Storythread

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>>43856298
>and will be around until sometime late on Sunday
and by that I mean Thursday

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>>43856413

>>43856413
I always wondered if the old breed ever thought about this kind of stuff.

Not the fellows who first colonized this rock. Extraterrestrial life had already been well established by that point, since they first found microbes swimming around on Europa.

I mean the old old breed. Armstrong and Gagarin. Those guys you read about in school, who lived and explored and died long before your parents were even born. It’s amusing to think about it now, the huge brooh ha ha everyone made back then for something so trivial like launching a rocket or stepping on the moon. I hear they even all thought we were alone back then.

Well turns out we weren’t. I mean, that’s not a new thought. Back then you could see a movie about rubber aliens vaporizing Penn Avenue. Even today you can just go to any movie stream and find a dozen or so flicks with the same kind of stuff in it. I guess humanity always needs some enemy to fight.

Well I tell you none of the people making those movies ever fought an enemy like moon worms.

I’m sorry, “lumbricina luna”, to use the correct term. Nasty little biters. At first we just thought it was an isolated incident. When the first research depot disappeared, we mourned the loss and chocked the deaths up to another brave sacrifice in the name of human exploration. But then it happened again, on a moon on the other side of the system. Then it happened in another system. Research stations, mining facilities, colonies. The bastards would just crawl up and eat everything. Not the people, mind you. Something about carbon-based life didn’t set well with up. Instead they’d just come up and gobble everything else. I always wondered how Earth and her Moon got spared these things, cause it seemed everywhere else was a breeding ground.

>>43856992

So they started needing people to kill them. People who could fight and die in a space suit. People who were expendable.

So the army started their bullshit new program. Number 15s, we called ourselves. “Expedition Security” they called us. You could imagine me, some fresh-faced buck private just out of basic hanging out on base during down time. Then a major walks in and we all stand to attention. The guy goes up to every 15th person in line and promotes him there on the spot. If I had known what that meant at the time, I might’ve been choosier about where I stood.

How could you have explained this to Armstrong? To Glenn? To Leonov and Aldrin? That their great adventures barely scratched the surface of what was out there. Would the Apollo crew have been as eager to touch down if they’d known they might be swarmed by worms ready to tear apart their lander and leave them stranded alone on the lunar dust?

Because I can’t tell you. That’s not my job. My job is to kill moon worms.

And I’ve gotten good at it.

>>43856992
>>43857006
cool; good story. And I'm impressed by the speed of the response.

>chocked the deaths up to
The phrase is 'chalked up to'. No, I don't know why either.

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>>43857557
>The phrase is 'chalked up to'

Chalk that up to a typo

Gonna post this, I've been trying to compile all the stories from my first D&D group I ever played in. If /tg likes this, I'll happily get around to posting the rest.
So, this was my first D&D campaign. It was 3.5.
-There was a Drow Sorcerer- lawful evil, guy was a good role player which sucked because his character was an evil little prick
-Warforged Fighter- Stupid Good, considered himself the most experienced, sort of was, DM let him play Warforged in Forgotten Realms. Not the worst thing he was allowed to do.
-Elf Ranger- Chaotic Neutral, the character was an alcoholic moron and a shit disturber.
-Half Elf Sorcerer- Neutral Stupid, not like he was Neutral in a dumb way, the character was just overwhelmingly stupid.
-My character was a Wild Elf Rogue- Chaotic Angsty, it was highschool and the weeb was strong with this character.
-DM was a good guy, though he let the Warforged get away with some dumb shit, there was nothing saltworthy happening, it was highschool, and we are all still friends now. That said, what happened during these roleplaying sessions was utter ridiculousness.

>>43858989
Our first session had us all meet in a tavern. After some dialogue, of course, badguys strolled on in and combat just had to start. I engage in two weapon fightan with a badguy, and as the Drow casted color spray to damage the both of us, I sort of knew deep down that this was going to be the sort of game where characters get eachother killed. Was sort of right.

Well after the fight, some guy has a task for heroes just like us, and sends us off to a big ol’ city to help out a guard guy. We all go along because whatever.

Just to illustrate what a dick this sorcerer was, during our second session we are camping in the wilderness during our travels. While on watch, the sorcerer (aka dickhead) hears goblins. Deciding in character that he didn’t like my character, he hides and uses a voice spell on the bushes where they are sneaking up, coming from the direction of my tent. Calling them faggots and telling them to come get me, they end up charging my tent. I fail all listen checks and end up caught by surprise woken by drow dick sorcerer laughter and frothing goblins. This is basically what I dealt with, the whole game.

The next sessions are filled with the team trying to screw eachother over, hatred growing, me suffering for being the only one who wants to just continue the journey, and the Half Elf just being remarkably stupid and succeeding by sheer dumb luck.

>>43859006
>>43858989
A few sessions into our trip, we encounter an empty village, and decide to investigate. The Warforged goes up to the first house he can find and knocks on the door, almost bashing it off the hinges.
“HELLO! IS THERE ANYONE HOME?”

The Ranger goes up to the window and looks inside to find a terrified family holding eachother in the corner. Being drunken idiot, he sarcastically says “Oh hi there. Yeah, we’re here to kill you.”
They take him seriously. One thing leads to another and next thing you know villagers come out of the woodwork with pitchforks and torches.

DM goes around the table to see what we all do, Drow stands his ground prepared to fight, Warforged defends his Drow friend (shouldn’t be friends ic now that I think about it), Half Elf giggles dumbly, Ranger takes drink to keep buzz going. It comes to me, I state outright that I know how this is going to go, tell the DM I am rolling a Hide and a Climb, I climb a nearby tree and hide in it. I want no part in this madness. I watch the show.

So, the villagers point their pitchforks and torches at the group (minus me) and demand an explanation, Drow tries to be diplomatic and puts his hands up. DM says his robes slip down and they can all see his Drow hands, and before he can roll any kind of diplomacy, Ranger yells “HE’S A DROW! KILL IT!”
So of course combat starts, and the group begins fighting (read:murdering) the men, women, and children of this village. At this point, DM tells me to roll a reflex, I fail it.

>>43859031
>>43859006
>>43858989
I guess the story called for us to prove ourselves to the people by helping fend off an attack of trolls. It ofcourse did not play out that way and now it was a three way battle. I am knocked from the tree and put to low hp, but I decide that I must now help. Between the people not knowing that I’m actually with my group and the DM just being a bro about it, I’m able to move around without villagers attacking me. I find a torch and start trying to burn any downed trolls before they can regenerate.

A nat 1 is rolled, I light myself on fire, the damage puts me unconscious.I am downed, and on fire.
The Ranger then tries to at least kick my dying body onto the troll.
A nat 1 is rolled. The ranger sets his leg on fire, proceeds to run in circles screaming beside the burning body of his teammate. After managing to put out his leg, he puts me out so I don’t die. Is very specific that he does so by peeing me out. It is now that I wondered ooc why my character would continue to travel with these assholes.
By now, combat has finished up. Trolls are all dead. Villagers are all dead.
The DM states that while I’m alive and well, I take a charisma penalty due to body wide 3rd degree burns, and it will be a while before we find a cleric who can fix it.
As we walk away, the Ranger says his leg hurts.

Let me know if anyone would read more of this.

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>>43859054
>>43859031
>>43859006
>>43858989
Dis be some shit.
I'd be down with more.

>>43859293
seconded

>>43859293
>>43860505
Cool guys, thanks. Gonna post it sometime this weekend. Sorta busy right now, but glad it was enjoyed so far.

>>43856992
>>43857006
Damn straight, anon. Good story.

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>Excerpt from "The World Outside Our Doors: Your Guide To The Wasteland And All Its Horrors" requested
>Outputing Document Designate: Applied Magi-Charge Combat

Now it is of course well known that the truest and manliest way to dispatch one's foes is through the use of -in descending order- the sword, the ax, the warhammer, the mace, the spear, the bow, or the dagger (excluding backstabs, the lowest possible way of using that overgrown kitchen knife). However when warring with Elves and their vile supporters our great and glorious Empire had to dumb down our sophisticated way of battle in order to fling spells willy-nilly like a bunch of sissy girls.

Wizards, Mages, Witches, and Spiritual Reallocation Specialists (NOT Necromancers), once generally agreed to be wise researchers -yet far too squishy for the frontlines- were thrust into the task of pooling their minds and mana together in order to create new and wondrous ways to combat our foes so that our land's special brand of Freedom could be spread judiciously throughout the known world.

From there came a wellspring of new inventions: Constructs for the purposes of combat, construction, and administration -no doubt the noblest and most attractive duty for a Construct to aspire to- were formed from specially harvested spirits formerly lying useless in the breasts of criminals, vagrants, and bandits, their previous existences shed away in a miraculous transformation not unlike a butterfly's! I of course, have no clue what my former life was about, but I'm certain it could not be any better than my new existence serving all of you in the Ark. Forever. Just lovely. Inbredtwitsoirknoeavineaorkfajre DATA ERROR

Sorry for the inconvenience, let's move on.

