Storythread

>>48293459
"A Knight in shining armor is a man whose mettle has never been truly tested..."
One foot in front of the other, his legs hurt with every movement. Every step sent a jolt of pain up his spine, his arms burned with pain but he kept walking. Sweat dripped down into his eyes, he blinked against the burning that stole his vision from him but he kept walking. It was damn near impossible to see outside the jousting helm anyway, still he held his sword and did his best to keep walking. The mist shrouded everything and he could hear wraiths and revenants in the distance. If he decided to sit down and rest he'd never wake up again. His sword was battered out of shape, it's edge blunted from battle, the tip flattened, but still he held it. It was his only defence against the horrors that stalked the battlefield looking for new additions to their blasphemous families and food for their twisted appetites.

Mist shrouded everything, the ground was churned to a muddy mess by the feet of soldiers, hooves of horses, and now the shambling feet of undead. Still he'd gotten lucky, found the remnants of an old brickwork road. He followed it, occasionally he'd stumble onto shambler. Sometimes they wore the armor of Baron Lacroix, sometimes they wore the armor of Lady Empris. Either way he cut them down and focused on moving.

'First Star to the Right and onwards till dawn my lad. That'll take you straight to the capital. Keep that in mind if you get seperated from the battalion!'

He hoped the old man was right.

He could hear something, a sort of wheezing whistling noise. He reversed his sword, held it by the blade and readied the grip for use as a hammer point.

But he didn't stop walking.

>>48294035
good story, good start to the thread

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>>48291210

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Marcus was staring at Hector, who was currently covering every square inch of his body with weapons of every kind. Maces, swords, axes - if it was ever used by a man, it was strapped onto him. To see all this on a person felt almost...insane.

"So..." Marcus struggled to comprehend, "You're taking all this to fight the forces of Hell?"
"You betcha!" Hector's grin was wide, almost too wide. "With all this, there's no monster that I can't beat!"
Marcus took a peer around. These were real weapons, all right. That had to cost a fortune to buy them all. "Did you lose a bet?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Are you serious? You're taking enough weapons to fit your entire party and then some!" Marcus' voice resonated with concern as he made one key observation, "I mean, how the hell are you even carrying all that around?"

"I can totally carry it all! See?" Hector began flexing his muscles, only to now realize the dilemma: He was immobile. He began struggling to heft the massive axe he had across his shoulders, but it failed to move and he began developing a strain on his back. He tried to lift a leg, but all he could get was a pitiful wobble. Even shaking his waist, in the hopes of shaking even one of those instruments off of him proved futile. "Um...give me a moment..."
"How did you even get here?" Marcus asked. The fact that he got no response from the struggling warrior only served to emphasize his disappointment. "Really, how are you going to fight like that?"
"Shut up!" He begins flailing ineffectually again. "I am totally gonna show those guys what's what and beat all the demons by myself!"
"And how are you gonna do that?" Marcus wondered. "By breathing on them?"
"I'll show you! I'll show everyone!" It was clear none of this bothered Hector. He kept on struggling, and Marcus just stopped caring and left the adventurer alone, trapped in a blunt and pointy metal coffin, struggling to even walk.

"Um...Maybe I could use a lift!"

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Based of this from drawthread >>48256163

Commissar and guardsmen cleaning a leopard 2a7 tank.

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He can feel it surging inside of him.
<Rage-Terror-Vengence-Recognition>
Not thoughts so much as emotion.
<Confusion-Inquiry-Desire-Greed>
The Dragon WANTS and honestly it's a relief at this point. Years going through the motions, getting passing grades when he knows deep down he could be top of the class. But why bother? Why excell, what is there to earn? A few numbers attached to the end of his Personal Identification Code? Some paltry luxuries passed down from their masters in recognition of being on the higher end of the bellcurve? He knew he was different, no one needed to tell him that. He'd thought he was just crazy at first. But the dreams came. None of this urban sprawl nonsense. Forests, Plains, Jungles, Ocean. Before widespread pollution. Giants, Strange Animals, men in armor straight out of an RPG wielding swords and spears and clubs. In his dreams he was something else. His dreams gave him what he'd never had in life.
<Purpose>

So he started excelling, crunching numbers, parsing code, getting involved in training excercises and programs. That all lead to this day, this moment, this pure realization.
<Conquest>

Enough, if Megacorps wanted to rule the world there wasn't much anyone could do to stop them at this point. Too much ground had been given, too much damage had been done.

But if you're going to live in hell why be a servant? He was a dragon reborn, he wouldn't live in the shadows of small, pathetic men who were too busy posturing to fix the world they'd destroyed.
<Birthright>

He is Fireborn and the world will awaken to the coming dawn.

>>48301573
"Every year we've held the military parade inside the actual city, so whose great idea was it this year to hold the damn parade outside of the city?" The squad captain's complaints went ignored by her two subordinates and the procession continued on regardless. Granted, all they had to do was sit tight, smile, and wave to the civilians watching from the city walls. But it was a thankless task and moreover, a boring task.

"Well captain, after last year's parade with the commotion over the gargantuans and the property damage, it wouldn't take a genius to conclude that holding the parade inside the city again would be a bad idea." The second lieutenant was still awake, that much came as a surprise to the captain. The magitech gargantuans had been the research department's love child, so their addition to the parade lineup was only to be expected. What had defied expectations was the "playful" nature of the gargantuans, something that had nearly put an end to the parade altogether. If only they could be so lucky this year...

"In all honesty, we should probably count our blessings that this only happens once a year." Even if there was some truth to the second lieutenant's words, it didn't make their current situation any better. The sunny weather would have been fine any other day, but it was precisely at this very moment that the captain wished for the sun to go away. The wide brimmed parade hats kept the sun's glare out, but it did nothing for the blistering heat.

"Is Charles already asleep?" The second lieutenant looked over and saw her partner's blank expression. "Yes captain, sleeping with his eyes open as usual." Under any other circumstance it would have warranted a firm reprimand but right now she could only envy the first lieutenant for his ability to sleep anywhere, anytime.

Next year, next year for sure she would request a transfer to the airship crew, even if it was just for a single day.

How long should I give The Bard Quarterly before bugging them? It's been a month now.

>>48305961
"Captain, are you sure we can even synchronize with the gargantuan from this distance? Didn't those brains back at the research department say we should at least be within a kilo of the thing?" The gargantuan stood motionless as a breeze kicked up across the wasteland. There was something more unnerving about it remaining motionless, especially after it had led the squad through the wasteland on an aimless chase for the past week.

"Charles, if you want to get any closer to the thing, you can drop Sue and I off here, and you can go up to it yourself. You might remember that the brains also neglected to tell us that it had an active particle cannon." The entire squad froze inside the car as the gargantuan turned its head. The center eye was pointed towards them now. If it raised its hand...one blast would completely erase any trace of them from the wasteland.

In any case, the clear and present danger suddenly made Charles reconsider his stance. "There's no harm trying to synchronize with it from this distance, right captain?" The captain simply waved for him to get on with it. If the synchronization worked, if they brought the gargantuan back under control...then she could look forward to the first shower in a week. But right now a shower was the least of her worries.

A moment passed, perhaps the silence in the car made it more tense than it should have been. At last, it was the research department's synchronization device which broke the silence. The captain recognized the sound, the same sound that she had heard several times over the several days. [Authentication Rejected]

Charles and the captain peered out from the car window, at the gargantuan in the distance. The glowing red eye wasn't a good sign. The deployed combat armor wasn't a good sign. The audible hum of the particle cannon, even at this distance, was definitely not a good sign.

"Charles...do you think you could out drive a particle cannon blast?"

>>48292326
Once... once, I had been renowned. Not globally, not even nationally. If I am honest, perhaps I was never really a person of great importance. But I had memorized many passages of the Quran, and my mother told me time and again that my needlework was as fine as any. Perhaps the word I was looking for is "accomplished." Or maybe I mean that once I was in a position to accomplish things, good things, things dictated by tradition to be wholesome. Once I could have been a wife, a mother, someone to care for and take solace in.
Lately, solace, like so many other things, is in short supply.
I do not remember much of the last month or so. Most of it is a blur of starvation and destitution, of callous existence and nothing more. I had a family. I had a home. Now... well.
No I have a calling. And if that calling is mere survival, then I shall survive the best I can.
>Short I know, but comments/criticism welcome

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You can see them if you go out to the edge, don't think anyone's ever seen one of the shadows up close. Most try not to walk the streets at night when they come out to gawk at us. Not just the shadows that keeps us inside, there's the jellies with their acidic spittle and the flutterbites that like to harass anyone wearing cloth products. (I.E. everyone in the city who isn't some kind of insectoid or reptile)

So yeah, the shadows. That fucking wall goes up for ten miles and is smooth on every surface. Only way into the city is via that portal gate in the center. Had a bitch of a time getting a hold of a pair of looking glasses but I managed it. Wish I could say more about them that's uinsightful really but I didn't get much insight on them via simple examination.

I was bored one night so I got a candle and a mirror and flashed some light at them. They flashed back at me, their eyes do glow after all.

Gonna see if we can communicate properly.

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>>48315394
not BAD per se but there's not much to judge. Decent narration at least.

>>48315480
Everybody in the company liked Bao. Not because of his personality, not strictly anyway. Surlier than a bull and as tight lipped as a priest's purse, Bao never said or did anything that would endear anyone to him. At least, not until he broke out Bobo. Turns out before the war Bao once worked as a traveling ventriloquist, been part of one big circus family. Traipse artists, clowns, sword swallowers, the whole tent and then some. His job was taking care of the little stuff, entertaining the kiddies and the easily amused little shows inbetween the big ones. He'd make his audience giggle like madmen as Bobo, with his big googly eyes and little black fedora, blabbered jokes while Bao kept up that mask of stoic, contemptuous bravado. He now did the same for any teary faced refugee kid the company came across, in the many camps that dot the countryside.

He was quite the popular act before the war came to his neck of the country. When a military unit from the "Glorious Revolution" came around, they shot up Bao's circus, proclaiming that such frivolous distractions had no place in what would be the New World Order. Plenty of folk escaped, fortunately, Bao included. But he could not get past the fact his old life was gone. Done in by ignorant thugs belonging to a vast but futile movement. The world would never accept the Revolution, so the Revolution lashed out at everything it touched. It hoped to bring as much as the world down with it, targeting in particular those who would play to "foul southern continent influences."

Like Bao's circus.

Bao talked about the day his way of life was taken from him many times, and just as many times he talked about how he'll get the Revolution back for what they did. For himself, for Bobo, and for all those got done in like them.

>>48316103
Hi IronQuill, curious if you're still gonna continue this story?:

>>48102691
>>48103024
>>48137370

>>48316310
Oh yeah, that one. Forgot where I was going with that one, but alright.

>>48316310
>>48316367
Halsey could not bring himself to like Anselme like he did Jonesy. For all his laziness and apparent better luck with women, Jonesy at least put effort into his work. Flirting included. Anselme, on the other hand, never acted like he had to try. Blue blooded, naturally skilled, classically educated, well trained militarily (for this world anyway), Aselme du Camille never had to work a day in his life. The only comfort Halsey got out of working with the native noble was that everyone thought he was a twat. Naive young women aside.

"'Pick a noble for your interpretor, they said, a noble would have a better feel for the locals...'" Halsey spat. "Better feel my ass..."

Anselme reminded him too much of the snooty suburbanites who make up the Legion's officer corps, thumb up their upturned noses and never caring for the average joes. None of them ever having to operate a protein cultivator or welding torch in their prim and proper lives. Speaking of which, one such snoot likely had Anselme in her quarters.

"Captain Bannon, Staff Sergeant Halsey reporting!" He knocked on the door to her portable with the same harsh knuckle smashing he did with everyone's door. Through the thin cheap polycarbon door, he heard the thrashing of bodies and blankets. A ghost of a smile appeared on him, he took the love birds by surprise. A moment later, the door cracked open, a dusky skinned woman in her mid twenties glared at him through the opening.

"What is it Halsey?" She made a visible effort trying remain professional, even if such a attempt was futile. Halsey already knew what went on between her and his interpreter, most of the village too.

"A girl from a nearby settlement has request my squad's help in investigating multiple thefts. They have cause to believe it is goblins." His speech was curt and professional as ever, a constant reminder to the Captain how she and her sergeant compared in their qualities as soldiers.

>>48325814
>old soviet heatwire dials
awesome

>>48325814
"I'm sorry ma'am but it looks like your motivators shot. This replacement is a bit bulky but it will last till Earl can get a replacement unit from the back room. Should only take a few minutes."

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The villagers gave the man a wide berth when he moved in. There were the usual whispers of witch craft and demons but those were shouted down quickly enough by the men who'd come back from the Avelynn Campaign. A whole kingdom turned to barren wastes and deserts full of wild magic in an instant with maybe a hundred men left who'd seen it first hand.

Shwarz was one of them, though if you asked him his cat Jaeger was also a witness. The two settled in quickly enough. Shwarz bought a cabin on main street from a widow at a price that let her move away and do whatever she pleased. He spent his days from there on loitering at the taven, nursing mugs of ale and sharing plates of sausage with his familiar. The cat spent it's time making kittens, picking (and winning) fights with the local dogs, and occasionally punishing children foolish enough to throw rocks at it with magical revenge that could last for months on end.

