and if you want to add an extra spacial one you should be talking about 5D physics. Although that could be alternate timelines so maybe 4D space would be a better term.

>I hope I don’t sound unappreciative for the feedback
hey, I dish it out I should be able to take it. I never understood people who think authors are rude for giving feedback on their feedback - it's a conversation, not a lecture (although obviously there are ways to do it right and ways to be a dick about it)

File: IMG_7473.gif (2MB, 360x202px) Image search: [Google]

2MB, 360x202px

>>54895624
By instantly dies I mean that the person who touched it is removed from the universe and a clone is put in their place on the other end missing certain characteristics of our reality and is perceived kind of like tesseracts and all that, the part of our perception that can put shapes and motion together would do its best to compnetsate but they end up looking like people you’re barely noticing. Same with how they sound, their voice isn’t exactly the same and sounds like a different language almost.

It’s a lot of theoretical puesudo science bullshit but I wanted to come up with something more interesting that mechanically altered the game, allowed for interesting interactions, and gave a reason for not all players making it to a session. I actually just started the campaign and I’ve already introduced a character that is also an imprint and the party hasn’t noticed that they recognize them yet, which was kind of the plan to create situation where the norm is weird making it hard to tell what’s happening until the players have been playin long enough to get used to it. Which means I’m probably thinking about this too much and none of my players will notice or care.

>>54896425
>the part of our perception that can put shapes and motion together would do its best to compnetsate but they end up looking like people you’re barely noticing
okay, that makes sense. The 'clone' has a sort of Lovecraftian geometry going on, and its the brain of the person perceiving it that makes it look like an actual person.

>none of my players will notice or care.
tfw I know that feel

although it's still better than the alternative, which is players paying attention enough to notice all the holes in your idea. Maybe one of these days I'll actually meet one.

File: sides.png (10KB, 350x266px) Image search: [Google]

10KB, 350x266px

Let me get a quick survey of you illuminated types. Do you prefer short stories over full-length books, or vice versa? Trying to decide which way to take my writing.

>>54898623
Personally, I was always fond of short stories more than full-lenght books. I think that actually, a good short story takes more mastery than a novel. I guess I'm influenced by Borges, who used to make fun of Marquez for his indulgence of thousands of pages for subject matter that could be efficiently painted up on twelve pages.
Most of my favorite authors (Kafka, Dostojevsky, Abe etc...) generally tend to have their absolute best works among their shortest.

>>54898623
I read a lot more novels than short stories. Short stories are good and all, but to develop a narrative properly you really need a novel.

File: 1502266321297.jpg (665KB, 2900x2900px) Image search: [Google]

665KB, 2900x2900px

>>54852813

"HAR-ZE-HAR-HAR!" Schmu sarcastically quipped. "Anyvay, here'z a photo vith ze tvinz. Via Celestine's zocial media."

Shmul got out his smart phone and opened up to show his friends the so called twins that would motivate him to come along with Miss Celestine Moss' invitation to dinner. And Shmul gave his other three friends a view to show that indeed, the twins he's talking about are not only alike but both are good looking.

"¡Vaya, carajo! Those are some damn fine babes! And that's one thing about Miss Celestine Powers. She always seems to be around and even surrounded by some busty babes. Even older, middle-aged women that're around her and or work with her are almost always good-tier MILFs."

"And any senior woman who's associated with Celestine is a GILF, or 'GMILF?' Grandma-I'd-Like-to'Fuck? Hehehe" Philip interjected jokingly also earning chuckles from his office pals.

"Oh don't think about azking for additional invitez if any of you think Celestine vould give any." Said Shmul in an as-a-matter-of-factly manner.

"Well damn, I would've loved to get either of those brunette's numbers." Said Manny as he takes a last swig of his bottle, finishing his drink.

"Same here and you all know that I'm a woman who's down with swinging both ways and prefering either my boys or girls good looking and fair skinned."

Said Debra as she also finished her beer as for the next thirty minutes or so continued with various small talk about sharing thoughts of what to probably do in the weekend or contemplating about being invited at dinner with Celestine and her pretty lady-friends.

File: 1502514463371.jpg (71KB, 1372x750px) Image search: [Google]

71KB, 1372x750px

Are we getting a new thread on Friday? If so, should we let this one page 10?

>>54905873
Yeah, I'm planning on starting a new one Friday evening. No need to let go of this one until Friday morning though.

>>54881340
An eternity passed. The coldly beautiful elf wearing the crown whispered something in her fascimile's ear before retiring to an imperious pose.
The other elven maiden smiled at him. A radiant sight. She spoke, and her sound was melodious as a songbird's. "Lady Morvhen Eaodoian bids Bohemond Carrard, knight of bretonnia, a welcome to Coeth Mara."

"Does Lady Morvhen not speak breton?" The denizens of athel loren were isolationist, and it would be understandable if they didn't deign to learn other tongues.

"It is beneath a highborn lady to speak to a human outlander. She speaks through me." The words were spoken perfectly, without any trace of an accent, but Bohemond could feel the distaste lingering in the air. However fluently the speaker might converse in breton, it was beneath her.

"And who might you be, who speaks for your lady and looks so much like her?"
A small pause. Bohemond wondered if he had insulted someone unknowingly.

"I am her daughter, Lidrana Eaodain, and her herald." Her mother whispered something in her ear.

"Lady Morvhen bids you welcome to stay in Coeth Mara for a while. The Lady Ariel has sent for you, and charged us with your stay."

>>54886099
Holy crap, Lewdanon!
Hmm, judging by the filename (which is neither humorous nor a pun), I'm guessing this is a repost?

>>54898623
Anyone else?

>>54913763
personally prefer big books because I enjoy worldbuilding.

>>54898623

I prefer books over short stories but I love them both. A short story is like a one night stand, beautiful and serves it purpose without a sense of loss. Books and especially book series are like being in a loving relationship with somebody who is dying. It's wonderful but eventually it's going to end and leave you with a sense of loss.

>>54898623

Also
If you're trying to decide which to focus on exclusively then it doesn't really matter, what's the point of only asking for our opinions? Have you written a short story or a book? Which did you prefer? Do you like long plots or short? What about pacing? If you trying to make a decision based on popularity then I'd say more people read amateur short stories than they do books since its quick and easy

>>54907598
>54907598

So, we are getting a new bread tomorrow right?