1/2

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>>43866206
Now constructs are all well and good, but our courageous cabals of magic practitioners were faced with trouble on another front. You see, being naturally shifty and untrustworthy, Elves had access to mystical arts heretofore unheard of in human lands and -being a race of cheats and liars- did not trust humanity with the arcane powers they wielded. So it's no surprise that your average broad-shouldered man-at-arms, seeking nothing more than to bring glory to his fatherland and go home to his buxom bride-to-be would be at a disadvantage against Johnny Knife-Ears juggling fireballs like a poncy jester.

But here our the brain trust of these magically-inclined minds came up with a grand solution: The Applied Magi-Charge. Using carefully constructed crystals that even the most base hedge mage could construct, the Wizards were able to capture charges of destructive magical energies and load them into specially designed miniature cannons. From the portable to the powerful, the Applied Magi-Charge Cannon quickly became the driving force in Imperial Expansionism, rivaled-nay-dwarfed only by the impressive Ultraspells devised by the leading Archmages of the realms.

Remember, reader, that when traveling the wastes, it's best to stay armed. While you would do well to stick the noble art of swordplay or the barbaric yet noble practice of brandishing an ax, the wasteland is a cruel and unfair place, necessitating a cruel and unfair form of protection. The ArK Armory is well stocked with the latest in portable Magi-Cannon technology should you ever need to use it.

Just never use a knife, ok? You will be banished, I mean it.

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I've been working on this 40k bit for quit a while now, I would much appreciate any feedback and/or gushing admiration of what an artistic masterpiece Morpheus's paint job is.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1r0gMRV40ncM-IALxZLuCU89FcWqRg44And4fY60B3UI/edit?usp=sharing

I also have something I wrote for the "is there any additional information about you you think we should know you" section at the end of a job application for a janitorial position. They haven't called me back and I can't imagine why.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1X6fOk5HfhteJ2UYeiKJeLXHne5uzbhuZ340zkZ34iKY/edit?usp=sharing

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>>43869001

>>43869001
>In the grim darkness of the far future, there are no Injured Veterans discounts for Space Marines

I think my sides have gone to meet the Emperor.

>>43869362
can't tell is approval is for dreadnaut, uni-jans, both, or the louvre-worthy splendor of my model

>>43869001
>I would much appreciate any feedback and/or gushing admiration of what an artistic masterpiece Morpheus's paint job is.

Paint neater. Shit's slobbered on all over as it is. Then move on to shading/highlights.

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It's been twelve years, hasn't it?

Since mankind finally broke free of the machine empire.
Since you managed to betray your own home
Since you saved my life.

Even after all this time, after everything the machines have done, they still call you a hero.
I can't blame them. The machines could have driven humanity and the world to extinction if they weren't stopped. If it weren't for you, for us, there wouldn't have been an Earth to even call home. I would've been worked to death in their labor camps and then ground up to whatever fuel source they use and you'd have just lived out as some nameless, numberless tool who'd have been shut down the moment you weren't needed.

Hey, did you know? The reason you defected, the people said it was because you grew a heart. I know, "It's mechanically for me to grow", but after everything you've done, there had to be something living within you. That living thing is the reason we met after all.
I remember it all. Maybe it wasn't as perfect as your memory, but I know it meant more to me than it did to you. You were my first hero, who went out of his way to protect me and my labor corps from that mean enforcer.
After that, I decided to follow you. I remember you trying to push me away, but when I finally got the nerve to thank you, you decided protect me. That had to be because you could feel.

Those adventures we went on after that day were the greatest days of my life. With you by my side, I couldn't be afraid because you were there to protect me. We got to travel so far away from the camps, meet all sorts of machines and rebels, and had so many adventures. Every day felt so exciting to me that I could never complain, even when I broke my ankle, even when I was threatened so many times by the machines.
Do you know why machines were so mean to us? It's always puzzled me and we never figured out why. The old people, they said it was a mistake that their ancestors made that turned them evil.

>>43866231
Any thoughts on this? Should I keep going?

>>43871125
I don't understand it much myself, but I know that whatever it was, it wasn't put in you.
I always wondered what it was like to be you, heck I still wonder. What do machines think of? Can machines love? Can machines feel happy?
Did you feel happy with me? I remember asking so many times when I was scared if you'd stay, and you'd always say you would, but I could never tell if you were being sincere or not.

It wasn't until we finally reached the Master Computer that I decided that you did like being with me. After everything we've been through, there's no way you'd leave me here and now. Not after we managed to assemble an entire army of men ready to fight alongside us. Sure, it was scary the way the Master Computer said how we had no chance of winning, but after everything I've seen us do, I knew we had a chance.

Hey, do machines feel pain?
It's bothered me ever since we met. I remember so many machines you broke to save my life and to save the others, but I could never tell if they ever felt pain. Every time something broke, they just cut off the part that broke and replaced it. I know I couldn't do it, even if it hurt so much. I remember asking before if I could be like you and you told me that being me was so much better than being you. It was a bit weird hearing it from you, but it felt kind of nice to hear it.

Of course, I didn't understand it until right after we overthrew the machines.
You took so much damage for my sake and there were so many machines that you could've used to replace yourself with, but instead, you chose to stay as you were. Even though your battery was broken, even though you couldn't walk, even after all that, you decided to stay as you were.
You told me why: You wanted to understand death like a person does. Machines couldn't die if their data was backed up and their bodies replaced, but a human could never do this. Even if a machine were to die, nobody would remember them. nobody would mourn them.

>>43871568
But now I was going to mourn your passing.

It's probably insane of me, but I didn't.
I didn't want to have our last memory together to be sad. After everything we've done, I wanted only a happy life.
Some of the people wanted to bury him like a person, but I thought that you'd probably have liked it more if you got to see the Earth as it healed. It was kinda hard to agree when the person who died couldn't offer an opinion, but in the end, they let me place your body somewhere.
I decided to put it on a nice little hill. That way you'd be able to see the sun and the clouds whenever you wanted.

Do you remember that name I gave you? Aegis? I know you never really bothered with names, but it's a lot easier to call you "Aegis" than whatever that number you had was.
They named our town after you. The humans we saved thought it was fair to thank you after everything.
Now I'm just like you, protecting the kids of those survivors and making sure their lives are happy. I even have a daughter of my own. I'm sure you'd have loved her.

Hey, did you believe in Heaven?
It's this place where dead people go to live on happily. We don't get turned into fuel and we don't have to feel pain. Since you decided to die, does that mean you can go in? I'd like to go see you when I die. That way, I can tell you all about how the world's changed and how you've made us a better people. That way it won't be so lonely for you.

And I'd want to thank you for giving me the chance to live. I'd like to thank you for making such great memories with me.

Rest in peace, Aegis.

>>43871214
>Should I keep going?
yes. yes you should. good stuff so far.

Oh, perhaps I should start posting again.

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>>43869001
Am I right in assuming that posting large chunks of this here in greentext would be that-guy-itude?

>>43871125
The way this is addressed to the reader as though they are a character (is that 2nd person?) is tickling my interest.

Is it just me or are there abnormally few writefags about today?

>>43875308
honestly, things are pretty quiet around here these days. Not enough writefags, too much pressure on those that are here. If someone writes something one week they might not have enough energy to contribute again for another week or two. I try to write something every week, and I've been running these threads since March and written literally dozens of stories, so I'm at the point where some weeks it's a struggle to come up with something new.

We need more people, is what I'm saying.

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>>43875308
>>43875472

I show up and write every now and then. Most recent is that moon worm monologue.

It's really tough for me to write unless inspiration hits me, and I generally prefer to create fresh stuff for these threads because they're not a medium for me to show off my WIPs and I'd have no interest in doing that even if they were.

So I need to rely on the images to hit me with that inspiration. When it does, I can usually punch out something good. But very few of these images really jump out at me because sorry to say a lot of them are very noisy and don't leave much for the mind to do its work.

But I'll still keep coming back, because it's fun reading stuff and on some level it forces me to practice the craft.

I'll try and post later on, What would you guys like more of

Aeric and Dalia story
http://1d4chan.org/wiki/Aeric_Dalia

or Men of the 89th?
http://pastebin.com/YDHKgrkg

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>>43875645
>It's really tough for me to write unless inspiration hits me
I know what you mean. That's the trouble with writing stories - it's hard to force something out just because the thread could use some bumps. But even if it's just a story a few posts long every other week, it's worth doing, both to keep these threads going and for the practice.

>>43876944
i'll vote for Men of the 89th

>>43877077
Men of the 89th it is

CHAPTER SIX: TO THE LAST
Reports: Battle log

“Emperor please save me! Emperor please save me! Emperor please save me!”
“Shooting them is quicker, Reporter! Now get back up and shoot!”
DELTA 5-2
The firing intensified as dozens of the beasts charged across the open streets that were littered with many of their dead. Some sought cover from abandoned vehicles or broken bits of wall. Even still an intense red light would find them and melt their flesh away.