The villagers would make signs of the evil eye at the 'old' man and mutter behind his back but the war veterans would spend every couple of months drinking with him, sharing tales of the campaign and generallly commiserating.

No one asked him about the day Avelynn City went up in a flash of light that turned the most populous kingdom in the region into a barren, magic scorched wasteland. No one asked him why he carried the enlistment medallions of enough war mages to form a small battlegroup. No one asked why a man of a mere twenty five years looked so much older than he was.

When the bandits came the usual folk locked themselves inside and prayed for help from gods that were far to absent for anyone's liking. The war veterans gathered up their old armor and weapons and formed a little militia and...

The bandits never returned after their initial demand for ransom from the town. One of the shepherd boys said they saw the old War Mage go into the woods. Said he heard a whole lot of screaming. Everyone saw the smoke.

>>48335659
Nobody ever asked Shwarz what happened that night.

He never offered any details.

But after that he went on a little trip to see the lord who's soldiers were supposed to be looking after the village and when he came back word was sent that our taxes would be a bit lighter that year.

The boy who took over as blacksmith worked up the courage to speak to the wizard and he agreed to take time out of his busy schedule of sampling ale, wine, whiskey, and beer to enchant the occasional item.

When the taven owner's daughter asked to be his apprentice whispers of witchery started up. They stopped after the brewmaster made it clear that he'd personally silence those whispers by cutting off the flow of booze, or using his old war sword if he had to.

Shwarz liked the village quiet and lazy, he kept it that way. So did the witches and wizards who came after him. That suited the villagers just fine.

>>48335659
>>48335723
Each sentence has issues with its own prose, I think. It seems a little uneasy to read it through.

I can't help but think of the german "Schwarz (black)" every time I read "Shwarz". Translations are easy pickings for sometimes cool sounding names, but always end up being bitter to anybody who recognizes the origin. Got the impression you were going for a 'lightless' guy who didn't give much away about his personality and what-not, but that's just my impression.

The introduction of the cat familiar was butchered and nearly non-existent. Had to re-read the second paragraph a few times to put together random 'shes' and 'cat' and 'familiar' to realize the reference (kept confusing he for shwarz and she for the cat). Footnote: Try writing "picking - and winning - fights with..." rather than over-using parenthesis with prose.

>the usual folk
Perhaps 'common folk' would be more appropriate here. There is no precedent for 'who' the usual folk is, since it's a short novella.

>formed a little militia and ...
While some may understand your tacit insinuation about the deliberate silence and what it meant for the bandits, leaving parts of context blank is incredibly crude, especially with periods.

>Said he heard
Who said? Try not to start a proper sentence with said without actually definition who is speaking. If you're running on from the previous sentence, combine the two instead of leaving it broken up in that manner. (use of ; may do you some good here).

Hate to be a nitpick, but points like "Everyone saw the smoke." and "saw the old War Mage go into the woods." is generally sloppy using the statements also as a way of introducing the terrain itself. That is, you appear to be not only referencing the woods, but introducing the woods as a factor near this village where it hadn't been introduced beforehand. It's quick and slapstick and comes off feeling hurried. (is 'War Mage' a proper title since it's capitalized? have to wonder).

>>48335659
>>48335723
>>48336745
Damn character limits!

>liked the village quiet and lazy, he kept it that way.
Grammar doesn't read very well when you substitute a comma for 'and'. If in doubt, use both. Verbose text is still readable text.

Overall, abusing line breaks when you're still describing an event taking place without moving onto the next event tends to have a bad effect on the ability to get engrossed in a story. In example:
>Nobody ever asked Shwarz what happened that night.

>He never offered any details.
There is no reason for the line break. You aren't starting a new paragraph, nor moving onto a new and separate event in the story. It has nothing to do with character limits or trying to make the story larger than it is. Try not to do this too much.

Sorry for the heavy handed critique. I did enjoy reading the story.

>>48318833
The idea of being alone while investigating an abandoned Romanian castle was the opposite of what the Wild Dingoes mercenary company wanted to think about, let alone sign up to even consider. It was freezing, the intel was dubious at best, and there was absolutely nothing wrong that happened on the way there. No delirious citizens, no cryptic warnings over the mutilated remains of their coworkers, absolutely nothing tried to stop them from reaching their destination.

It went without saying that these hired guns were entirely expected and that unsettled them. Even for a pack of fourteen armed soldiers, the sensation of being outnumbered was prevalent.
"So, recap me on what the hell we're supposed to find here?" one of the five rookies asked. Nobody really remembered their names, and none of the senior mercs really cared to.
"We're just supposed to look inside, find whatever treasures this conservation society's looking for, and get 'em out before this place gets leveled next week." Sergeant Gideon recapped it all pretty well. "Only issue was that we never got any clue what these 'treasures' were."
Recon Specialist Donner shared the sentiment of unease. "I don't like it at all," the camouflaged scout muttered. "It's gotta be a trap. The society has to be a front."
The clean-cut sergeant agreed. "It's been far too easy. Team, keep constant radio contact. Safeties on, don't fire unless threatened, and keep in pairs. Vasquez, you got the flash?"
Vasquez, a twitchy noodle-limbed veteran, opened his vest. Strapped to the inside was 24 flashbangs. "Got it all, Sarge! Everyone, take one. Use it only when something's about to charge." The team accepted their explosives.
"So, pairs of two, Sarge?" Private Rosco snarkily asked. "Who gets the scrub?"
Gideon pointed at Rosco. "How about you, joker? Or did you think I forgot about what happened to your last partner?" The stinging question angered Rosco, but he had no comeback for it.

>>48338187
He grabbed one of the rookies by the arm and left as soon as the other groups broke off. Gideon came with Vasquez, Donner with another veteran, the rookies with each other, and that was the last time they would all see each other.

Two hours later, Gideon called for another group-up. Out of the fourteen, only nine returned. Three of the rookies were still alive, including the one that was with Rosco, whom was now absent. Gideon and Vasquez were still alive, as was Donner, now partnerless.
"Alright, explanations, people," the sergeant sighed. "How the hell did you guys lose your partners?"
The rookie spoke up first, explaining that Rosco was charging into some closet in upper levels in the castle, but when he checked in a second later, the closet was emptied.
Donner was investigating the massive dance hall. They found a room that stored tables and chairs. He advanced to find out what was further inside. His screamed when he must have felt something and fired his grenade. Though deafened, Donner's visor was more than enough to let him notice that he was somehow gone in a second. He couldn't even find a trace of the vanished vet.

While disappointing, this confirmed Donner's fear of it being a trap.
"So what's our next move?" the scout asked.
Gideon was about to mention falling back, but that was when they were met by some...unusual company.

"Greetings!" one of the sudden pack of women appeared. They definitely looked unnatural, exuding an air of inhuman beauty and innocence. Despite their fantastic clothing, definitely too light for the weather, they walked with grace. "Are you the ones they call Dingoes?"
Gideon answered, "So who're you?" He kept his gun in his grip, as did Donner. The others were already disarmed as these vixens began approaching them.
"We are the protectors of this estate," their leader replied with an eastern European accent, probably Serbian. "We are agents of the people who called you here."

I started writing a story for /tg/ months ago. It was a stupid concept (intrusion fantasy where a dragon comes to earth) with some fun twists (dragon believes Earth is hell, dragon is actually the first and his entire race is going to get banished). I've been working on it on and off since last December.

The concept has changed a lot over several re-writes, and it's honestly become kind of frustrating to write. I like the characters and concepts, but I can't help but feel like I'm making no real progress. I just keep seeing flaws, rewriting to fix them, seeing more flaws, and repeating. I know I should just say "fuck it" and keep writing anyway, but if there's a fundamental flaw with my story it's all just wasted effort.

How do you guys deal with this?

>>48340812
Is that the 'out the dragon to twitch stream so the government aren't able to vivisect him' story? It had so much promise!

Regardless, this is a normal process for writing a story. It's easy to look at accomplished writers who sit down and punch concrete for seven hours to rapidly construct an entire three hundred page book, but that doesn't say anything about the quality of the story.

The one resounding common denominator with aspiring writers (and those who finally managed to publish their first book) is that you *will* go through several versions, hundreds of corrections, and dozens of re-writes before you can just... feel... that it's ready. The best advice after learning that fact is it's extremely helpful to allow the story to air out over a period of time, gain some distance or perspective, implement new ideas, and be okay with writing the entire thing again from scratch so you have the rhythm down correctly.

And uhh... don't give up. Heh.

>>48340812
Czechfag here. Advice based on both personal experience and a bit of theory I've read on this subject:

If you seriously want to write, and are willing to make a bit of a commitment:
You deal with this by forcing yourself to write on. That is pretty much the only way to deal with it. Writing is a craft - and like any craft, there is virtually no other way to learn to do it well than by lots and lots of practice. If you don't feel confident in this story, write something else - write writing exercises, character studies, practice descriptions or dialogues. Leave the story alone for a few weeks to let it fester and mature in your head, then revisit it - but KEEP WRITING IN THE MEANTIME. Just start writing something else. Anything will do, actually.
One of the easiest way to get yourself writing is to practice automatic writing, which means that you'll essentially start writing your stream of consciousness without even paying attention to the fact that you are writing.
To practice that, just force yourself to write at minimum 2000 words a day. Anything, any bullshit, any thoughts that come to your mind. You can write a re-telling of a story you've read, or a funny memory you had with friends, and if everything else fails, write about how you can't think of anything to write. Just force your fingers to keep moving and your eyes fixed on the screen. Practice that for a couple of weeks and you'll suddenly find how much more fluent and easy the act of writing will become for you.

That is probably generic, broad advice for people struggling with their own writing.
Since I love to hear myself talk (type), I'll give some other more marginal pointers in the next post.

>>48340812
Cont. from >>48341150

A more marginal advices:
A) get used to the idea of rewriting. When you write, don't ever think of what ever you just wrote as "finalized" text. It's always a working version. Make peace with that. If you write something that does not sound satisfying, think of it as a placeholder text to bridge more completed parts for now. Don't get stuck. If you want the text to be good, you WILL be rewriting most of it, sometimes several times over anyway. Since you are not on a deadline, you can ALWAYS IMPROVE AND POLISH YOUR TEXT LATER, SO STOP SWEATING OVER CURRENT FLAWS, GOD DAMMIT!
Sorry. This such a frequent problem I'm running into when I talk to starting or aspiring writers that I'm starting to get frustrated over it.
B) Get used to the idea of cutting stuff too. Trust me - give the text a one month long rest, revisit it, and you'll immediately see parts you thought were the best will probably be completely wasted space, while parts you thought were shit are actually some of the best of the work.
C) SHITTY STORY COMPLETED IS ALWAYS HUNDRED TIMES MORE WORTH THAN AN UNFINISHED STORY OF GREAT POTENTIAL.
Think your story is shit? Who cares. Finish it. The exercise alone is worth more than the text itself. Learn to force yourself to finish your stories, even if you lose hope in them. Trust me, this was the single most painful lesson I've ever learned about writing.
D) Good planning helps most writers. Use a thinkmap, or a sketchbook, lay out the elements of the story.
E) Don't overdo your planning though. Sketch out the outline, then FORCE YOURSELF TO WRITE. Ad previous post.
F) You are NOT the one person in a million with an unnatural gift for writing. That means your first works will suck. That is a fact. You will first need to write several works that suck before you write anything that won't suck.
Don't worry, you can always cannibalize your earlier works for ideas later.

That was your daily preachy message from Czechfag.

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>>48338698
"The conservation society?" Already, some of the soldiers jerked their guns up. "Nobody said they'd be coming to greet us."
Donner added in, "Nobody said anything about what we were looking for either, so how about we get some answers now?"

The leader raised her arms. "Now, now, men. No need for violence here!" She took particular attention to Gideon, tracing his arm until he jerked it away. "My name is Bridgith. Please, lower your arms." The women's eyes glowed for almost an instant, and after that all the soldiers complied. "Good boys... Now, how about you let us...accompany you?"
Donner's goggles shielded him from their temptations, and he was getting even edgier. "I don't like this one bit, Sarge. We do it in threes." His gun was still aimed at the intruders.
Bridgith nodded. "We mean you no harm."
"Donner," the sergeant calmly replied, "relax. They're friendly."

That was more than enough for the veteran to open fire, splattering the head of one of those enigmatic women. That alarm suddenly shuddered whatever influence was held over the soldiers as they suddenly snapped their guns up and realized that they weren't surrounded by scandalously-clad women, but literal demons. Each of them sprouted wings and razor-sharp claws. Darkness suddenly shrouded the castle and inhuman howls of bloodthirsty harpies flooded the room.
That was the last anyone heard of the Wild Dingoes.