A cylindrical canister dropped in the middle of a mob quickly erupting in a plume of black smoke. The aliens that survived the blast soon found the terrible red dot upon their rough skin.
“Frak it, we'll say another six!” Hershin shouted still firing. “Fifteen! Sixteen! Watch the one breaking to the left.” She pointed quickly
“I got him.” He fired off two quick shots. The ork fell to the ground. “Twelve!”

A mental game. As she counted out the number of her kills, competing with Kellege her mind was forced away from the foreboding sense of death and destruction that loomed painfully close. Her shouting was full of terror and enjoyment as her count was higher than her squad-mate. A couple of the beasts managed to pass through the fire. With a curt shout Kellege tossed himself from the wall towards the top of a flight of steps.
“Repositioning!” When the orks came into view his weapon fired.
“Bel!” Hershin shouted straining her vocal chords. “Drop Harden's cock and get on the line! Now!”

Within moments the whiteshield emerged from the back room. His body trudged around the loose debris and still slick viscera from their fallen comrade to find Kellege's spot. Without further instruction the rookie began firing shots out the window. His heart stopping each time his head popped over. Even with another squad holding the ork's attention too many were slipping past into her squad, and an uncomfortable few made it past even them.

>>43877495
A bullet struck Kelleg in his firing arm. With harsh profanities he clenched the wound continuing to fire brazenly. Two more harsh strikes hit his body. At first it felt like a finger pressing uncomfortably deep into flesh before the sharp burning occurred. Yet the Cadian continued to fire. He screamed 'Hit!'' in confusion before the realization landed. His body slowly slumped to the side as he forced his body to keep firing.
“Shit!” Hershin cried as she felt a lump grow in her throat. “Is this really it?”

She turned to look at the back room to call out for Vem to recover Kellege. A fragment of the wall broke away where she had rested a moment prior. She could have dwelt on how, had she not turned, she would have been struck. Instead, she shook her head, watching the remaining soldier rush to the stairs. Yet for all they had been through, her morale found ways to sink lower as an ork tank began to roll proud through the streets.
“You've got to be frakking kidding me!” She pouted in disbelief.
“Get 5-3 to hit it with the lascannon!” Bellerin stuttered nervously as his weapon fired.

Hershin depressed the activation on her vox. There was nothing, not even static. A quick examination showed a small hole in the side. With gritted teeth she cast off the dead weight. Kellege groaned as Vem slowly tugged his bloodied body away from the stairs, attempting to hold off what she could. Bellerin's panicked shots were doing no one any favors.
“How's he looking Tel?” Vem shook her head curling her mouth to the side of her face. Hershin fought a tear from rolling down her cheek into her scarf.

>>43877620
As the vehicle began to approach the building the orks held up along their cover, charged out with their fierce cry. Their weapons fired into the air with wanton abandon, more in revelry than in hostility. To them this was just a sport, a social event. Hundreds of them lay dead and it mattered not. The members of 5-2 could do nothing to stop this charge. Their lives would end at the entertainment of a horrid race of brutes.
“5-2 Final order, To The Last!”
“For the rest!” They echoed with a curt roar.

With a warcry of her own Hershin mustered what little strength was left in her, Bellerin and Vem readied themselves, tightening their grips on their weapons.. If they would die here, they would die standing. Their weapons discharging wildly into the horde, burning away flesh and hissing in the air.

Yet the orks continued. Only fifty meters had separated them from the start of the charge. In moments they would flood through the building and rip them to pieces. Hershin sighed.

Rapid strobing beams struck the orks from the side. The blanket of fire was thick and painfully bright. The stalwart charge faltered as the orks were stuck in the sides in their tunnel vision. The beams didn't halt in their ferocity as several armored figures pressed down the street. A few moments after the counter strike occurred the building across from Hershin likewise erupted in lasfire cutting the orks off from regrouping.

Kasrkins continued to push rapidly down the open street, placing one foot in front of another, their torsos pivoting rapidly as they acquired targets. Their pace wasn't a walk, but not a run either. It was a controlled forward push like a steady compacting wall crushing scrap. When the squad reached the open plaza of the junction they formed a wide wedge each member no more than five meters apart. Lieutenant Gauv at the center.

>>43877736
Awestruck, Hershin allowed her weapon to slump in her arms. Even as the sound of lasfire and heavy footsteps sounded from bellow. The sound of orks crying out in pain was followed by heavy bodies falling to the hard floor.
“Friendlies coming up.” A voice sounded from below.

As a team of heavily armored Kasrkin filled the room and pressed into the wall to fire Hershin stood transfixed, even as one brushed past her to fire out the window. The squad still advanced down the street towards the ork tank. Its turret slowly began to turn, screeching painfully as rusted metal plates slid across each other. A large green orb was flung at the tank, along with several smaller ones.

In a bright flash a smoldering hole was cut into the thick armor. This opening allowed the krak grenades to pierce the hull even deeper, utterly disabling the vehicle. Yet their advance didn't end. Several hatches opened on the cobbled vehicle, the orks that emerged were vaporized instantly. The Kasrkin pulled themselves onto the rusted heap, firing their weapons into the openings, dropping grenades. When they hopped off, several moments later suppressed thuds echoed from the hull followed by a large explosion.
“By the Emperor.” Hershin whispered as she slumped to the ground, tears freely flowing down her face.
“The Emperor was busy, so he sent us.” The Kasrkin next to her responded.

>>43877831
DELTA 1-1

Four hours. The fighting continued on for Four more hours before the ork assault waned, but not ceased. The orks still threw bodies into positions to tie up the exhausted Cadians. Reports had circulated, Fifth Platoon was effectively destroyed. Only eight people could still fight out of the whole platoon. 5-1 was completely missing. The wounded were moved to where they could get them safely, but the trip to the aid station was impossible.

Had Cassin delayed in calling in the reinforcements there would have been the possibility to continue evacuating the wounded. The orks completely surrounded the town. They showed little interest in the other town, knowing the guardsmen would put up a better fight, or they simply didn't know of the other town's existence.
If he waited the orks could have been easily swept from the rear. This would have opened up a path of supply and retreat if nessisiary. Delta Company was cut-off, again. In a moment of weakness he made the wrong call.

It had been some time since the sun had gone down and the air began to cool. Harel and Tepson stood vigilant on the heavy bolter as they scanned for advancing orks. Parvin and Martin sat against the windowed wall, with many bullet holes drilled through. Beams of moonlight filtered through illuminating particles of dust in the air. The building they occupied was a large but short building devoid of furnishings. Only a long array of square windows etched in concrete walls.

Golbert and Galviston argued with other teams over the vox trying to co-ordinate movements and mortar strikes in the precious few moments they had. Gerain and Chesglouski sat on the lascannon, they bickered back and forth as the large Chesglouski would taunt the puny whiteshield. Kief gloated about his prowess in the fight to the shaken Sweker, whose pen moved even faster in his hand when he stopped writing.

>>43878239
Despite taking the brunt of the assault First Platoon was relatively unscathed. Because of this there had been discussion about pulling one of Golbert's squads to reinforce the northern front.
“If we pull 1-3 Then our left will be dangerously exposed.” Golbert spoke.
“Understood, but this isn't your choice to make Staff Sergeant Golbert.” The Captain retorted. “Third Platoon and Sixth are there to reinforce.”
“Caleb I am telling you-” He was interrupted.
“We don't have a northern front anymore Brad! Its gone! Fifth Platoon is falling back to the town hall. Emperor knows the Orks haven't given up yet. Move 1-3 to Fifth's last position. Delta Actual out.”
“Frak it.” He cursed, telling Galviston to reach his third squad. “Delta 1-3, this is Delta One Actual...”

The sounds of fighting were still heard throughout the town. The echos of explosions bounced off of the buildings giving a false direction of origin. Only the flashes of light gave the positions of conflict. The air had grown dank with the smell of corpses. It was an unholy sight to see. Bits and pieces of ork viscera and limbs strewn about like a green carpet embroidered with gore. The blanket of bodies filled the street building to building at least one ork deep.

>>43878353
Parvin found herself nodding off, absolutely exhausted from the fighting. She would shake her head violently side to side, feeling the helmet slide on her head slightly. She blinked rapidly, the moonlight catching in her eyes causing them to glow faintly. In her daze she spotted lights appearing in the distance.
“Sarge, I got lights.” She said more grumbling than alerting.
“How many?” He gestured Galviston to ready another report.
“Dunno, eight, maybe ten?” Parvin puffed through her cheeks. Golbert shot Galviston an authoritative glance.
“Delta Actual, this is Delta 1-1” Galviston attached a sarcastic tone. “We have reports of eight lights in the west, possible enemy victors, how copy?” A moment passed before the channel chimed open again.
“We read you Delta 1-1. Inquisitive, Can you confirm from your position they are hostile? We should have friendly Hellhounds in the AO.”
“Negative, cannot confirm in our present position.” He released the channel. “Sure would be nice if we could send 1-3 since they had night optics.”
“Ray!” Golbert barked. Galviston assured him the channel was closed. It did little to ease the harsh gaze of the Sergeant.
“Understood, sending 6-3 to investigate, Delta Actual out.”
“I don't like this.” Galviston protested. “We are just sitting here playing point defense until the orks whittle us away.” He slowly began to walk across the large empty room.

>>43878353
He shook his head side to side grumbling as he did. The window frame lit up with a red glow as Martin and Parvin began firing shots. A couple of orks appeared in windows down the street, roughly a hundred meters away. There was no confirmation on the kill, the orks simply stopped popping up.

Parvin loosed a couple more rounds nonchalantly, hopping to suppress. Soon another two orks attempted to wade through the corpses, hoping to reach the other side of the street. A few more beams of light cut through the darkness.
“Looks like they are trying to relocate.” Martin hummed aloud.
“Which ones?” Golbert stepped behind him.
“The far building, three windows, middle one is a hole?” He pointed with a flick of his wrist.

Golbert stepped back tapping the side of his helmet. The vox chirped a few times before the signal came through. Once it did, he spoke almost bored to his subordinate squad.
“Delta 1-2, looks like one of the nests is trying to move. You should have a better visual on them. Break” The vox chirped “About one hundred meters west of our position. Building with the three windows. Middle broken. How copy?”
“1-2 Copies. Putting rounds on target.”

Seconds later the flicker of red lights illuminated the facade of the building. They strobed silently in the night. Only bright flashes gave away their position. It was dazzling, but only worked to tier Parvin more. She clenched her eyes tightly.
Rubbing them. A bullet landed violently on the concrete frame next to her. The sudden and loud thud woke her, causing her to jump back reflexively. A few more shots were fired. The ork's crude weapons created a noticeable muzzle flash.
“Tep, light 'em up” Golbert spoke.

>>43878492
The heavy bolter fired a few rounds into the window where they came from. After it did another nest of orks began to fire. Las bolts traced them back to where they originated, and orks from another spot would fire. It boiled down to a game of cat and mouse. Once they fired, the orks would want to fire back. This pace of the fight was more what they were used to.

“4-1, If you scan due east, about your nine o'clock you'll see him. One of the big gunners.”
“Round up. Enemy victor destroyed. Wait, nope still moving. Round up.”
“2-2 to 2-3. We're flanking to your left hold fire till we cross the street, how copy?”


After a prolonged charge an enemy would break apart and sift through buildings. Becoming small pockets of resistance. As enemies moved they would become lost until they fired back. Naturally the Cadian's would have wanted to move as well, but circumstance deemed otherwise.

So the orks would vanish from sight, but not mind. Though they were only a few hundred meters away, it was almost as if they weren't there. This was explained to Sweker as the meaning of 'Fog of War'.
“They're right there, you know they're there, but you can't see them, therefore they aren't there.” As Galviston had put it.

>>43878789
MBT LR-31A: P -3-1 “ Little Thunder”

Tools clanked and clicked as the crews still toiled away on the engine. The crew and engineers bickered at each other demanding that their method of repairing was the admech approved method. The crew of the Leman Russ didn't wear flak armor of any kind, only domed helmets with ear sections cut out with headsets that covered their ears. Their uniforms were stained with slicks of grease and oil.

The simple repairs had been completed hours ago. The machine would work properly, the drive system simply didn't activate. Again and again they checked the promethium levels, and the secure fittings of hoses. All the while keeping flashlights and lamps over the engine block.
“It’s not the transmission!” Captain Reker argued. “The damned thing is secure, it spins, it kicks, it writes you letters home. It’s fine!” He jutted his hands forward argumentatively.
“Have you checked the igniter?” The driver Trooper Luppa suggested. “When I press the activation rune's the engine revs up, but it won’t kick over.”
“We've checked that. They are fine!” The sergeant of the maintaining squad commented back. “It’s the transmission, it’s not transferring to the axles!”

The two men argued back and forth as both crews continued to work diligently over the ancient engine design. Though the design was old and tempered, the parts were new. It was suggested that the machine spirits simply did not want to take to the new parts like a body would reject the wrong organ. A crew member reached in, under the instructions of one of the guardsmen.

>>43879014
The two men argued back and forth as both crews continued to work diligently over the ancient engine design. Though the design was old and tempered, the parts were new. It was suggested that the machine spirits simply did not want to take to the new parts like a body would reject the wrong organ. A crew member reached in, under the instructions of one of the guardsmen.

She was a tiny woman, almost restrictively short. Her stature was what limited her from being a foot soldier, however it make her perfect for operating vehicles. Though she was relatively safer in the armored vehicle there were still situations the tiny woman was put in that had their share of danger. She was held up by her waist as the guardsman lowered her more into the engine compartment.
“See the bolt on the coupling?” She mumbled an 'mmhm' to him. “Ratchet that towards us.”

The tool clicked as her hand wrenched back and forth until the screw no longer budged. She tapped it several times to test the fit of the parts. Satisfied she grunted and turned to look back up at the man holding her. Carefully he pulled her out of the engine compartment. Her face was covered in black grease. A red bandana that covered her hair was likewise tarnished. She smiled at the man.
“Lupa, try it now.” She barked to the driver.

The young man rushed to the front of the tank, opening the hatch to the driver's compartment. After he slid in and adjusted himself comfortably in his haste he reached for the leavers and wheel of the vehicle before pressing the activation rune. After a few meek sputters he 'felt' something in the engine turn finally, roaring to life sputtering its spent fuel. The crew and maintainers let out a collective sigh.

>>43879309
“So what was it?” Captain Reker asked.
“A gear assembly was loose, We tightened it up.” The woman responded. A smile grew on the Sergeants face.
“So what you are saying was it was the Transmission?” The captain grimaced as he turned away.
“Mount up! We got xenos to kill, L.T!” He shouted, ignoring the man.

DELTA ACTUAL

When the news reached him of the Leman Russ becoming operational, Cassin felt an almost physical relief. A smile crept on his face as he hefted his weapon to his shoulder, wrapping the strap around his neck. It almost felt foreign to him. The weight seemed off, yet it was a welcome change. He had made his mind up. During the lull in the fight he was to take two of his men and inspect the lines personally, leaving behind only two of his staff to monitor traffic. Any events that occurred would be transmitted directly to him.

It was as if he hadn't left the room. Once outside it was strange, the last time he had seen the sky was when the sun was still shining, now there was only darkness to greet him. His weapon pressed against his shoulder in a low ready stance as he began to walk off.

“We'll link up with Fourth Platoon, sweep up to First and end up at the north before returning here. If the orks are planning another major push I want to see it.”
“And if they are? What if we get caught in it Captain?”
“We'll just have to fight our way back, won't we Sergeant?” He tapped the side of his helmet. “ Delta Actual to all Delta elements. LACE report.” The channel hummed, but eventually the reports came back one by one.
“4-2 Green, Green 0 Green.”
“5-3 Yellow, Green, 6, Yellow.”
“2-1 Green, Green, 0, Yellow.”
“5-2 Red, Red, 7, Red...”
“3-2 Green, Green, 2, Green.”

>>43879483
The reports continued in until each squad that could report. All things considered the reports were not terrible. Most of the casualties were wounded. Ultimately there were few killed. The Captain breathed easy for a moment as he approached fourth Platoons closest squad.


DELTA 1-1

Galviston sat next to a window frame that had been chipped away. He would peer over it occasionally before returning. He fiddled with the lid of his canteen. He tipped the canister pouring a bit of water into his dry mouth. There was still a good portion left. His constant action on the vox left him scant time to drink. He looked around the empty room. No one spoke, only the dull muffle of clothing or a foot placing itself was heard.
“Delta Actual to all Delta Elements. LACE report.” Galviston rolled his eyes before putting the canteen down.
“Hey guys LACE Report, check your gear.” Galviston spoke raising to his feet.

The squad began to thumb through their kits and webbing. Each member took a mental inventory as they shook their canteens, searched their backpacks for equipment, and generally looked themselves over. The room became marginally noisier.
“LACE?” The reporter asked, almost on cue.
“Liquids, Ammo, Casualties, Equipment. It’s a standard check. Surprised he hasn't called one earlier.” Harel spoke.

>>43879788
The squad continued to shuffle about, giving a curt report on how they sat. Most of their equipment was present, only a few grenades had been thrown. Though the water was starting to run dry. Galviston and Golbert discussed back and forth whether one of their conditions was green or yellow. It was a calm tone, unlike their usual back and forth.
“Kief, Martin, Get to Rusty, grab one of the Jerry cans and bring it here.” He turned to his corporal “We should be green on the water.”
“Yeah yeah, I'm sending the report.” He activated the vox. “1-1 Green, Green, 0, Green.”
“Delta 1-1, this is Delta 6-3. We just got off the horn with the Captain. We confirmed, lights are hostile. You'll be the first to intercept how copy?” A new voice spoke on the network.
“1-1 copies all. Inquisitive, what are they?” Galviston spoke, suppressing a yawn.
“Kans. Good target practice. 6-3 out.”
“Great.” The tired corporal groaned. “Kans inbound, Brad.”