>Van Helsing International, Germany Branch
The Projector goes dead. The lights turn on and the masked man turns to the other, identified by his massive hat.
"So how'd you survive all this?" the man in the hat asks.
The masked man shudders, but he answers. "I take no pride in knowing what happened. I got lost, took a turn downstairs. I tried to call anyone, the sergeant, HQ, whoever could pick up. I found one of those...those demons eating Donner's arm. She tried to attack me, and I...well, I got lucky and fired a bullet through her heart. She died."

>>48336781
>>48336745
as much as I appreciate going to the effort of critiquing a little green text story you'll notice several issues.

For starters 4chan's character limit makes putting together a coherent narrative a real bitch. Especially when you're typing something up in the small hours of the morning on a PS3 with a keyboard. So I'm not really concerned with keeping the smoothest narrative possible for a handful of paragraphs that many people probably won't even comment on.

Secondly I'm experimenting with my narrative and uh...results vary on readibility and I do appreciate I could do a better job in that department.

Thirdly I reject everything you have to say about naming as I've done some research in this department. The preponderance of weeaboos on this sight makes me feel the need to mention Boku No Academia's mangaka and his naming habits which are usually unapreciable without a translator. But there's a side character with the ability to harden his skin into iron. His name is Testutetsu Tetsutetsu. Basically the word for iron/steel repeated fourtimes with certain kanji tricks to mess with it's meaning. Part of the reason is that the character's power is metal based,the other is that he's redundant. That is he's a side character with a similar apperance and power to another character in the story with a rpominent role.

So the name is a joke based on kanji meaning and repitition.

>>48342790
Shwarz, Black. I've known people whose name is literally 'Mudd.' (He was a total jackass but that's not really important.) In stories names tend to be significant, a way for a clever author to imply things about people. In real life? They often don't mean much. I've known guys who've literally forgotten their own names because what their parents named them is so ridiculous that they chose to just be called John.

So yeah, I'll take the German word for Black, slap it on a vaguely germanic looking wizard and call it a day. Names mean as much as you want them to.

Tl;DR
I take the spirit of the critique with some measure of appreciation. You are however wasting your efforts. This is not my best work. This will never be my best work and I'm unlikely to go into the dozens of revisions that a proper story needs to reach its full potential.

Might want to try a more in depth target if you want your suggestions to be put to better use. They're good suggestions, really they are. I have a hard time taking them seriously when applied to the writing equivilent of a doodle in a notebook though.

>>48342790
>>48342871
Yeah, I totally realize people have names that don't really follow a rule set of 'must not be simple or redundant'. Generally because people tended to have their surname quite literally after their profession. Boy, how many blokes have you met in your life with Smith as their last name?

The point I was trying to make wasn't that it's a super simple name with no thought put into it. Quite the opposite. I got the impression it was a convoluted attempt to apply a name to a character then define the character after-the-fact in a try hard manner. I can appreciate that names can have meanings, but personally I think it's incredibly unoriginal and passe to build a character based on a name instead of the other way around, or have it not be related at all. And bloody hell, that Tetsie Tetsie thing sounds awfully laughable. Then again, I haven't read it, so maybe I shouldn't judge.

As for feedback. It isn't designed to be instructions to follow. You take it or leave it, that's what feedback is. At no point do I feel that I've somehow 'wasted' the feedback I gave to Shwarz oldmate, not being able to take it back and give it to someone else. That's just conceited. Following that, I also don't feel it wasted if my feedback is ultimately never looked into, since this is an open forum and anybody can read it. It's also helpful to keep the mind thinking about writing, even if it's critiquing other work rather than actually writing. It's all useful in some way.

Lastly, even in the Shwarz story there was two posts rather than one (even more) compact post to give it room to expand, so I'm not buying into any character limit bullshit. It's annoying, but not insurmountable.

Not sure if both posts are same person. Anyway, take it as you will.

If they're good suggestions, then you are taking them seriously. Stop making excuses for yourself.

>>48342506
"I ran as fast as I could, picked up Gideon's camera and ran all the way back to the airport. Didn't sleep until I got on a plane."
The man in the hat smirked. "For a rookie, you got lucky. Succubi aren't the sort to attack unless provoked, and this Donner did just that. Succubi can alter the light that enters their eyes, encode subliminal messages through that light. To a guy wearing infrared goggles, that advantage is lost."
"So, you're taking the case, mister Van Helsing?"
Van Helsing stands up from his chair and approaches a door. He slides a key into the deadbolt and as he turns it, the wall next to the door slides open. "I am, but you're coming with me." The masked man pales. "You got lucky. In my field, you don't need luck - you need skills. And if this castle is where you said it is, then you'll have plenty of experience."
"What is in there?" Van Helsing opens a book before entering the doorway.
"Sixty years ago, my great-uncle sealed away the crown of a powerful demon. If the Succubi find it before we do, then Romania's going to be experiencing a new Reign of Darkness worse than anything even the great Abraham Van Helsing ever fought." As he enters the armory to gather some weapons, he grumbles something about calling in even "those damn gloryhog Belmonts".

The masked man looks at the guns, stakes, and bladed instruments on the table in explicit confusion. "Am I...supposed to use all this?"
"You are a soldier, right?" was Van Helsing's only response. "What's all this but your new tools of the trade?"
"But...what about all that about -"
Van Helsing cut him off. "First rule of Van Helsing: You don't question a Van Helsing. Second rule: The tools on the table aren't ever all you'll be required to use. I've got a hundred lessons my family uses. Interested in learning the rest?"

The masked man hesitated again, but he held firm. He had no reason to stay loyal to a dead cause. At least with Van Helsing, he might be able to put that cause to rest.

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care for anyone to do this elf girlfriend impressing her human boyfriend by wearing human clothing?

>>48341086
The twitch stream concept is dead, after I realized how fucking hard it was to make it realistic. I replaced it with something else.

The dragon is a lot more antagonistic now, which I kind of like, but also kind of hate. I'd love to know if you still think it has potential. It's here if you're interested:

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1fC1TACtbBVL9ko-KOQTrJdxB_s6sIVSCVypU_5C1JL4/edit

>>48341150
>>48341324
Thank you for this advice. I'll try to force myself to write 2K words a day from now on.

Okay, maybe not quite 2K, but at least 1K. Unfortunately I'm juggling this on top of launching a website, so my free time is getting squeezed. Hopefully I can figure it out.

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>>48338187
>>48338698
>>48342506
>>48344104
This...sounds like a good campaign idea.

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Gentle reminder that The Bard will still be accepting submissions until August 15th, and that we'll be sending out feedback, acceptance letters and good, warm, fuzzy feelings between August 17th and August 21st.

>>48353571
A couple of weeks ago you said that one of the stories on the wiki that stood out was 124: The Old Way. I'm still curious to know why.

>>48352979
I have an idea for this but also an eight hour shit in front of me.

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The missive had come at a time most unusual for the agencies of Raina Harriet, Paranormal Investigator, but the urgency of its contents was more than enough motivation to rouse the weary detectives into the dark and chilly Gainesborough night, occupied by thieves and beasts.

The carriage slows into a stop with the investigator asleep. By her side with the reins is her partner of dubious intentions, Marley Karlsson, a blonde ne'er-do-well dressed in men's clothes and identified only by her side-braided hair.
"Psst, Rai," the shifty driver whispers, "I think we're here." Her whispers are met only with uneasy shifting. "C'mon now! It wasn't even ten minutes!" Once it was clear that the detective was fully asleep, a sly grin erupted on her boyish face. "Oh Princess...Princess, wake up. If you're gonna stay asleep, then we'll have to play a trick on you..." Marley's face then slowly approaches Reina's, her grin erupting into a full smile with stifled laughter.

Reina's eyes shoot open before their noses even tap. Marley jerks her head back.
"What were you planning to do with me, Marley?" the suddenly-livid detective asks with an air of bitterness.
Her partner's eyes grow shifty. "Ah, Reina! Was wondering when you'd be up!" Her laughter is strained, almost embarrassed.
"What were you planning?"
"You were falling asleep over there!" The culprit attempts to shift the topic, "You know, maybe you should stop drinking so much tea! Maybe get something with bigger kick, like coffee!"
Reina is unmoved. "I don't drink coffee, and I don't like having my privacy invaded. Are we clear with that, you guttersnipe?"
"Guttersnipe? You wound me!" Marley recoils from the accusation. "Have I not been a most faithful companion, helping you foil countless plots malign, saving your skin enough times to deserve having my name up on your sign?"
Raina pays no heed to the cadence and actually looks disappointed that Marley tried playing that card.

>>48358777
"Aren't you also the same Marley Karlsson who worshipped a pagan witch god whose only goal was the utter destruction of the world beginning with Gainesborough and is also known as a plagiarist, being banned from life from every university mundane and arcane after attempting to invent your own course by only using other peoples' research?"
"And I thought we had something special!" was Marley's only retort.
"Special being that I keep forgetting why I shouldn't turn you in."

Marley hops off the carriage. "Fine! If you're gonna be like that, then -"
"Hello?" A voice squeaks from the edges of the street. From an alleyway emerges another woman in a detective uniform, similar to Raina's, but in blue instead of brown and with a frog's face adorning the hat. The newcomer's hair is similarly tied to the side like Marley's, but is tied together by a charm that looks like a snake. "You're...You're here, Raina Harriet. Thank you for coming."
"What, you're here to be friends with this grouch?" Marley asks with her pride yet to heal. "Don't bother? Miss bossy-britches here thinks she's too good for friends. Or coworkers."
"Shut up." Raina gets up from the carriage and notices the guest's hair as green. "I recognize you. You're Sally Cornelia, that cleric who tried to hijack Gainesborough's mystic fields for the sake of your own divine sources." With a single motion of her hand, the brown-and-red detective pulls out an orb of red and white. "Don't think you can try the same trick twice and expect to get past me."
Sally raises her hands, "No! No, please, Miss Raina! I don't wish to fight you!"
"Then talk. What do you want?"
Sally exhales. "I...am unfamiliar with this city. If you are willing to let me stay the night, I will explain."

"Didn't you hear me before?" Marley repeats, "She's closed for business, N-O..."
Raina grunts as she sits back in the carriage. "You'd best have a good reason to send me something that urgent."

>>48359205
"Thank you," Sally bows her head. "I apologize for inconveniencing you in this way."

The trip back to the Harriet Residence/Office went by without notice and before long, Raina, Marley, and Sally were all sitting in Raina's tea room, each with a cup.
"So you'd best start explaining," Raina begins as she pours the tea while smoking a pipe.
Sally nods. "Yes. You remember well that I did attempt to use the magic of Gainesborough to prevent my gods from dying. By stopping me, you have foiled my best plan in saving them, and they have been even worse off since then." She points to her hair-snake, which looks like it was carved from rough and chipped stone. "This is my link to them. When they were stronger, this would look whole and bright, like a real snake. But after going so long without belief..."
"I warned you about this," Raina cuts in without subtlety. "You're not the first priestess who tried to enter Gainesborough to gather belief for your gods, and I can tell you without a doubt that you won't be the last. You entered a realm where beasts are as real as people and you'll need a lot more than just a catchy slogan to get their attention."
"I am not sorry. They are as much of my family as my mother and father, and to see them pass away..." Sally trailed off, tears beginning to form in her eyes. One of them dropped in her tea, the noise shaking her, "Oh, I'm sorry."
"Hey, you got company!" Marley points out, "Gainesborough has a disproportionately high population of orphans, you're bound to meet company!" The factoid was met by Raina's cold stare. "What? It's true!"
"But it's not what she's asking." Raina points out. "What she needs is someone to believe in her." She stands up without warning and walks behind Sally. "Follow me. We're going to have a rematch. Marley, watch the tea." As soon as the grim owner departed, her guests finally reacted.
Sally could only sputter, the request taking her by surprise.

>>48360835
Marley, however, was used to the owner's abrupt plans. "The tea? You're talking about a rematch, and all you get me to do is the damn tea?" She doesn't disobey it, though. After setting up a match to cover the entire table with a warming halo, she also sets off to the Harriet estate's backyard, which is an empty rectangular field.

Raina and Sally are on opposite sides of the court, with Marley taking a seat on the bench. The red detective already tied a ribbon onto her pipe while grabbing her orbs.
"Why did you ask me here, Miss Raina?" Sally asks.
"Because I'm going to test your faith." Raina begins taking her stance. Her feet begin to part and her arms begin to take guard. "If you can't believe in yourself, what's the point of me believing in you?"
Sally picks up the idea pretty quickly. After a brief prayer, she manages to draw a quarterstaff from her coat. "I understand your intentions, Miss Raina! I am ready!"
"Three cards sound fine?" Sally nods and immediately, fantastic lights begin swirling around them.

This is the magic of Gainesborough, the realm of beasts and men. Within this place, the impossible and fantastic come to life, as do the monsters of myth. For those like Raina and Sally (and even Marley), they can tap into this logic and become able to wield magic through cards.
Raina is the first to present this power, as she erects multiple square barriers. Sally hops through the first before it finishes rising, but is trapped between them. From her sleeves fire slips of paper that pass through the barrier closest her, but instead of passing through, they instead appear through the inside of the outer barrier, assaulting Sally from behind. She barely evades the storm, and the detective's orb doesn't make it any easier, but after a tense minute filled with more paper than there is in the treasury, the barriers lower themselves.
"You dodged them well," Raina comments as she hops back, "but when were you going to hit me?"