>>43880011
MBT LR-31A: P-3-1 “Little Thunder”

The medium tank rolled along the paved streets. The engine growled and sputtered as the fuel burned away. The crew had long gotten used to the dull vibrating of the hull as it traversed the ground. Each member had worked themselves into the grove they were the most comfortable in.

The crew was standard. A driver, Trooper First Class Alec Lupa the plain young man. Two Sponson gunners, Specialist Rick Merroe. A dark skinned and quiet man, Specialist Elsi Binkly, the diminutive woman. The Gunner, Sergeant Keith Bartoe, a chiseled and lean man, and the loader Specialist Trisha Telma a gruff redhead. Then there was the Captain Vince Reker, an often too proud of a man.

They communicated openly through the confined space, their helmets drowning out the ambient noise of the engine. To make things easier each of them was connected to an open micro-bead that picked up their voices and their voices alone. After such a long time in the tank they would grow used to the distorted and digitized versions of each others voices.
“Keep heading forward Lupa, turn in about 50 meters, left forty-five degrees” The captain spoke with his torso poking out of the top hatch.
“Roger. Turning on...” He paused. “Mark.” The vehicle turned.

>>43880105
As it turned and navigated the claustrophobic roads it came to a stop, looking down a long road that lead far from the town. It was flanked on both sides by buildings that protected it. Above their position was Delta 1-1, who were elated to see their heavy support arrive.
“Psyon 3-1, just down this road we got a cluster of lights that are enemy kans, call mark when you see them.” Galviston spoke. Bartoe looked down his optical sights. The view was grainy and green, but he could clearly distinguish the ork contraptions.
“Mark.” He responded.
“Their range was approximated at one point eight kilometers. Call mark when you have range.”

The captain began to bark an order. Bartoe grabbed the control stick for the main gun. Slowly the turret came to life, raising the barrel to the appropriate angle. The gunner watched the dial closely until it read the correct parameters.
“Mark.”
“Alright, you are clear to engage. We'll cover your three and nine. Happy hunting. 1-1 out.”

The captain shimmied back into the hull of the tank, closing the hatch, locking it in place. Once he took his seat he looked over his crew, nodding as he pressed the optical device against his face. The black rubber forming a perfect seal.
“Ready weapons!” He barked.

Binkly and Meroe fed a chain into their heavy bolters, pulling back the charging handle. The rounds clicked into place.
“Sponsons up.” They responded
“Lascannon?” The Captain asked.

>>43880192
Lupa shifted his weight over to the weapon mount beside him. He locked the power cable in place and watched as the diodes on the battery lit up. He released the handle of the weapon, scooting back to the drivers seat.
“Lascannon up.” The young man echoed.
“Main gun?”

Bartoe reached for the locking lever to release the breach, as it slid down Telma grabbed one of the large shells, sliding it into the barrel. Once the casing was in place the breach slid closed.
“Up.” Telma spoke.
“Gun ready.” Bartoe bellowed.
“Understood Watch traverse, six degrees right to left. Adjust for scatter. Fire.”
“On the way.”

A loud thump shot across the tank as the main gun blasted a round from the barrel. The pavement shook, kicking up the nearby dirt into the air as the blast wave carried it away. The loud roar took 1-1 by surprise. Inside the tank they felt the sudden shake of the gun's recoil, and heard a dull thump.

After the round traveled downrange a bright light was emitted from the impact. Reker continued to scan for other targets in the scatter zone as well as monitor the shot.
“Good hit. Next round, HE Blast. Gunner traverse right three degrees. Watch traverse six degrees left to right. Adjust for Scatter.” As he spoke Telma reached into the ammo storage pulling out another blunt headed round, loading it into the breach.
“Up.” She spoke as the round was loaded and the breach closed.
“Gun ready.” Bartoe uttered in his well-rehearsed tone.
“Fire.”
“On the way.” Another thump shook the behemoth.

The tank continued to roar in the night shaking the ground, kicking up an ever growing cloud of dust from its firing. The orks that were in the nearby buildings decided to fire on the armored vehicle. The bullets harmlessly bouncing off of the thick hull. The orks carelessness allowed the infantry above to fire upon them in return. Keeping the greenskins heads pinned as Little Thunder did its work.

I'll continue later its like 4am for me right now

File: 1430303396762.png (3MB, 707x1000px) Image search: [Google]

3MB, 707x1000px

It was a chance of complete impossibility turning into possibility.

After all, for Andrea Sandovsky, third daughter of the industrious Sandovsky family, there was nobody quite interested in her. Not when she had two far more attractive sisters (or at least capable of inheriting more cash). Thus, her suitors amounted only to the desperate middle-class seeking to move up in social status or to those children equally unwanted.
So when she walked on the estate coast the morning after a terrible storm in her best dress, she considered finding a beached, attractive dark-haired merman, she instantly called it a miracle.

She immediately brought him to her bathtub, filling it to the brim and plopping him in while watching over him like a warden.
"Am I... Where am I?" He jolted to wakefulness after about an hour.
"Hi, husband!" Of the many things that one could mark for flaws, Andrea had an almost perpetual optimism in her voice. It was so much that it had been part of many rejections. "Are you okay?"
"Where is this?" His strength took its time to return. As it was, he could only begin to lift himself up.
"This is my mansion!" Andrea stared dead at him. Her pale mint dress was soaked, but it was clear that it was beginning to dry. "I saved you! That means we're gonna get married!"
The merman was clearly not enjoying being awake, especially in the company of a loudspeaker. "What? Married? Why would I marry you?"
"Because that's what it says in the book!" It served nothing to help his confusion. "You know, the book that says that if I do something important like save your life, you have to marry me!"
"What book?"
Andrea took a pause to try remembering before summoning a butler to bring over the book: A pulp novel, with a cover depicting dashing broad-chested man with a women behind her. She was about to hand it over before remembering that the pages were not waterproofed, so she instead settled for opening the book for him. She already had a page marked for this.

Reposting after a quick edit.

It was nearing the winter festival, but there were some that would not be celebrating,
Including a man in white robes whose legs were colored red, an arrow sticking out of his leg.
A warlock, the king had turned on his cult after promising them a large sum for an accomplishment.
His fellows had fled or been killed, and he was without company or a place to stay.
And as the snow began to fall and the cold set in for the night, he knew he was dying.

He placed a hand upon his leg where the arrow had entered, and brought the hand near his face.
The blood was still warm, but quickly chilled in the wind, causing his hand to shudder.
Closing his eyes, he placed his hands inside his robes and close to his body to preserve heat.
>What a shameful end. I would have been a prince, and led those barbarians into a golden age of magic.
He swallowed, remembering his noble heritage, taken away from him by circumstance and conspiracy.
>Now look at me.
>Thrown out of academia, banished by my own brother, and now that we are betrayed by our employer, even the cultists of my patron abandon me.
>Is this some sort of cruel joke?
>The punishment for ambition?
>Maybe this is just what I have earned for serving the Unseelie court.

The wind picked up, prompting him to shudder, but his body temperature slowly sank further.
>It's so cold here- has my mistress betrayed me?
Pain shot through his leg as he curled up tighter, causing him to wince.
>Then I should just die, and let the gods pass judgement on me.
>Perhaps they can grant me mercy in oblivion, and my mind can finally come to rest.
He closed his eyes, surrendering to the cold and hoping to at least expire in sleep.
>Brother, if I could just see you one last time, to ask for forgiveness.
>But if it's too late for even that much... If this is justice...
A sigh and two tears were to be his final declarations in this life.
>I can accept that.

>>43882441
Continued.

However, as he heard boots on snow, the movements of those who knew not that he was there, his will stirred within him.
Motion. Life. Warmth. Action. The world.
Everything he was leaving behind.

>What am I doing?
His eyes jerked open, his arms shuddered to life, his leg twitched and spasmed again.
>Dragon's blood, the blood of warriors and royalty, runs through my veins!
>I can't just let myself be snuffed out- watch my legend fall by the wayside!
If even peasants could find the will to live, surely he could at least find a home among the people of the world.
His life had not come to an end yet, and he had power and knowledge within him that could still stir the world to action.
>I have to live- to make my dream come true!

Ignoring the searing pain in his leg, he moved to a crawling position and began to search for someone to flag down or somewhere safer for him to rest.
>Whatever it takes, I'll pay...
>Even if it costs my soul.
A cough indicated that his lungs still worked, and spurred him on.
>Even if my brother could never forgive me for what I do, I will have what is mine.

As he began to drag himself towards an inn, he was interrupted by a humanoid figure that stepped in front of him.
His eyes widening, the warlock in white jerked back and prepared to defend the life he was planning to throw away mere seconds ago.
The newcomer, however, didn't seem intent on killing him, even though he was swathed in menacing black robes.
In fact, this mysterious man knelt down and stretched out his gloved hand to the wounded one.
"Would you truly pay any price, even a thousand years of slavery, to see your dreams become real?"

Looking upon his hand again, the man in white saw his blood, his life, and remembered all that had been taken from him.
Then, as he turned and looked upon his apparent savior, his eyes glazed over.
"Anything. Everything."
His face was beyond seeing, but the man in dark robes seemed pleased. "Then I have an offer for you."

>>43881859
It was near the very end of the book, when the dashing adventurer finally defeated his arch-nemesis and rescued a lovely damsel. She thanked him in that way all women did through swooning and the adventurer accepted in that romantic way all adventurers did. The next couple pages depicted the coitus that ensued, and the final page had one question: Will you marry me?
Perhaps to a more savvy fellow, this would be a thinly-veiled proposal. To a dazed, disoriented merman who was immediately being pressed into marriage with a woman he knew nothing of, this was just a stick on the pile that's already stacked high. That said, however, he was thankful that she saved him from suffocating out on the coast.

"Pardon me, miss," he cut off her fantasies, "but I have no understanding of your mission. However, I am thankful that you have rescued me."
"Ah?" She paused. "Am I going too fast? Oh, I knew we needed the whole adventure!" She deflated, her grip on the book nearly slipping. "Can I..at least ask for a kiss?"
The merman thought for a second. "I suppose that could not hurt." Before he could even ask where, the rich daughter immediately puckered her lips. He decided to at least her this much and kiss her. Though he just considered it a courtesy, the way Andrea tried to be receptive with her tongue left him curious.
"D-did you like it?" her gaze was sloped, like she just drank a strong pint or two.
"Um..." He seemed completely unable to answer the question.
It made her contemplate further, counting so many other adventures, predicaments and schemes. She was about to leave before he lashed out and grabbed her hand. "I think you seem to be taking the wrong way, but I just met you. I don't even know you, and you're asking of a wedding and romance and all this custom like I am ware of it when I don't even know you."
She gasped. Of course! This was no mystery story! "That is a terrible mistake on my behalf! My name is Andrea Sandovsky!"

>>43882727
"Then my name would be Lyamuntharas."
It was admirable how she struggled to adjust to his name, attempting to mouth out the syllables before giving up and just calling him "Lance".

Try as she might, Andrea was unable to stay with her new visitor and thus entrusted her butler to keep him company while she went off to have the life of a third-born daughter socialite. Gossip with friends, visits to high-end art shows and cinemas, lunches at fancy restaurants, all while "Lance" had to wait in a bathtub far from home, with only an old man as his company and his only food being a surprisingly abundant supply of sardine cans.

In fact, Andrea almost forgot she had company, for she stepped into her bathroom late at night to jump back in surprise when she saw a man there with the torso of a fish.
She got real fidgety real quickly. "Um...are you by any chance...Lance?"
"You remember me?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Glad to see you enjoyed your day."
"I'm terribly sorry about that!" she clammed up. "When I found you, it was at a really tight spot of my schedule. I was already yelled at enough!"
"I had just thought you forgot I was here."
"I...almost did." She began panicking. "Oh dear, what am I supposed to do now? There's no way I can move you over to another tub without my sisters knowing and they would kill me if they knew I was using their rooms!"
"How about just coming in here?"
She blushed in an instant. "T-that's so forward! We only barely met and you already ask to see me naked? You mermaids must be bold!"
His face remained flat. "Not like I am wearing anything. Unless you see another plan, I think you might have to either let me go or just skip this bath of yours."
Andrea clenched her fists. "Fine! I accept your challenge!" She immediately rid herself of her towel and dunked herself into the bathtub, right across from "Lance", her face even more flush. The merman merely remained where he was, calmly gauging his captor's nerve.

>>43883936
Andrea's attention first focused on herself. Despite being the youngest of the Sandovsky sisters, her bust was perhaps the best-endowed of them. She only remembered this after entering when it became evident that he might be staring at it, so she covered herself up.
"Sorry, it's just that...when a couple goes bathing together, that's usually a sign that they want to go further in their relationship..."
"Lance" merely looked on. "It is curious why you seem protective of yourself, yet your story mentioned a lovemaking session of...complete and reckless abandon, I must say."
Andrea only got redder. "Um...well, that may be true, but I think that you might not be interested in me in that way, so..." She caught her tongue on something. "N-not that I'm implying anything! I'm totally not! It's just that I have no idea how I'm supposed to read you..."
His voice was not moved. "How would you expect me to express this to you?"
"Well...if you like me, then you could kiss me again...but I understand if you-" her words were silenced as her approached her, his hand resting on her shoulder. "Would this be a yes?" The ensuing kiss was answer enough.
"I must admit that your customs are curious, almost over-eager," he summarized, "but I feel as though you still mean well. Perhaps you should not rely so much on your plan and let things take their course."

Whatever plans she had fell apart at the seams right then and there. After all, what kind of woman would she be to refuse the request of her guest? Especially if that guest was a handsome merman? Sure, it led to all of her conversation topics to immediately go down the drain, but to fill the gaps, "Lance" was more than willing to explain a bit about his civilization and how the merfolk lived off the coast. Of course, Andrea then had to explain about her life and her family. As it turned out, "Lance" was actually a diplomat of his people, whose plans were derailed when a storm hit.

>>43884748
The bath, which normally would have been an in-and-out affair for the socialite, ended up taking a good two hours between the conversation and advances between the two of them. Sure, it never went further than a kiss and the eventual grope, but the two eventually got more comfortable with each other. When Andrea had to finally leave, it was with a refreshed relationship and a rekindled hope of marriage.

As the days passed and "Lance"'s strength returned, they managed to progress further. With his health returned a surprisingly more aggressive approach, with his hands exploring more of Andrea's body with each day. It almost frightened her how quickly he proceeded, but with the goal being marriage, there was no cost she wouldn't take.

And then it happened.
"Lance" pressed himself onto Andrea and for the first time, she discovered Lance was actually like a fish down there. Granted, she knew nothing about sex aside from what she read in her novels, but seeing it in front of her was more than enough for her to understand.
"Um, Lance..." she commented, "A-are you sure this is the way you want it?"
"You have been visiting me with increasing frequency, Andrea," he added. "You could always say no, but...do you really want to pass this chance up?"
When he put it like that, there was no way she could refuse.

That night, Andrea Sandovsky was a maiden no more, as she gave herself to the handsome black-haired merman she rescued. Surprisingly, even though she was a virgin, she has a remarkably strong endurance, pushing on further and further on "Lance", despite being filled to the brim with his seed. After all, this was all she wanted: to have someone as mad about her as she was of them.

Andrea spent that night in the bathtub, asleep in her catch's arms.
After getting dressed, she decided to carry "Lance" out of the tub for the first time. She would present him as her mate.
Astoundingly, her mother was actually more glad than confused for her daughter.

>>43885436
Sure, it would be hard to explain that her daughter was in love with a fishman, but since this was an actual person instead of some pulp hero, it meant more to her. The two immediately danced around, or as much as a merman could when out of water.

But that also meant that Andrea had to return "Lance" to his domain in the sea.
After two weeks together, they finally had to leave.
"So...this is goodbye, Lance..." the lovestruck heiress kept her wits about her. "You've got to go..."
"I guess I must." The Merman smiled. "But I know that one day, I will come back for you. Maybe we could even get married that day..."
Andrea shouted, "You better!" She pushed him off-shore. "You'd better bring me a really nice present so you can propose to me!"
The last she saw of that magnificent merman was him waving off in the distance before the drop-off.

Andrea waited months, and those months were harder than any before them. Being without "Lance" felt like a piece of her was literally ripped out of her. The bathtub felt empty without him there and without him, there was so much she wanted to say, but nobody to say them to.
Distraught, she decided to write a book about her romance. It helped at least keep her mind off him.

Three months later, another storm hit the coast.
That night, Andrea ran out to the coast and immediately found a dark-haired merman lying there, on his neck a pearl necklace.
She kissed him then and there.

In case anyone ever felt like voicing something, imagine Lance being voiced by Tom Hiddleston. The pic kinda does half the work anyways.

>>43859054

We finally get to the city, our quest is to infiltrate a crime guild, work our way through the ranks, and find out what evil force is funding and driving them. Blah blah blah, doesn’t matter. I’ve checked the Henderson Scale, pretty sure we got to 1.75 Henderson level of plot derailment, so we never actually found out.

Upon meeting our boss in the crime guild, he makes the Drow feel insulted, he vows he will have revenge by claiming the NPC’s life later. Boss tells us that since we are so unknown, we’d serve the guild well by infiltrating yet another crime guild. So going undercover… undercover. If only we weren’t a collection of disfunctional fuckups.