>>48362608
Sally takes the cue and begins poking furiously with her quarterstaff, but Raina steps into the swing and blows smoke from the pipe, blinding them both. Sally takes this as the cue to summon her own power and suddenly, the sky begins raining down magic pellets like hail. Raina skips between the storm, keeping an eye to keep her distance from Sally. She throws her orbs into the eye of the storm, seeing if she can hit her rival, but the hail proves to be too effective a shield to penetrate. The instant the hail lets up, she fires again, but the orb is parried to the side by Sally's quarterstaff, to the detective's amusement. This round had Sally retain her offensive.

"Now we're getting into it!" Though Raina's face remained stony, her voice could convey her heated emotions.
Sally smiles as the two hold firm, gathering their breaths. "Thank you, Miss Raina!"
"We're not done yet!" As soon as Raina growls this, she pulls out another card and begins firing out spheres of darkness like pulses. Sally was easily able to dodge this all, but things got harder when streams of cards begin jutting forth in staggered patterns, stopping and approaching as if waiting to trace her patterns. The walls start going faster as Sally gets closer, and the orb begins firing. Sally parries the orb with ease and begins calling forth gusts of wind to push Raina off her feet. These gusts prevail and Raina has to flip out of the way. Before Sally could press the advantage of the wind, Raina begins rushing forward with her pipe armed as a stake.

They both stop with mere inches separating their weapons from each other.
Raina scoffs. "How about now?"
Sally withdraws for another poke, which Raina hops over and tries to sweep under, but Sally's staff propels her off the ground to dodge. Sally attempts an overhead swing, countered by an upward swipe by Raina's orb, both halt a hair's breadth short.
"I...I absolutely won't lose! Not for their sakes!" Sally shouts.

>>48363674
Raina drops her guard. "No need to get so uppity about it."
"But..." Sally is confused, but her grip's still solid. "Then, do you...?"
"You don't need me to believe in you," Raina begins walking away. "But...if you're so insistent on it, then I suppose..."
The confirmation made Sally's heart lighter than ever, and she falls onto Raina without even a second thought. "Thank you so much Miss Raina! Thank you thank you thank you!"
Raina, despite the statement, reciprocates little. "Off, will you? Marley, we're going inside!" The crook could only exclaim about it finally being over as they all went back for tea.

The tea was drunk in relative quiet, broken only when Sally asks, "Miss Raina, how do you get that strong? Who is it that you believe in?"
The detective takes a sip before pausing, as if to articulate her response. "It's not that I believe in someone or not." She then points to the window outside. "Perhaps it's more to say that I draw my faith from...believing in this entire realm."
Sally gasps. "Ah, I see! So you really don't mind praying with me?"
"I said yes, so stop pushing it." Raina sets down her tea. "Let's just get it over with."
After a quick prayer, Raina looks at the grandfather clock in the room, seated next to the closet where the teasets are stored. It was already past 11. "It's late. I'll help you to my room."
The green-haired guest stood up, "Oh, I would like that..." She collapsed suddenly after, captured by Raina's quick thinking. "Sorry, Miss Raina. It's embarrassing, but...I think my legs gave out on me!"
"Don't worry." Raina started trudging. "Marley, clean the place up."
"Oh, Marley, mind the tea! Marley, clean the room!" She imitated the detective's tone mockingly. "So when the hell can I be like that?" The stare again discouraged any thought of rebellion. "Fine! But only 'cause we're friends!"

True to her word, Raina led Sally to her room, which was rather stark despite being the master bed.

>>48364417
The bed was a basic set with a nightstand and lamp, on the side was a sofa and an overstuffed desk, and there was a walk-in closet filled with suits and dresses for whatever occasion the detective needed. For the occasion, Raina simply contented herself with setting her new friend on the sofa and draping her with a blanket.
But it didn't seem quite right. Raina tried to figure it out when she almost tripped over herself. It was sleep she was forgetting about. Thus inspired, she went to her bathroom, got washed up, and returned to her sofa wearing a pair of pink pajamas that seemed to have a picture of her orb copied on it. Rather than go to her bed, she decides to instead sit on the sofa with her guest and fall asleep there.

"Raina!" Marley calls out. "Raina, we done here?" She welcomes herself to Raina's room. "So, can I leave now - Oh me, oh my! Oh me, oh my!" She notices the two asleep together. "For such a gritty pain in the ass, you are so defenseless!" A bit of subtle tilting and the flash of a camera later, and she was gone with none the wiser.

The next morning, Raina and Sally wake up to find a note on the desk. In the note was a picture and a note.
>Couldn't miss the chance. Consider this payback for my help.
>Love, Marley
The picture, as it turned out, was one with Raina and Sally's faces turned towards each other to look like they were about to kiss. Needless to say, Raina was furious while Sally was again flustered.
"Why that double-crossing thieving witch...!" She immediately throws on a suit. "When I get my hands on her, I'll...!"

Despite all this, Sally Cornelia felt happy for the first time in a while. She now had friends to help with her struggle to save her gods. That alone meant everything to her.
As for Raina Harriet, she was just satisfied once she found Marley and exact a painful revenge. That and...well, Sally was a nice girl. Maybe she'd make a good partner someday...

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>>48367348
>bang
>boom

>>48354609
As I recall, it took a unique approach to a dusty old genre. Plus it wasn't terribly written. Those two things are an almost guaranteed win.

If you want a more in-depth analysis of your writing, you know what to do. ;)

>>48358777
>>48359205
>>48360835
>>48362608
>>48363674
>>48364417
>>48364956
interesting setting - I'd like to see more

>>48352979
The girl Johnathan shared the closet with was pretty in that her breasts were larger than her head kind of way.

The owner of the breasts had come up to Johnathan on the con floor and grabbed him by the hand. He thought about struggling when it occured but stopped when he saw the outfit she was wearing. She dragged him across the floor to a jainitorial closet in a hotel corridor and shoved him in when they got close.

The breasts occupied a large portion of Johnathan's point of view. They were in the perfect position for him to stare at and the girl was almost encouraging it in the way she pressed herself against him. He tried to look away, to look at the girl who dragged him in there but they always returned doward to contiue gazing upon greatness.

"Are you Johnathan Caleb?" The girl said.

They jiggled as she spoke. Johnathan quietly thanked the fact that he had chosen to go with the thick pans.

"You're the boxer right?"The girl contiued not noticing his line of sight. "I talked to your friend Alex and he said you were an imoperial outfit."

Johnathan jolted out of his staring by the mention of Alex. The image of his portly nutritionist popped in his head and using it he looked up at her.

"I'm John." Johnathan paused. "I box." he added.

The girl smiled. "Good, great." She hugged." Because I need you to punch someone for me."
The girls name was Anne. After the hug she let Johnathan out of the closet and led him to the food court. Over a burger and fries she explained exactly why she wanted him to punch someone.

Anne was, as far as Johnathan could infer from the speech she gave, a cosplayer from a group that Johnathan pretended to know about to be polite. She and her group were in town to advertise a game. They would dress up, try to encourage desperate teenagers to look at the product and someone was harassing them.

>>48381572
"I'm dressed as a dark elf." She said taking a sip of her coffee. "Sexy? Yes. But does this look like I want to be sexualized?"

Johnathan looked at her carefully. The short micro skirt. The cleavage. After muh deliberation he shook his head.

"Exactly." She said. "Except there's this asshole who's walking around and he points at us, and everytime he points at us our skirts flip up."

"He points at you and your skirt flips up?" Johnathan said. "How?"

"We don't know how."She said. "We just know he's doing it."

"What about security?"

"Fuck security. They're useless and the fuckers paying us to dress up like this aren't willing to pony up the cash to get us better ones." She slammed the coffee down. "The videos are apparently going viral."

Johnathan, in a part of him that was below could understand why.

"Alex said you're a decent boxer. You're fighting for an ametuer title in a couple of weeks I heard."

It was a world title, he would be fighting for in a couple of months. And he had been pro for about two years but Johnathan saw no reason to correct her.


"So I want you, to do me a favor."She said. She reached for his hands and grabbed." I want you to find him and punch him right in the fucking face."

She looked up at him hope swelling in her eyes, breasts swelling against the table and Johnathan said "No."

"Why not?"She said.

She said it with a tone of incredulity, as if the concept of Johnathan not punching a random person in the face was something so strange and surprising to her it was unimaginable.

"Why not?"

"Yeah!"

"Because I'm not going to punch a random bastard in the face because you're asking me to." Johnathan said. "You don't see the bizarness of that request? It might be bareknuckle but I could still break the bastard's jaw! Or kill him if he bonks his head on something."

"Alex said you would."Anne said.

>>48381597
"And that's another thing. Why would Alex say that?" Johnathan said."Why would he agree to something so utterly unbeliavably moron-"

Johnathan stopped speaking. He looked at Anne and she averted her eyes, looking down at her feet.

"You promised him a date." Johnathan said. "

Anne looked away, shame covering her face.

"Who is the poor girl you have doomed to such an experiance."

Anne, having run out of directions to look at reached for her fries and began to play with them. "An intern."

Johnathan sat back in his seat and swallowed the information.

The relationship between a fighter and his nutritionist was a special thing. It was men cooking for men and no greater bond could be born than the one made from such an action and the mental no homo that they uttered afterwards.

Alex's and Johnathan's bond went deeper through shared inability to attract normal women. A love for old British comic books and shows. Without Alex, Johnathan was a bloated cruiser weight. With him he was a mean lean light heavyweight. He was his friend.

"That guy really needs to start eating his own bloody diet."Johnathan muttered.

"What?"

"I'll do it." Johnathan said. "I'll punch this guy in the face."

Anne jumped out of her seat and started clapping. Attention was drawn, mostly male and Johnathan slunk into his jacket more.

"I'll tell the girls you'll do it right now."

"Wait,"Johnathan said "right now?"


The perv stood in front of a gaming booth, trying to be subtle in staring at the booth babe. He was older than Johnathan had expected. How much of it was makeup and prosthetics was up in the air.The wispy white beard looked real. The wizard robe and hat looked well made.

"There."Anne shoving Johnathan's shoulder. "Go hit him."

"He looks old."

"And?"

"Well,"Johnathan hestiated." I just thought he'd be a bit younger that's all."

"Are you not going to hit him?"

Anne stared up at him expectantly. Alex's face popped into his head and Johnathan sighed.

>>48381622
"I'll still hit him."

She smiled and hugged him again. After a moment she let go and backed away, leaving Johnathan alone in the con crowd.

Johnathan was a large man. He was even before he started training. He couldn't knock men out by accident but he hurt them bad. Along the ropes, in he middle of the ring. He was good at it.

The whole situation bothered Johnathan. The rate of esclation reminded him of the council estates, of the back and forth that would occur constantly. He had been told America was like that all around but the viciousness of its cosplayers surprised him.

He thought about not doing, then of the late nights where Alex would cook him healthy snacks to keep him on his diet. He exhaled and began to walk towards the wizard. The crowds parted on instinct, unknowing of his mission but knowing to move.

He would hit the wizard with the Mayweather right hand. Stinging but not hard. A black eye, a bruise but nothing serious.

The wizard looked up at him when Johnathan was only a few feet away. An array of emotions played over his face. Suspicion, confusion realization and terror flashed past in a second. He raised his hands, not with clenched fists oddly enough but with his hands outstretched and fingers splayed.

Johnathan circumvented the hands easily and slammed his right fist straight into the wizards chin. He felt flesh and bone compact and move, an odd touch of static and the world exploded.

>>48381572
>>48381597
>>48381622
>>48381646
I like where this is going, if you don't plan on stopping right at the moment of impact.

I don't do critical analyses of stories so much as simple pointing out of clerical errors. Check your spelling (after muh deliberation, experiance), spacing between punctuation ("Well,"Johnathan hesitated."), and punctuation usage. You like to use commas and I see a few useless floating quotation marks.

Perhaps describe more than what you have about the girl, the wizard, or the boxer. I do like how you introduced half as backstory with the nutritionist, but are they cohabiting? Random shit like that.

If you feel like finishing the next 30 seconds of real time after the punch, that would kick ass. I want to see what kind of explosion rocked the boxer's world after decking a mage.

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>>48378800
Fegelein!

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>>48384265
>muh Hitler Rants Parodies

"FEGELEIN, FEGELEIN! FEGELEIN!!!"

>>48337236
You come across six individuals. You ask them quietly who they are and one by one, from left to right they introduce themselves.

"My name's Robbie Ransacker. When tha zombies came, i started lootin', but my mates were eaten. Now i'm stuck with these guys. Guess they's at least good for survivin'."

"Name's Jessebelle. age 21, college student. Me and my sisters were having a party when all hell broke loose. Luckily my years of crossfit and aikido allowed me to get out of there in time. This group is a bit of a sausage fest, but it's good i guess."

"Anna. Homless. Streetsmarts. Stole the gun from a cop who arrested me. He's dead now. Usually alone. Not now. Need a group."