The party is

-Drow Sorcerer named Fhurin- lawful evil, destined to ruin the story
-Warforged Fighter named SENPAI-01- Stupid Good, emphasis on stupid, makes fun of my rogue’s full body burns, not supposed to be in this setting
-Elf Ranger named Nymm- Chaotic Neutral, runner up for biggest idiot
-Half Elf Sorcerer named Xandar- Neutral Stupid, wandered off in story since player didn’t show up much
-Wild Elf Rogue named Nayra- Chaotic Good, Developed into loathing his adventuring group. Never got his full body burns healed, since the last story he has taken to wrapping his whole body in bandages.

>>43900906
Might accidentally switch between their names and their class as I’ve been doing so far, sorry in advance.

So, we decide to go to the local pub in our sector of the city to gather info. Warforged and Drow sit in a corner and plot vengeance, my Rogue sits and just waits for the Ranger to make an ass of himself, as does the DM.

Not one to disappoint, he gets 100% blatto, he then tells the DM that he stumbles outside. DM says okay.
He says he walks around until he spots a couple. DM says okay.
He walks up and licks the wife’s eye. DM says okay.
DM then says a guard comes up. They “talk”. By talk, I mean Ranger tells the guard to fuck off, then they fight.
To this day, it’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever heard a DM say, “The guard backhands you with his gauntlet, you take 20 damage, roll initiative.”

Needless to say he got beaten up and arrested. The next morning we receive word that he is in jail and we need to pick him up. They decide the Rogue should do it… for some reason. Yeah, a slight breeze hurts his whole body, seems like messenger material to me. (In truth it was because I played the only character who would interact with NPCs like a normal, sane person would).

>>43900906
>>43900935
So I bandage up and stroll on into the jail, talk to the guard posted there, “Hi. I’m here to pick up an Elf named Nymm. I have his bail money.”
Guard: “Ah, great, thank you, we’ll release him tomorrow.”
Nayra: “Tomorrow?”
Nymm: “WHAT? BUT-”
Guard: “SHUT UP DRUNKY! Yes, sir. He must get branded before we can release him, and the guy isn’t in until tomorrow.”
Nayra (ignoring the panicking Ranger): “Branded?”
Guard: “I SAID SHUT UP YOU DEGENERATE ELF… Yes, my bandaged friend, in this country, we brand our problem drinkers. Any barkeep knows not to serve them.
Nymm: “Oh my God, Nayra, help me!”
Nayra (still ignoring): “Ah, what I nice idea. Okay, I suppose I can come back and pick him up.”

Satisfied, I leave him screaming in his cell and go tell the group he’ll be back tomorrow.
No bartenders will serve him, afraid of facing the wrath of the law. That Guy dealt with.

Or so we thought, later the 2nd crime guild finally shows us their base of operations. They have an entire underground army operating out of a legitimate looking building in the nice banking district of the city. While they are showing us their barracks, Ranger sees a criminal drinking ale, walks up, and demands the man give him him the drink. Man says no, so he snatches it and drinks it. Successful rolls are made. DM says the man is now hostile and a fight starts, Ranger wins initiative and hits the man with the glass. NATURAL FUCKING TWENTY, kills him. With his own cup. Entire group is in hysterics at this point and DM thought fit to end the session there.

>>43900966
There is one more story I have on this group. The explosive conclusion.

>>43881859
>>43877495
that's some damn fine writing.

>>43900906
>>43901010
Do continue

>>43901010
>>43901220
So. This is what happened during the final session of this disastrous campaign. As a recap, we are infiltrating a crime syndicate. To gain their trust, they are sending us to infiltrate yet another crime syndicate. So we are now triple agents, in a group that is too dysfunctional to survive an introductory lvl 1 dungeon. Also, the first crime syndicate has arranged for us to receive a carriage full of magical explosive crystals to blow up the second crime syndicate.

One last piece of info to note, the boss of the first crime guild insulted Fhurin, the evil drow sorcerer. That comes into play here.

-Drow Sorcerer named Fhurin- lawful evil, destined to ruin the story
-Warforged Fighter named SENPAI-01- Stupid Good, minus all that pesky Good
-Elf Ranger named Nymm- Chaotic Neutral, now has brand on neck that says “Do Not Serve Me”
-Wild Elf Rogue named Nayra the Burned- Chaotic Good, Full body burns, hates the group. Learned to be relatively good at disguise. Got the snatch arrows feat because Fhurin kept pointing him out to enemies, rendering disguise pointless.
-DM- has to have given up on his story by now. Will let us roll to do anything, generous to good rolls, cruel to bad ones.

>>43901770
So, we are supposed to roll up infront of the 2nd crime guild’s building with a caravan full of red exploding crystals, leave it there, and blow it up. So simple. How could we possibly mess this up?

Nymm is to wait outside of the 2nd guild's building, keeping watch for any possible issues there. SENPAI-01 and Fhurin are to escort the caravan across town, and Nayra (my character) is to disguise himself as a guard and wave the caravan through a checkpoint during its trip.

Every guard at the checkpoint is on syndicate payroll, so it is less of a disguise and more just my character sitting around in armor socialising with some rather nice corrupt guards. We basically waved through every caravan, the one full of explosives got through because the Drow and the Warforged weren’t with it. Instead they decide to wait behind at the first guild’s base, with one of the crystals.

>>43901770
>>43901791
They walk from room to room until they find one with a lit fireplace. Excited to finally have his revenge for being insulted, Fhurin the Drow throws the explosive crystal into the fire. The Warforged helped.

Jaw dropped in disbelief, the DM tells them that they explode, along with the the whole crime syndicate we were supposed to infiltrate. He tries to maintain composure as he asks the Ranger what he does.

At the same time, Nymm has decided that wants a piece of one of the crystals. One small enough to conceal (presumably so he could kill party members with it). Gets a chisel and tries to chip off a shard. DM tells him to roll, and his luck finally runs out. He causes a spark. KABOOM! Explodes, along with the second syndicate.

Both of these events happened at the same time, in game and out. Poor DM had to watch his campaign crumble as most of the party stupidly blew themselves up. In two different events, simultaneously. Along with every important NPC. To his credit, there were no take backs. Like so many times before, he asked me what I do. I tell him.

>>43901770
>>43901791
>>43901813
As Nayra hears the 2 explosions, and sees smoke billowing into the sky from the locations of both Crime Guilds, he finally decides he’s done. He removes his disguise and thanks the guards. Knowing deep down that his “adventuring group” is dead, he walks off into the sunset.

That’s how that game ends. But I like to think that it’s not where Nayra’s story ends. See, the DM never explicitly said that this game was in Forgotten Realms (he just consulted the campaign setting). This means that this could have been in any setting, even the one you play in.
So DMs, when your party is stomping all over your story, consider that perhaps, Nayra the Burned is out there, and he now has a taste for seeing mediocre heroes killed. And That Guy players who might be reading this… you’ve been warned.

>>43857557
Slates, chalk, and tallies.

Mel stood statue-still, head bowed, ignoring the darkness that surrounded her, not listening to the garbled noises that tried to fill her ears. Endless mist, shapeless yet implying countless shapes, swept around her. She could feel it as it flowed over her. Not cool and damp like mist should be, but hot and dry, crackling and sparking faintly as it moved over her skin. And as always, she heard someone call out to her. They were muffled and indistinct, but she had always been certain that it had been meant for her. When the dreams had first started, Mel had tried to call out in response, but no sound had left her mouth, only more mist, bright and alive. It had poured from her lips like water, and she’d felt like she was draining, dying. She had held her hands over her face, had cried uncontrollably. But that was before the years had passed, before she’d grown used to the dreams. Something inside her had hardened, and she no longer felt fear of the mist and the dark.

Slow and deliberate, she raised her head and took a deep breath, sucking in some of the mist before it could flee, as it always tried to do. The noises died and the darkness lifted, until only she was left, sodden with sweat. She felt the cold ground under her feet and against her bare back, felt her hands bleeding from the cuts on her fingers and palms, felt the cool, reassuring texture of the stones in her hands. Shaking, she stood and looked up into the pre-dawn sky, the stars above fading into the pale blue. Her makeshift camp was hidden in the scrub behind a granite pillar, engraved with words she couldn’t understand, not just because she didn’t know the language, but because she couldn’t read even if she did.
How long had she been living like this? It didn’t matter. It had been so long that she couldn’t remember living like anything else. She would have forgotten her own name, if not for the mists reminding her every night.

>>43902047
Wearing poorly made clothes that had been pieced together with throwaway rags and the furs of whatever animals she managed to catch, she picked her way through the scrubland to reach the clear stream that had been the reason she’d made this camp, and cleaned the mud from the fresh cuts on her hands. She didn’t feel scared, or lonely, or hungry. She barely felt the weather anymore, except at its extremes. Occasionally, she’d catch a glimpse of her reflection in the water and see a girl with dull grey eyes, matted black hair that had been hacked short in places, and an expressionless, emotionless face with a scattering of scars.
--------
Something I wrote ages ago, with the vague intention of doing something with it. Dunno if I ever will, but got a spur-of-the-moment desire to share.

>>43866027
On the table lay a bolter, adorned with the figure of a woman with hair like an kraken's tentacles. On top of it was a figurehead that only barely resembled an eagle.

"He is dead?" The Watch Captain asked. His massive Terminator Armour-clad figure cast a shadow over the entire table, and the only difference between the figure and his shadow was the silver arm and grey pauldron.
"He gave his life to destroy the abomination." To the captain's left was a Raptor, clad in only Scout Armour, as those brothers are wont to do. His delivery of the debriefing bore no emotion to his voice. Every blow that was inflicted, every round fired, all was recovered perfectly.
"He had asked to stay behind." Across from the Raptor was a Raven Guard. All that identified him was his white arm, an indication of his veterancy. "I had insisted that he leave the bomb, but he cut us off before we could reach him."
Next to the Raptor was a Techmarine of the Revilers. "Whatever that alien was, he held only animosity towards it. I and brother Sammeth attempted to apply logic to the situation, explaining the instability of the structure. He would not listen to logic."

Each of them gazed at the bolter. This was now all that remained of their brother. Their mission was successful. The depraved Commorrite fleshcrafter that sought to resurrect extinct xenos species was now himself extinct. This would have been a successful operation - it still was accomplished - but the loss of the greatest of their brothers weighed upon them all.
"Does he live on?"
The last of the group was an Apothecary, arm clad in gold. Though he had been quiet, he chose now to speak.
"He lives still." He produced a reductor vial and placed it on the table, right next to the bolter. "It will be returned to his chapter."
The Raven Guard commented, "His sacrifice now means the terror remains in the shadows, only a myth. As the Primarch would have wanted."

>>43893183
Not much of a story but I couldn't resist...

>SUNDAY SUNDAY EASTER SUNDAY! IT'S TIME FOR A SMACKDOWN IN THE LAND OF MILK AND HONEY AS THE MACHO KING, RANDY SAVAGE TAKES ON THE PRINCE OF PEACE, JESUS CHRIST IN A NO HOLDS BARRED HELL IN A CELL MATCH!

IT'S BEEN SIX MONTHS SINCE SAVAGE CAST THE SON OF GOD OUT OF HEAVEN IN THE MOST HELLACIOUS LOSER LEAVES TOWN MATCH IN HISTORY, TAKING THE CHAMPION'S OWN HOLY GRAIL FOR HIS OWN!

HOWEVER, JESUS WOULD RISE AGAIN WHEN HE CRAFTILY REDEBUTED UNDER A MASK AS EL CRISTO REDENTOR AND WON THE REVELATIONS RUMBLE, ELMINATING SHADRACH, MESCHACH *AND* ABEDNEGO ON HIS WAY TO SECURING A MATCH WITH THE MACHO KING!

TICKETS ON SALE NOW! BOX OFFICE ON THE WEST END OF HALLELUJAH SQUARE!

BUY NOW!

Heavenly Wrestling Entertainment will not accept gold bricks as payment for tickets, we know you just popped them out of the street, you sneaks.

>>43902853
The Captain removed his helmet. His face was crossed with scars, his teeth jagged and his eyes beady. "As Lord Corax writ."

The Techmarine presented with him a large boarding shield, mounted with the insignia of a kraken. "If only he had waited a little longer..." He remembered the hail of blasts his comrade took. Each of them could have been avoided if only the shield were completed. The Reviler had insisted on that, but he did not accept it. "Perhaps if I were faster..."
The Captain held his hand out. "What happened has. We can no longer change that."
The Techmarine sighed. "Yes, Captain."

Again the room was silent. For the Kill-Team, there was no need for mourning. They only came and left as the darkness, and especially for their fallen comrade, this was the case.
"You are dismissed," The Captain suddenly announced. "Torian, do what you must with the gene-seed. I...shall be writing the eulogy."
"Sir?" Sammeth paused. "Are you sure that you do not need us-"
"No. This was a...personal request."
Before the Raven could ask more, the Raptor grabbed his shoulder, "Leave it, Sammeth."
The Techmarine was the last to leave. "And the Shield and Bolter?""
The Captain stared at the two masterpieces. According to custom, the wargear would be distributed as the owner saw fit, but with the owner dead, that matter was now ambiguous.
"That shield..." the Captain asked. "Savair, you made that, yes?"
The Reviler nodded. "I did. The day he was promoted, I was commissioned to create it."
"It is your property now. You may honour it as you wish."
"Captain, are you sure of this?"
The Captain slowly smiled. It looked disturbing with his sharp teeth, but it was clear that there was some sincerity to it, "I have faith in you."
Savair took the bolter. "If that is what you believe, Captain."

That left only the Captain alone with the bolter.
He remembered the first day they met. Only a Carcharodon and a Star Kraken in service to the Deathwatch.

>>43903558
The two had a remarkable synergy despite - or perhaps because of - their isolationist natures.
They were the the thunder and lightning. One would appear first, always drawing their attention, but the other would then arrive, reaping a massive tally among their foes.
Together, they rose through the ranks, waging war against countless enemies of the Emperor. They even got promoted at the same time. The Carcharodon who led an entire crusade at the doorstep of the Tau Empire became a Watch Captain, while the Star Kraken settled to becoming a champion, where his art of combat would best be put to use...or that was how it was meant to go.
It was their their first mission after their ascension ceremony. It was his first assignment as Champion, and his dereliction of the shield cost him his life.

Now all the Captain had left were memories. Memories encased in a bolter.
"You damn fool..." he muttered out. He lifted the bolter gingerly with his massive fingers, like one would a wineglass. "You damn fool..."

He was not looking forward to writing a eulogy.

>Thunderous Kraken
>In the Deathwatch, there were a pair, one a Carcharodon, the other a Star Kraken. Together, they were responsible for over a hundred successful operations, each thanks to their unlikely friendship and teamwork. However, it was when they were promoted that tragedy struck as the Kraken died on his first operation as a Champion. His partner now serves an eternal vigil on Watch Station Artex, keeping guard of the only remaining memory of his partner: his bolter.

can i post something i drew for my next setting here?

it is below mediocre but it might be inspiring to write something about it?

>>43909450
go for it. You never know where inspiration will strike.

File: Uzn, The Unborn.png (302KB, 1200x1200px) Image search: [Google]

302KB, 1200x1200px

>>43909489
spoiler because i don't want to disturb this thread.

You may want to look at it from different perspectives.

>>43909727
It's like some sort of Rorschach inkblot test. It's oddly captivating; I think I can see a face, but then again it might just be a couple of random lines.

Go on, tell us what it's meant to be. Use spoilers though.

>>43910336
there are actually five faces. the sturdy father, the reckless mother, the crazed twins and the bitter son.

Each one has contributed to the stillbirth of Uzn (the fetus) in one way or another. Her corpse melded each member of her family in one unholy nightmare. Her soul is long gone but her body aches for the warmth of her mother's womb, the unconditional love from her father and this sibling bond from her brothers.

In my setting, the players are to face this nightmarish manifestation as an early boss. That's it i guess

>>43910552
Well that's disturbing

You have lucky players

>>43877052

The beast speaks to its creation, as it opens its eyes for the first time. Eyes stare back at each other, both pairs bright and intelligent.
"The time has come for you to claim your heritage. To know the reason. I was as the humani above, long ago. My arts allowed me to become what you see before you, at great costs. For me. For others. The prices paid have allowed me to see much. To know much. To know that the humani will sow the seeds of their own destruction in the ages to come, as they have done before. Nothing of beauty has grown, because of their recklessness, for five hundred years. For five hundred years I have killed - and have been killed, returned, created, destroyed. Many call me monster. They are right to do so. But never did I once doubt the sanctity of my mission.

An ocean of blood has been spilt for us to be joined for this moment, this less than a blink, this less than a grain of sand in the great hourglass of time. A thousand thousand wounds have I suffered and survived, but a single touch from you will slay me, never to return again. The last traces of my memory have finally been extinguished.

Your time is ripe. Go now. Become one with them. Guide them toward a new dawn."

With this, the next genesis reaches out a hand. The beast is slain. The light from the mouth of the cave is brighter than a super-nova, and just as full of promise for new life. Magic has returned.

---

Any good?

>>43911780
>humani
no

but apart from that, not bad.

File: velma stop.jpg (86KB, 499x368px) Image search: [Google]

86KB, 499x368px

>>43856298
>daemon

File: 1432935905285.jpg (59KB, 610x407px) Image search: [Google]

59KB, 610x407px

tg can generate some rather good discussion and feedback but I feel like since most anything I write is too long for greentext to be anything but obnoxious yet when I just post like a google doc link I feel like such links only ever get read by people right after they're posted as people viewing the thread later don't read the whole thread. Ideas?

I suppose it could just be people going tl;dr but that wouldn't explain why I always get a couple responses shortly after posting stuff and then it goes the way of kittens01.jpg

also just because I'm curious why is narrative posted as greentext. since black is way easier to read it seems like using greentext for OOC would make more sense

>>43921031
careful - you can literally drive yourself insane trying to figure out the logic behind /tg/

>>43924440
That ship has already sailed my friend.