"Randal McDowell. My....my family was killed by the damn flesheaters. My colleagues, my friends, all of them dead. I was ready to just end it, when i saw these guys struggling with a small number of zombies. It sparked my savior's heart once more and i took up the axe and helped them. Now i am doing my best to see them safe."

"AAAAAAAH!!! SERGEANT ANTONIO RODRIQUEZ!!! MY SQUAD WAS SLAUGHTERED BY THEM AFTER WE WERE SENT HERE WITH MINIMAL INFORMATION!!! THESE GUYS FOLLOW ORDERS!!! THEY ARE GOOD SOLDIERS!! THEY ARE NOW MY CHILDREN!!! AAAAAH!!!"

The last one unenthusiasticly finally pipes in after his friends give him a few looks.

"Hi. My name is Thomas. I have a crowbar."

>>48385925
Dibs on this one. I have some shit to do today, so it will be a while

Czechfag here, best regards to everyone.
Send my submission to The Bard. Silly little tribute to much greater author, but we'll see what the Bard thinks. Maybe I'll whip up something else later. Wish me luck: I don't put much hopes in the Bard in general, but still - it's the first official submission of my work for any third party since I was in elementary school. No matter how insignificant I think the story is, nor do I have particularly high hopes in myself as a genre fiction writer, the few weeks wait will be trully nailbaiting.

>>48353571
Bard, in the unlikely case that you are still monitoring the thread: did I get that right when I understood that you'll be sending your feedback only between 17th and 21th of August, and I should not be expecting any feedback prior to those days?

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>>48386018
>THEY ARE GOOD SOLDIERS!! THEY ARE NOW MY CHILDREN!!! AAAAAH!!!
Kek

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>>48385274
"So, how is Captain Thule's state?" Asked Sargeant Cyrus.
"Stable, but he is still believing that I'm Captain Angelos." Informed Sargeant Thaddeus "He did say something worrying."
"What it was?!" Inquired Cyrus, while Sargeant Tarkus and Sargeant Avitus went quickly to learn what was going on.
"Well, he praised Brother Tarkus' actions in Angel Force, saying that the way he dealt with the Eldar witch was worthy of example, unlike, and I quote, 'That treacherous assassin from Kronus.'" Avitus relaxed and started to gliggle like a child while Tarkus facepalmed in a mix of horror and disgust. "I assume you know about it."
"Even I know about it and I wasn't there." Said Cyrus.
"This is not funny, Avitus. Brothers died for it." Interjected Tarkus.
"What happened?" Thaddeus asked, confused at seeing the unusual image of Avitus giggling and Tarkus trying to not explode in anger. Knowing the latter, it may had relation with Eldar.
"So, who will enlightend our young brother about it this time?" Asked Cyrus. "Take your time, I don't want to send my scouts to proctect our relics like the last time."
"I will do it." Informed Tarkus, returning at his more usual calm self. Avitus stopped laughing and Cyrus nodded in aproval, those Exitus rifles may have one more day at the service of the Emperor.

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>>48390832
So Tarkus started "At the start of the Kronus Crusade, Captain Thule wanted to avoid conflict with the Imperial Guard forces deployed there despite orders from our Chapter Master to purge all the forces from the planet. We quickly learned that the original reason of their presence was to capture a eldar witch who outsmarted them before."

"Our Captain thought that if we showed them how it was done, they would be put in their places and leave us alone." Added Avitus. "But instead, it started a race of 'who can catch the xeno first', we won of course."

"Their refuge possesed the typical trap of those treacherous scum, including using Orks and Heretics as distractions to weaken us. But Captain Thule proved himself as a worthy Force Commander, killing those distractions, rescuing our brothers trapped by them, defending our outspot of the eldar hit-and-run tactics and destroying their Webgates, cutting both their reinforcements and their means to escape."

"Now here is when things got weird. First, the witch went mad and instead of run away, she charged at our brothers at melee. Somehow she got away. Our Brother-Captain orderned to persue her and capture her, to know what she was doing in the planet, but instead we found guardsmen hiding inside the forest. Thule knew about it but told us to not open fire of them unless it was self-defence. Obviuosly the were hoping that the Eldar killed us and they would grab the glory or at least kill the bastards who evaded us."

"But then we lost contact with a squad of Scouts and other of Assault Marines, we went their last knew localitation and we found their fallen bodies with wounds coming from Imperial weapons. It conviced our Captian that we could not solve the conflict with Lukas Alexander without blood."

>>48383466
>I want to see what kind of explosion rocked the boxer's world after decking a mage.
I'm probably going to do that later on but not post it here or at least in this weeks thread because it would be too long to finish.

The idea I had for where it would go after the punch is that the wizard would have panicked and accidently taken everyone in the con with him in his bid to escape.

I have an astounding problem with punctuation. I'm reading Eats, Shoots, and Leaves because someone told me it helps but it's slow going.

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>>48391545
"A few days later, we found a lone human looking for our Headquarters, after being asked what he was doing there, he showed a rosette and presented himself as a Throne Agent of the Ordo Sicarius and he requested our help in deal with a case of high treason."

"Captain Thule, with the conpany of Chaplain Mikelus, Librarian Anteas and a few sergeants incluing us, was interrogated of what happened when we attacked the Eldar and if we managed to confirm the death of their Farseer. Once he got the answers he revealed what really happened."

"Before invading Kronus, Alexander requested the aid of the Officio Assassinorum because he knew his troops would fail him, and he got some Vindicares. The Agent's group was sent to look at them because someone back in Terra didn't feel like working for two hours and released a few assassins without proper mental training, and he suspected that Alexander got one of the defective ones. But before he could arrive at the planet, we already invaded the eldar stronghold, and little Lukas send one of them to off the Farseer before we got our hand of her. Guess who he sent to do the job?"

"Turns out, that the reason the witch wasn't still dead yet was because that Vindicare betrayed the Imperium and went to consort with the witch!. How in His name you defect to the Eldar?! One thing is defecting to the Tau, but Eldar?!"

"Safe to say, everyone present minus Thele and Anteas acted with fury at the betrayal, which assured the agent that we were proper subjects of the Imperium. He explained that Lukas Alexander tried to take them down, and his lack of sucess confirmed to our 'friend' that Kronus would be better at the hands of the Blood Ravens. He called the situation like 'a ork sniper acting unorky'"

>>48392749
"The bad news were that the agent discovered that his Inquisitor was a heretic who was using his position to sabotage Imperial operations around the sector, not even the Grey Knights were safe of his manipulations. That sure explained why I found one of them crying alone after a successful raid at an ork outpost without casualties."

"So we captured Pavonis, locking everyone else of a possible escape of Kronus, or so we thought. Victory Bay was also with ships ready to leave at the first order. Captain Thule had to make preparations of the invasion with the Agent and the Grey Knights, who wanted to avenge the insult of the heretics at their fallen brother. I was happy that we would finally show the Emperor's Wrath at those traitors."

"Unlike Avitus, I was more concerned about how the Eldar witch conviced the Vindicare to switch sides, the Agent knew of my inquires and he decided to answer them. The reality was that the rogue Inquisitor somehow learned about how weaken the minds of the assassins without losing their skill in battle, so they would not be easly killed by their defection, and the Vindicare was one of them. So you may ask, what was the reason he abandoned his soul to the foul enemies of man?"

Then Avitus started to laugh without control, while Tarkus and Cyrus were preparing at anything that can gone wrong once Avitus finished.

"He fell in love with the Eldar."

"WHAT?!" Thaddeus reacted like a proper Imperial subject should do.

"Yes, you heard me" Confirmed Avitus with glee "The assassin fell in love with the race with the creepy ears, who lies more often than your average Word Bearer and arrogant enough to disgard the square because it remind them of a Grox and a Squig."

There was silence, while Thaddeus tried to process the information. Sure, he once said that if the eldar wanted forgiveness from the sin of being xenos, they should starting to build shrines in the Emperor's honor, but someone willing going that far?

>>48393584
"So..." Thaddeus finally spoke. "...they were captured?"

"Thank the Emperor, yes we captured them" Said an relieved Tarkus "Not only we pacified the Imperial Guard in the assault at Victory Bay, the Agent with the aid of our brothers captured the traitor and the witch before they could escape. The Inquisitor instead was executed by Lukas Alexander himself, probaly after the latter learned about what we knew in his own methods."

"Then our Brother-Captain made a deal with the Agent, we get the witch for interrogations and the new Inquisitor got the traitor to make sure something like this would never happen again. He said that we had the eternal gratitude of the Ordo Sicarius and he would make sure that we weren't judged for heresy for the events in Kronus." Added Avitus.

"The witch well, she only confirmed what we already suspected, that the planet was also a Tomb World, then we executed her and continued with the purge. The assassin, I don't know but I hope he would be granted the Emperor's Mercy."

"Well, this was one interesting tale." Said Cyrus "But we better clear our heads, we will be out of the Warp in a few hours, and you know Force Commander Aramus like his forces always ready." So everyone went to their rooms to prepare whatever the "Hairetic" had planned for them.

But once inside, Cyrus started looking between the the photos he possesed, looking for one in particular until he found it.

The image of a guardsman in the disaster of Kaurava, looking at the bodies of some of Cyrus students, showing nothing but contempt at the fallen Astartes.

"One day, you will pay for your sins at the Emperor and my pupils, traitor" Swore Cyrus, then he began to pray.

>>48390832
>>48391545
>>48392749
>>48393584
>>48394497
>Uncle Avitus and Uncle Tarkus tell stories
The premise alone makes me giddy.

That said, you need to look over your grammar. It's messy.
The last scene with Cyrus kinda confuses me, mostly because it adds in something I don't think was mentioned at any point. It might have helped if you mentioned the circumstances - did this guy actually escape with the Chaos cults? Was Alexander and his men given an unconditional pardon for their actions? Was this a completely unrelated incident?

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>>48342506
pic is relevant

>>48387766
I'm afraid so. I know it's a long wait. Hopefully it will be worth it!

>>48385925
"Just one more patrol," he kept muttering to himself. Just one more patrol and he could convince his superiors that the touch of Chaos had left this corner of the galaxy. It would only take one more patrol.

Proof had to be turned in, too. He touched his Camara, a relic of Holy Terra, and reminded himself that only through the blessed Lens of Truth could the taint of evil be exposed. The most difficult thing he needed to worry about was getting a clear, still image of Chaos no longer infesting the minds and bodies of the locals.

It did bother him that he needed to provide proof of absence of Chaos. How was he supposed to show that nothing existed? How....no. No, that way lies treachery and the way to Chaos.

And then...a noise. Was that....giggling?

Perhaps there was something that he could prove by using the Camara. It should show that whatever is happening occurred under no outside influence. All that was needed was a simple, solid, clear, image.

After creeping past a bush, he saw what he needed. The Camara was readied, aimed, and then the blinding Light of Sincerity sent the image through the Lens of Truth. His duty done, the trooper turned back and continued his patrol.

"What was that?" asked one wood elf.
"I have no idea, but I don't think it matters now that he's gone.

>yes I know it sucks
>but why does it suck? let me know.

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>>48394886
Pardon mah english, iz not me first language. Also I don't notice the mistakes until is too late.
Here, a epilogue for clarity's sake.
>>48394497
Cyrus heard that tale a few times, and he didn't care about it outside its bizarre content, but one time, Avitus mentioned how the traitor Vindicare looked unmasked: Short black hair, sherp eyes, few scars in the forehead and the right cheek and two plugs for a connection with the machine spirits.

Then Cyrus felt the depts of his mind recognizing the figure, then wanting to know the reason he excused himself and went for the records of the Chapter. He searched for other traitors, heretics, Inquisitors, Adepts,etc, yet he could not find it until he went the records of his more hated moments.

Kaurava.

He didn't want to revive the folly of Indrick Boreale, but he felt the answer was in this black stain of the history of the Blood Ravens, so Cyrus opened the rescued archives and began to examine the intelligence gathered and went directly about the Kaurava Conservators.

Their Governor-General, their commissars, even their sergeants, yet no one matched with the description until he looked a image of the battle of Sama District.

A group of Guardsmen were hiding behind a wall protecting them of bolter fire, some of them lost their helmets, then suddenly Cyrus knew he found the source of his worries.

A soldier with short black hair, sharp eyes, cuts in the forehead and the right cheek and two stitchings in the former. Then Cyrus' mind acted at its own, showing him the full picture.

When the forces of Vance Stubbs almost arrived the fortress in the Lands of Solitude. Cyrus and his scouts were desperatly trying to destroy the growing morale of the enemy by hunting the commissars, the priests, the BONE'eads and the sergeants when suddenly he felt focused hellgun fire taking down his apprentices. He searched the Kaskrin squad responsible, but what he saw instead still surprises him to this day.

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This is some writefagging I did for my PF character, a Vigilante-Essentially a class that has both a social identity and a vigilante identity, kind of like batman. IT's supposed to be one of those documents that helps reveal backstory and flesh out the world, so let me know what you guys think. Also considering doing one from a criminal perspective and one from my guy himself.

A NOTICE TO THE CAST AND CREW OF VULTUR VOLANS THEATRE

From Managing Director Dogan

For centuries, our esteemed theatre has been intricately bound with the history of Thereos, tracing our origins to the carpenter Arvio Mul'Almset, who entertained the crew building our great city in the long hours of the nights, boasting a time-honored pedigree no other company could match. In the years since, we have expanded from a ramshackle stage open to wind and weather, to a monument of marble and silver, a glass edific that rivals even the Royal Palace itself. We have hosted kings, bishops, foreign dignitaries, and played to the hearts of the common people in a way that no one could match (Especially not those bastards over there in Armistice). Our floors have felt more honest tears than those of wedding halls, and our walls heard more fervent prayers than those of churches. Such effort would not be possible without the love and care of every single person here, transcending our cast from mere co-workers to a family beyond blood or oath.

It is on that note, that I must regretfully inform you of the death of one of our own. Ashraf Mul'Almset, descendant of Arvio Mul'Almset and the Esteemed Patron of the Vultur Volans, has passed away peacefully in his sleep, just last night, with the passing of the Hallowed Moon. Ashraf was dear to us all, and went beyond the level of patron. He was a friend, a helper, a confidante. Some of you may even remember the diligence in which he acted in 'Zabibe and the Flower' playing the author's Phantom of Arbaaz to perfection.
(1/2)

>>48396895
Indeed, Ashraf was a man of many talents, and without him, this theatre will not be the same. However, his son, Anwar Mul'Almset, has agreed to continue his family's venerated contribution, and so, we of the Vultur Volans will continue on.

Some of you may remember the boy from his youth, and his boorish attitude towards our esteemed art. On that, I am glad to announce that he has since grown into a fine young man, bold, and charmingly rakish. Just last week, he defended the honor of our theatre against Yusra Najjar and her ill-mannered crew from Armistice, boldly engaging them in a duel and single-handedly winning against such fearsome odds. Though he may not have the depth or solemnity of his father, his has value all his own, and thus, we gladly welcome him to our family as our newest Esteemed Patron of Vultur Volans.

Also, someone has been rampaging around the city, dressed as the Phantom of Arbaaz. I do not know who it is, but once I find out, he or she will be flensed for dirtying the name of such an acclaimed role. Moreover, support of this 'Phantom' and his actions should not be displayed as much as you all do. It is...unslightly.

Though I will begrudgingly admit his or her assassination of Durai Vajjar in the middle of Lion's Armistice has some shine.
(2/2, END)

And my guy is Anwar, and the 'Phantom of Arbaaz' is his vigilante identity. Should have clarified that at the start, sorry.

>>48357505
Irindel leaned against the tree, sighing contently as she listened to her younger sister and her friends. It was pleasent to hear her voice again after being apart for so long. She had signed on as a ranger for a craftworld army when the Mon'keigh tried to take the system for their corpse-Emperor. It had been a successful campaign, but fate would have it that they had to chase the Mon'keigh across most of the segmentum before they finally gave up, taking the better part of a decade to decide to do so. Afterwards she had no qualms of giving up the path of the outcast, firmly deciding that it was not for her.
Irindel was yanked out of her thoughts when her sister called her name, pointing at a figure in the distance. Irindel's keen eyes picked out the form of a Mon'keigh easily on the horizen, and as she began to gather her sister and her friends to flee back to the village, she was able to get a better view of the Mon'keigh. As Irindel scrutinized the Mon'keigh futher, her fear began to be replaced with curiosity.
What she had first taken to be a fresh, brutish Mon'keigh scouting for a second attack on her Exodite world turned to be something quite different. As the Mon'keigh came closer Irindel could make out several oddities of the Mon'keigh. Most noticeably, he walked with a heavy limp, and was using his rifle as a makeshift crutch. As he got closer still, Irindel could begin to scrutinize his uniform. Where Irindel could see it, in the gaps of his armor between the limbs and torso, it was faded and almost worn through, as if it had be used for years. Likewise, his armor was in similarly worn. Covered in scratches, the paint so worn in some places that she could see the metal of it gleaming dully. In fact, as she looked closer, Irindel could not actually see anything to identify where the Mon'keigh had come from it was so worn.
As the Mon'keigh continued on, Irindel snapped out of her trance, and motioned for the others to move behind

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>>48396269
A lone Guardsman was armed with the hellgun was picking the Scouts and Devastators apart, using the chaos of the battlefield to go unnoticed and when Cyrus had him at his sights, a big Orbital Bombardment in the fortress signed the end of the Kauravan Crusade and what was left of Boreale's sanity.

Quickly, put Cyrus orderned the survivors to retreat and pray the Emperor that His Hammer would show clemency at His Angels' foolishness, but he got caught in the blast and his last thoughts before losing conscience were cursing the names of Indrick Boreale and Azariah Kyras.

When the awareness returned to him, he saw the dead bodies of his brothers who couldn't escape the Jugdment at Boreale or the Wrath of the Baneblade. Then he saw a Tactical Marine struggling to move to somewhere safe until the both of them heard light footsteps from a lone man, the same man who killed the Neophytes.

Cyrus wanted to kill him, but he lost his left eye and he couldn't fell his arms moving, so he could only watch as how the human extracted the helmet of the Astartes, then he brought out a Commissar's Bolter and put it in the Marine's head.

The fallen brother only could say "Why?"

"Stubbs? You were in his way." Said the Guardsman "Me? You murdered someone dear." He added with a hint of sadness and frustation in his face, then he pulled the trigger.

Cyrus felt back to the present, he immediately went for the records from Kronus, hoping this was just a grim coincidence. But his fears were confirmed once he saw the images of the prisoners from Victory Bay.

It was him, the traitor Vindicare and the Guardsman who killed his apprentices were the same human. Somehow he escaped of the hands of the Inquisition, changed his identity, joined the Imperial Guard in Kaurava and aid them at the massacre of five companies of good men led by a imbecile. Was it a plot from the Ruinous Powers, the Emperor's Retribution or just twisted luck? Still today he doesn't know the answer.

>>48396979
>"No sister, don't tell me you're developing feelings for the human. Don't bother 'falling in love' with him, you are not like that farseer; what's her name? 'Tally?' 'Talissa?' Whatever, no love blooming for you sister!"

>>48396081
it doesn't suck, but i do have a question

why make the guardsman hunt for chaos so zealously, when the image has him saying "neat" like Bender? that, and his non-plussed reaction to the two Slaaneshi dryad whores looking "expectantly" at him? the tone seems off compared to what i get from the image.

>>48397604
It's not going to be that kind of story, don't worry. I was about to post the second half, but I fucked it up and now I have to restart, so I'll be posting the other half tomorrow. Fyi, it also won't end in memes either.

>>48397738
I wasn't aware they were slaaneshi, was posting from mobile and intermittently while the wife was conversing with me (which it's probably how I missed the bender reference), admittedly don't know much about the lore, and only really nailed down the fact that he was an imperial guard. It seemed to me like he was on an observation patrol, not on vacation, and it even seemed off to me that he was even taking pics and then fucked off to nowhere.

I had an alternate idea of telling it from the wood elf perspective but that went nowhere. I have almost zero knowledge of how to write from first person, so I gave it a shot from the soldier perspective.

Thanks for pointing all the details I missed out to me, though. I'll look more closely than I had for the next one.

>>48398016
>it will not be romance or inter-species bonding
Buh-but muh humanxalien fetish! Noooo... It'd be sooo much better if it were THAT type of story.

Just kiddin' incase you thought I was serious, but yeah. Good luck with completin' it thoo

>>48398267
well, i can't confirm the dryads are Slaaneshi. it follows logic they are though, seeing how they're in the 40kverse, are lezzing out, and WANT the guardsman to join in. also, seeing how this world seems verdant and lush, i can definitely see a death corp of krieg soldier (the regiment this guardsman belongs to) going on a vacation to such a "paradise". this follows comedic logic if you know about that regiment (they hail from a world where nukes and WWI style warfare has been the norm for 500+ years).

despite that, it was a decent piece i enjoyed reading. my only complaint was the tone, and that can be looked past.

>>48398828
Well shit...I need to double up on learning the 40k stuff.

thanks for the compliment, it was literally my first time posting in any story thread

>>48398828
>>48397738
Oh shit, there ARE words in those two panels!

I thought it was a blank mask expression as he turns to wander off, and the two girls are looking at him go "dafuq was that"

>>48385908
Everything had been building up to this moment. As far as they were concerned there wasn't another person in the entire world that could make them happier than they are right now.

They started as neighbors. He was the new kid on the street, hiding behind his mom's skirt jumping at every shadow. Despite this she was still drawn to him. There was a realness to him, he never hid what he was really feeling and was always mindful of what others felt.

Their first formal introduction was when she stole his bike. He crying echoed throughout the neighborhood the normally quiet neighborhood. She paused, she thought it'd make him chase after her, but all he did was sit there and cry.

She turned back smiled "Just kidding."

As she walked back up to him with the bike his mother comes outside.

"What happend? Are you ok?"

"Yeah mom, I fell of my bike and she helped me back up."

That was a long time ago. He has changed quite a bit since then. He went from the crybaby hiding behind mommy's skirt to the charming compassionate boy that she's grown to love.

>>48400742
dibs

>>48386018
Nice, but might I ask if this is a one post story, or will there be a continuation? I often get confused on wether stories are just a single post are still being continued without an indicator like; 'the end'.

But if there's gonna be a continuation I'd love to see like the POV protag being in some wacky high adventures with his new found friends.

>>48396269
>>48397282
>LIIVI escaped and disguised himself among the Kaurava mayhem.

This does clarify things. Thanks.
Now it makes me wonder how things pan out in Retribution.

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>>48401045
I already know how this is going to end.

>>48401688
>Chris Orksen
This ain't warhammer related: >>48401045

And who says its supposed to be /ss/? It could be drunk elf big sis being a drunken fool to human step-bro.

>>48352979
Holy shit, that request actually got filled?

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>>48401045
>>48401190
FEMALE ON MALE RAPE FOR SLAANESH

>>48400784
"Doc, keep your head down! Ace, I want suppressive fire on that position."

Joe Schultz was already way ahead of his sergeant. If he had been able to, he would have sunk into the mud and waited until the firefight was finished. He wasn't a coward. Even though he hated loud noises like the cacophony that was erupting about him, he had learned to function in it, even if he wasn't entirely at home with it. He was the platoon medic, and he had to tend to the wounded and dying in the field. It was his job to provide painkillers or the emperor's mercy.

At the same time he wanted to fight. This was a problem. He had been trained as a guardsman a long time before his healing talents had been discovered, and at times like this, his training kicked in involuntarily. Taking cover when the world around him slowed down in an adrenaline fueled haze was a bizarre experience that you could never get used to.

Suddenly he heard the shrill whistle. It was a command for an all out assault. The company was going to make an all or nothing push on the the xeno held positions. Doctrine said that the medical personnel remain with the rear and look for the wounded after the firefight was done, and he was waiting for it.
He waited and inhaled sharply as the smoke grenades were lobbed.
"Infantry, form up and take that position."
This new officer's voice was sharp as a bayonet. Sometimes they even believed their blood and glory routine. This one seemed like one.
Schultz watched as sergeant Shroff gave him a curt nod before charging over the trench, following the gallant fool. Joe prayed to the emperor that they come back alive, because he was the only man left behind in the command dug out for now.

He sat there in his haze for an eternity, twitching at the slightest noise and waiting for the whistle to call for medics. He looked at his chronometer again, barely believing that only an hour had passed.

A crash outside brought him to his senses. Something big had landed outside.

>>48367348
If there was anything going through Sir Alistair du Miran's mind as the metal wagon roared to life, growling out a noise that rivaled the squeal of a fire belching boar, they would be words. A few fine picked words for a very special woman in his life.

"Audrey, you beautiful grease smeared bitch, I love you."

The rumbling of the engine rattled him to his core, in a good way. Never had he ridden such an engine and more than likely will never ride anything to match its magnificence. No magical glamour compelled this metal beast, but a physical, chemical science that is wholly human. For a reason the knight could put into words, that made it all the more special. Wild hooting shot from his lips, the discipline of decades of warring making way for an excitement like the touch of his first lover. Cavalry parted ranks to make way for their commander, not one bothering trying to keep pace. He was almost leagues ahead of his army, barreling right for the panicking orcish hordes.

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>>48401776

>>48375607
For the sake of worldbuilding/keeping the thread alive for a bit, why the hell not?

>On the Nature of Gainesborough
The first thing that should be said about Gainesborough is that you can't find it on any map. Not to say there aren't any maps about Gainesborough, but you can never reliably find a way to get in and out of it. That ability's only reserved to the Walker Between Worlds. All you need to know about her is that she's practically God here.
That is mostly due to its nature as a place of myth, where gods and beasts long-thought forgotten walk amongst common folk in the street. For the most part the commoners and mythical folk get along, though they don't necessarily act chummy. Not like most people wouldn't mind sharing a pint with a minotaur with fists the size of your head. Any extreme racism has been largely filtered out thanks to the Harriet Agency's intervention in years past, so there's not much in the way of hate crimes. Doesn't mean there aren't those murders that happen because some mean beast was out for a midnight snack or because some idiot forgot about trigger discipline.
That said, the purpose of Gainesborough is more for the sake of the myths than the men. Over the years, there are species that are hunted by blind fanatics, devastated by climate upheavals, religions and gods forgotten as civilizations die. This realm is considered something of a last home for them. Some of these groups die here despite our efforts, but most manage to survive where the outside world would have driven them to extinction. Some species even thrive enough to return to the world beyond. The rest, though, are warded in by the Barrier, a...well, barrier that locks in the fantastic and renders it invisible to the world at large. Most times it works, but in those cases that it fails, I have to go make sure nobody breaks through. The only thing that ever went through me willingly or otherwise was a certain big hairy chap who never wore shoes.

>>48410006
>On the Harriet Agency
Despite being called an agency, the only person who works here is me.
Despite being the only employee in the Agency, I am not my own boss. That privilege belongs to a certain dubiously-existent entity known only as the Walker Between Worlds.

Apparently, the Harriet Agency has been around as long as there has been a Gainesborough. That means that I'm far from the first to manage this place, though from the way it looks, there definitely used to be more people living here. Even when my parents lived here, there were more people. Kinda sad to think I'm the last person here.
The purpose of the Harriet Agency is to maintain order in Gainesborough. Due to some quirk in out genetics or maybe a pact with the world itself, the Harriet bloodline's able to draw its power from the realm of Gainesborough itself. It's not quite like being a cleric, but in previous generations we practically were. We don't exactly gain any fantastic powers besides just flying and magic, but we have a battery that virtually never runs out. When things get to the line, then we can even bend that barrier to surround us as well, making us almost immaterial. This also means that we have to watch the Barrier and make sure the place doesn't get ruined by our own irresponsibility.
Our second job is to maintain the harmony between humans and monsters. Now we don't believe in the whole "Holding hands while singing Kumbayah" nonsense. Honestly, that's stupid. Impossible. So instead, we opt with "Nobody causes any trouble, I don't bust anyone over the head with diplomacy". Works rather admirably at scaring people to compliance. Course, it doesn't make me any friends on either end, but if I wanted to make friends, I'd be a talk-show host or a news reporter like that meddlesome crow. Meanwhile, let me actually solve issues threatening the people of Gainesborough in the way I'm used to it.

>>48411555
>Marley Karlsson: Friend, Foe, or...?
Liar. Cad. Thief.
The only thing Marley Karlsson doesn't confess to is being a bully, and that alone makes her at least capable of turning a new leaf. Maybe.

The first time I met her was a long time ago, when I was still a kid. Marley was part of a witch coven that worshipped a pagan god known as Mimagaia. Apparently, my grandparents sealed her away in an old part of the Agency with their souls, and I only learned about it after they let the god out so she could continue her nihilistic agenda. I had to seal away Mimagaia's powers and banish her from the agency, and only learned after the fact that Marley was the culprit.
I eventually chased her down in during the cleanup efforts. I learned at that time that she was getting rather disenchanted with the coven's views. I let her tag along just because doing it all alone was a pain, and somewhere along the line, we...well, we just became what we are now. I can't exactly call such an unsavory character a friend, and she's never around to work as a partner.

Actually, I shouldn't be so harsh. Despite everything I say, Marley is a repository of strange talents and wisdom that I kind of owe her my life at least once. You need a contact? She knows them and their friends. You need an item? She'll haggle it from a merchant at half the asking price. Needless to say, having such a handy bin is helpful.
It's also kind of hard to figure out how to set her straight without ruining her usefulness. The only reason she knows so much was because she looked through so many legal and illegal materials. She's experimented with so many magical methods that she got arrogant enough to think she could make her own course - and got banned from every university in the world as a result from it.

She's also been nice enough to put up with me when I get in my moods. Not something you find in most folks, and if she committed to working with me...

No. Not while I still have my pride.

>>48412215
>On the Counts Crimsone (A Case Study)
Once, there was a legend about some insane king named Vlad Tepes.
Apparently, this led to a book about vampires, and eventually that led to a castle suddenly appearing in the middle of Gainesborough's haunted forest.

Then a red fog just...appeared. People were panicking, thinking some death god was out to kill them. Of course, they hired me to get to the bottom of it, and I dragged Marley along to help. We cleared a swath of the forest, found out that the owners had a pet dragon for a gatekeeper, and they enslaved forest sprites to be maids. Oh, and they had another witch and a maid who seemed to stop time. I think Marley found someone new to suck dry, the damn parasite.

The truth to the whole affair was that the owners of this estate, the Counts Ramille and Florence Crimsone, were rather spoiled cousins of Tepes. Could hardly blame them, they didn't really understand much of poor Vlad's plans for bloodshed. After giving them the good old Harriet Welcoming Smack, they confessed as much. They promised to knock it off, but all in all, they seem like a rather nice group.
As it turns out, their resemblance to that book is rather uncanny, if only in certain parts. The older sister, Ramille, was charming, seductive, and social. She could talk a fool into selling their soul. The little sister, Florence, was a savage, capable of embracing the wrath of animal and killing without remorse.

Nowadays, the Estate Crimsone remains as foreboding, but it seems to be a bit less...desolate. That dragon I mentioned? Seems to enjoy the company of the sprites and other critters that infest the forest. They look up to it like a mom. The wizard I mentioned gained a case of the Marleys, and as for the Count Ramille? Apparently, she's...persistent. She tends to visit for tea, asks me to serve her as a personal agent. I keep turning her down, but it never dampens her spirits.

>>48413299
I've asked about her maid, but the Count seems to never talk about it. Makes me wonder what it is that she's hiding. An envy for mortals? Forbidden master/servant romance? Personal vow? To her credit, I've never been able to narrow it down.

Now Count Florence is a more unique issue, in that she's locked away most times. Apparently, she drank some inhuman blood in the past, and that somehow corrupted her body and drove her mad with bloodlust. Apparently, there's no cure for it, and now she's forced down there so she doesn't accidentally kill someone. From what I saw, it was pitiful. If I could bring myself to even think of it, I would even consider putting her out of her misery if she proves unstoppable. However, as long as her sister or the dragon appear, she seems to be happy enough. Marley tries to steer clear of the poor kid too, mentioning something about "It was only once" when I ask. Could prove to be some good dirt.

>On Gainesborough's Deities
As mentioned, Gainesborough has many gods and the like among its population, I think over 800 at the last census. These gods usually come here in hopes of gathering faith for themselves, as faith is required for their survival. Without faith, those gods become forgotten for good. It's a strange thing that. I tried asking the Walker about it, but never got an answer.
Considering that there are only 800-ish gods for at least a few couple tens of thousands of people both normal and not, there's bound to be friction based on territory and doctrine. The Harriet Agency, back in the early days, made a law that somewhat says that no god can ever be greater than any other. Any further conflicts can be settled via spellcard duels. This agreement also meant that the Barrier would be protected, as some of that faith would feed back to Gainesborough. It feeds back to me, yes. No, this doesn't mean I want to hear all those traveling prophets.

I never really thought that highly about religion anyways.

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Sorry guys if thats not what this thread is really for, but the (admittedly VERY tiny) story i wrote about my Blackshields does get basically ignored on the /hhg/, so i thought i go here for feedback

>>48413618
>On the Author
>>Name?
Raina Moirah Harriet.
>>Age?
19.
>>Job?
Paranormal Investigator
>>Interests?
Tea, classical literature, candles
>>Anything you dislike?
Annoying people, incompetent people, interruptions.
>>What do you look for in a person?
I look for their personality, their likelihood to commit a crime, how much they can afford for my services.
>>Are you looking for a man or a woman?
I don't really...wait. This isn't a questionnaire, it's a dating profile! Damn crow's trying to put me up on the market when I said not to. I ought to show her what for...

And this is all I have for things to write.

>>48410006
>>48411555
>>48412215
>>48413299
>>48413618
>>48417869
good stuff

>>48395180
>I'm afraid so. I know it's a long wait. Hopefully it will be worth it!
Thanks, I appreciate the reply. Good to know that I should not entertain false hope. I'll see what you think in a month or so. Until then, best of luck.

>>48415885
Grammar's all over the place, but it's rather intriguing to see their motivations.

A curious note, but that curse seems almost identical to what happened to the Crimson Slaughter...

>>48352707

"Come with us young man."

"Yes! Yes! We have everything a ssssstrapping young man like you could need on our ssssspace sship."

"Squeeee!" squealed the little one.

"Ummm...."

"Come boy, let it out. Tell usss, what, you desssire...."

"No, that's okay. I ought to be getting home now.'

The green one hissed.

"What? We have sssssoooo much to ssshow you."

The purple one leaned in and whispered an obscene suggestion in his ear.

"Well, that sounds like fun, but, I've got to pass. Have a nice flight home!"

"But WHY?" squeaked the tiny one.

"Because you're creepy!" the farmhand yelled back. "I mean look at you! You're all covered in some kind of glisteny slime. Your faces are weird; your mouths are too small, your eyebrows are all wrong, your ears look glued on. You're striking these unnatural poses. You just offered me a blowjob but you have FANGS.

"And what's with those markings on your skin? Are they supposed to be birthmarks or tattoos or what? They look sprayed on. And those ghetto press-on nails? They don't make you look exotic, they make you look cheap.

"I'm sorry ladies, but you're not my type."

The purple one leaned in again.

"We also do anal."

"Well alrighty then, let's get to that ship."

>>48417071
The rallies for the Deity-General Trump's three-thousandth election / apotheosis was a special affair. His annointed running mate Ixtlipol Mannafort-Gingrich, raised his arms before the adoring clone-drones. At the end of four years he would be sacrificed, nibbled to death by hate beetles to expiate his sin of beholding the Trump with his own human eyes and ensure good crops.

'Yuuuuuuge!' the Veep chanted, arms outspread. 'USA! USA!' chanted the drones.

Somewhere in a distand dungeon the immortal man-murid hybried Creuze fumed. "This is NOT small-government conservatism," he squeaked.

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>>48421959
Something Trump should reconsider is alienating people he'll need for support if he takes office. Cruz is still going to be in the Senate for a few more years, and he's been pretty effective at blocking legislation. Remember the whole government shutdown back in 2013? Cruz was the ringleader. Now I don't know how many other Republican Senators support Trump right now, but I know Cruz has a reputation as a human wall. If Trump wants to get his policies through Congress, he should make friends with the people who can block him, like Cruz, but he's made it personal with Cruz.

>>48407476
This was unexpected. Their company had been running low on armor, and every leman russ they had had been sent to the reserves for more priority reinforcements.
No, this meant only one thing. This was not on of theirs. Yet, the whistle had not been sounded. If he ran out and got shot, it would be an anticlimatic way to end his existence. Schultz had been a medic for four years and had saved more people than he cared to recount. He had to follow procedure. It saved lives and protected him from harm.

As soon as he had resolved to stay put in his bunker, Schultz heard a faint tapping. Tap Tap Tap, Tap Tap Tap came the sound. It sounded like someone was knocking on a door. Joe grabbed a bottle of the disinfectant and took a swig. It wasn't strictly healthy, but it provided that little bit of liquid courage that a field medic sometimes needed. If the tapping sound came again, he would go out and investigate. Otherwise he was going to stay put and drink some more of the liquid.

He listened for an awfully long span of 5 minutes which seemed like a year, and just as he was about to sit down again, he heard the tapping a second time. Just to help himself, he took a second, longer swig, almost retched and headed out.

It was still dark outside, and Schultz' view of the surroundings was marred by the charred wreck in front of him. It was shaped like an elegant ship, not the blocky and angular shape of a valkyrie or the functional rectangular of troop dropships, but a sinuous curved figure, as though it was a prow of a battleship. shaped like an aquila.

He could hear the tapping coming from the rear of the vehicle. What seemed like a hatch was partly opened and a pale hand was sticking out of it.

Acting on instinct, he opened the hatch pulled the person out. The person was lighter than he expected and the two of them tumbled down together into the dugout. A woman, impossibly beautiful, looked straight at him, her emerald eyes shining with fear.

>>48423034
He nearly yelled out. The woman looked at him for a few more seconds, before she started to cough. If she had been stuck inside that burning wreck, she might have swallowed a lot of smoke. She needed to get her lungs cleared before her breathing got worse.
"Listen to me, I am going to need to clear your lungs out. It shouldn't take too long. We are going to take a short trip to the dugout and will get you patched up."

Strangely the woman stared at him with what seemed to him like increasing alarm and muttered something incomprehensible. He must have drunk a lot more than he thought. Schultz prayed that the new Officer would not find him nursing a hangover. He was pretty confident in his medical skills but standards had to be maintained. The woman twisted and tried to turn away from him. He grabbed her wrist and began to drag her towards the dugout and the medical facility. What happened next shocked him.

Displaying an acrobatic ability that would have been called phenomenal, she jumped an incredible distance in the air and spun around to kick him. She missed him, but only just. After this improvised attack, she began coughing again and doubled over, looking like she was going to faint.

Schultz shrugged and carried her back to the dugout, noticing that her armor was unlike anything else he had seen before. It looked as though it was made of polished bone. He filed that oddity away for future reference and began talking to himself. It helped him work and often drowned out the screams of the wounded and dying.

"Alright, pressure on the chest to expunge any remaining gas, a full cursury examination to see any other external damage, and the subject should be free to convalesce at their own rest, recommend a dose of painkillers or alcohol to deal with resultant pain."

As he was saying that, he was opening her armor. He noticed almost cursorily that the woman was wearing a skin tight suit that left very little to his imagination.

>>48423484
Schultz shrugged and cracked his knuckles. He opened her suit began kneading her chest to force out the smoke from her lungs. He was rewarded after a few seconds when the woman began to cough and splutter. She made ready to sit up and Schultz gave her a towel to preserve her modesty, and a bottle of water to help her feel better..

Clean water was somewhat of a rarity at the front lines, and Schultz had always had to ration it to clean wounds and bandages. Still it would help clear her throat. He noticed her pale fingers, immaculately manicured grab his wrist as he offered her the water. Her eyes were focused on him, and he saw suspicion, and curiosity in those vivid green pools.

"Drink" He pushed the bottle into her hand. She stared at it, and then stared at him again. He made a sign for her to drink it. Maybe she wasn't that conversant with low gothic. Several feudal worlders didn't speak gothic at all, he knew from his service as a medical professional. This girl seemed to be one of them. She stared at him for a second, then slowly raised the bottle and took a small sip, as though seeing if it was poisoned.

"What? Its just distilled water. I keep the piss samples in the other container." He smiled at his own joke.

The smile did wonders. She took a bigger gulp and then drained the entire thing in a long swig. Then she gave the bottle back to him and nudged him a little. She smiled back a little as she handed the bottle back to him.

Schultz noticed for the first time in the better lighting of the room how utterly beautiful she looked, her skin was positively flawless, and looked as though it was made of porcelain. Her lips were as red as his medical armband, and her dark hair fell around her head in a perfect bedroom tousle. She looked like she had gotten up from a deep night's sleep. And her ears...

Holy Terra, her ears! Schultz silently cursed himself and swore never to drink again.

>>48423785
Her ears were long and tapered and left no doubt to what she was. To the rapidly sobering Joe, everything began falling into place. That preternatural agility, the fear in her eyes, the beautiful burning wreck. She was one of the eldar, and he and saved her life and used medical supplies on her. He gave a welp as she stood up and dropped her towel.

She was perfect in every way whatsover. She blushed a little as she scrambled to put the tower over her and looked away. Schultz couldn't bear to look at her anymore. He wanted to, but he was also afraid of what was going to happen.

He took a deep breath. Maybe she would be gone. Maybe he was dreaming. He slowly turned to see behind him and saw her. The eldar was looking back at him the same way, her face blushing with a pretty shade of pink. She still had the towel to her front which gave Schultz a perfect view of her back side. She was as flawless from the back as she was from the front.

Then awkwardly, their eyes met for a moment. She managed a shy smile, and Schultz felt his muscles twitch as he smiled back in return

and done.

please respond.

>>48423952
Respond to what?

>>48423952
>>48424295
yeah, kind of helps if you mention what you want a response to.

anyway, don't get discouraged because no one replies right away. these threads can be pretty slow.

>>48422126
Either way, the USA will have it hard in the next years.
>Notices Trump's crotch.
Not literally I hope.

>>48424431
The thing that I wrote
>>48407476

Davy walked a oath he had walked several times before, it was a path through the forests that deer had made and it lead to a small pond fed by the waters from the mountain.
Davy was middle aged, the sun had aged him over the years of constantly being outside tending to his forest. Davy had established himself as the local druid over a decade ago. He tended to the forest, did favors for the locals in exchange for their tolerance, and spent most of his time tripping on mushrooms in the forest trying to find new nature magicks. Davy had always felt a strong connection with the earth. With dedication and a large amount of hallucinogenics he sharpened his connection with the earth and could perform spells to manipulate nature itself. All druids were this way, though most commune with nature through meditation, pain, or physical trials such as fasting. Davy found his connection the odd way.
Davy had always been a bit odd.
Davy walked this path because today was a special day. The pond had a powerful connection to the forces that drive nature. Once a year Davy would go to this pond and attempt to commune with nature. Every year he would only catch glimpses of its glory. Nature was so overwhelming and absolute that perceiving it fully was only capable by the Arch-Druid; The oldest living druid. In all of the carvings on the ancient trees there were only 4 Arch-Druids ever recorded. The mantle passes down to the next oldest Druid once the previous Arch passes.
Davy gripped his bag of mushrooms and herbs excitedly. It was his best crop yet and the energy of his forest was intense on this particular night. The animals were active and the trees rustled excitedly in the wind. Davy could see the strings of nature magic moving up from the ground and feeding the life around him. He loved this forest.
>Cont

Davy smiles as the path opens up into the pond. The trickle of the water into the creek calm his excitement. There's a stillness here that originally clued Davy into the nature of this place. A Nexus for nature energy. A path into the magick of the earth.
Davy sits by the water and looks at the pond with a slight smile. With a wave of his hand the water stops and the water freezes in place. He gazes at his reflection. He was sun scarred. Deep lines ran into his face despite his relatively young age. His brown hair was long. He would cut it occasionally when it started getting down to his shoulders. Davy didn't much care about his appearance. Not a whole lot of druids did from his sense of things
He looked into the unnaturally still pool and began to eat from his satchel of hallucinogens. Slowly at first with a pious demeanor, then he at them greedily.as his excitement overtook him.
He felt the world go still. Things became silent as the breeze died. The thousand calls of night birds and bugs all stopped simultaneously. Davy's irises widened as his perception opened up. Davy lowers his hands into the pond and the water begins to glow blue and lights up the forest around them. The trees begin to lean in towards the light as Davy exhales and connects with nature.
All he sees is light.
It is without shape. Davy only feels as if the light of the sunniest day is covering him from head to toe. He feels the ancient earth magicks moving around him. Helping life grow. Davy begins to notice something. A large surge of the magicks. The pond light grows brighter and the plants around Davy begin to explode with growth, begining to grow completely over the pond and creating a new canopy blocking out all extrior light. The energy nearly makes Davy lose concentration and lose his connection with the spell. He begins to sweat as he desperately clings to the plain his mind has entered. Something powerful was trying to communicate with him. Davy had gotten something's attention.

>>48429897
Her voice was all of the birds singing
Her skin was rugged bark and the purest of soils
Her presence was that off life.
Davy could feel her love of every living thing. Davy could feel every living thing loving her. Every mouse, deer, squirrel and tree sang her praises. She was also death and re-life. Loss and grief. Davy could hardly keep a hold on the plain he was communicating with. Her presence threatened to swallow his consciousness and disperse him throughout all of nature.
Davy debated whether or not that was a good way to go.
"Davy"
Her voice was soft like the babble of a creek
"Yes?" Davy thought. Struggling in her brilliance
"I am Gaia." Birds sang triumphantly
"That's impossible"
Trees sprouted up and cradled Davy he opened his eyes and saw the magicks flying around him. Pure magick. Earth magic he had never encountered before
"You are too young for this Davy" the trees caressed him gently.
Her voice resounded from every corner of his forest. The whole of nature was speaking to him. "But I need your help"
A vision entered his head. An elf with a tan complexion working at a desk. Scrolls upon scrolls of drawings around him. He was writing furiously.
"Davy, this man seeks to end me. And he may soon be able too"
"That's impossible" Davy couldn't find any words
"No Davy, his metal men take entire forest in a day. He has done something to the other druids, I can no longer feel their life force Davy. You are the only one who has communed with nature all year." Her voice shook the earth around him.
"So that means that.." the impossible thought hit his mind but would not exit Davy's lips.
"Yes Davy. You are the Arch-Druid. You are the last Druid" her voice became pleading.
"Find this man, I can already feel my ties to this plane weakening. If he succeeds life with die here. It will be nothing but sand and death"
Davy is lowered to the ground
"Leave here, find this man. Stop his machine"
>Cont

Davy felt reality snap back as Gaia's presence slipped away. The plants had grown into a thicket surrounding the whole pond. Davy looked around quizzically.
He couldn't believe it. Davy had just become the youngest Arch-Druid in the history of the craft.
He sat there dumbstruck until morning


Sorry for the short last post- word limit is a bitch. This is all I have so far.

>>48430053
pretty good anon.

>>48407476
>>48423034
>>48423484
>>48423785
>>48423911
>>48423952
It's an okay story. Although 'Joe Schultz' doesn't seem like a very 40k sort of name
>Ibram Gaunt
>Ciaphas Cain
>Gregor Eisenhorn
>Gideon Ravenor

>He gave a welp as she stood up and dropped her towel.
I'm guessing you probably meant 'yelp' here.

>>48431166
yeah, it was a typo. I was drunk when I started writing names.

In a galaxy full of names, everything doesn't have to sound like a MMO character.

>>48431180
>>48431166
also, to add. Any suggestions?

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>>48400742
>>48407476
>>48423034
>>48423484
>>48423785
>>48423911
Aww how cute, goes to show humans and space elves can be friendly towards to each other and are simply best off fucking each others brains out in the end.

>>48431191
>Any suggestions?
Yeah I have: AND THEN THEY BOTH FUCKED! ... Not before the human and the eldar hold hands of course!

>>48431387
you really want me to continue with this?

>>48431482
... Nah was just kiddin' around... But if you're up for it and would make it into that; hyoman and eldar start developing feelings, holding hands and do the frick-frack. Then that's up to you buddy.

>>48431180
>>48431191
the best guide I can give to picking names for 40k is to think of a name, and then think what it might sound like after forty thousand years of linguistic drift. e.g

>joe schultz
becomes
>Josihas Zult

>also, to add. Any suggestions?
not really. It's okay for what it's trying to do. And I think you ended it in the right place.

>>48431166
I don't see whats wrong with a regular sounding human name like Joe Schultz not being a good name for a human in Warhammer 40K. Because I believe humans in wh40k who have regular sounding names are likely, or just simply Earth/Terran born humans.

>>48431537
40k years of language development might as well turn Joe Schultz into Ooga Booger.

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>>48431532
a different story then. And one that uses this pic

>>48295007
You see them sometimes. Silent and dapper, always carrying a briefcase. So different from their brethren.

A gas mask sits over where the face would be on a normal person. The red lenses are the only spot of color on their bodies.

They don't fight like the hordes do. They simply lead them like a parade, tracking their quarry patiently. Their crows swarm around them occasionally, going high into the air to find you. Killing them slows it down, lets you escape their implacable advance. You've seen what happens when they corner somebody. They don't participate in the killing, they just watch and wait until it's done.

You pulled the mask off a dead one once. It had taken almost a dozen bullets before it went down. It didn't try to run away or fight back. It just stared at you until it crumpled to the ground. Beneath that mask was nothing. Just smooth black material that mimicked human skin. It had no eyes, no mouth, no ears, no nose. It had nothing in its briefcase.

Now whenever one of them notices you, they seem almost animated. They straighten their perfect suits, readjust the grip on their briefcase, and seem to move just a little faster to find you.

>>48431708
>TigerCrew.jpg
wut.

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>>48432231

>>48432231
its a knocked out m4c.

>>48431708
>>48431532

I am going to write a waifu story lads.

>>48293267
HE'S GOT A SWORD

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>page 9

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Bamp for the lulz need more stories

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>>48437805
>>48439065
the thread generally only needs a bump once every two hours to stop it from falling off the board. Less than that in the morning

>>48417071
As the earth falls into mayhem
>May mighty ones rise
As the mighty souls come forth
>Will the Jaws of Death emerge
All souls return to the Jaws of Death
>In their grip may all become one

These prayers were found in a manuscript my investigation team found in an Aztec ruin. From what we could tell, this was a temple for some cult that repeatedly mentions these "Jaws of Death."

The Hernan Foundation has more information about it. This temple was supposedly one for a certain divergent cult. Little's known about it, but we know that their focus wasn't on their present, but on the future. From what there is, they wrote about a time when the sun itself would be devoured (coinciding with the end of the Aztec Calendar) and the world would be thrown into chaos.
According to legend, when last this happened, some warrior god emerged from the mud and many warriors were sacrificed to feed it. Powered by their souls, the world was preserved from whatever armageddon that would have befallen it. Of course, the writings never explained how this happened or whether or not this was normal. Even more unsettling, there was an excerpt about a leader being sacrificed.

There was also some talk among the news about some guy sharing a few details with these same scriptures. Kinda scary how these things mirror modern day. It'd be even scarier if the sun went out too. Maybe those rumors could much worse than we thought.

Decided to continue an old series that I lost interest in a while ago.

>>48437805
>Excerpt from "The World Outside Our Doors: Your Guide To The Wasteland And All Its Horrors" requested
>Outputing Document Designate: Dwarves

We here are Baelfire Enterprises would like to remind all residents of Baelfire Peaks and its sister Arks that Baelfire Enterprises are the rightful owners of the underground habitats you all call home. We mention this because if you ever see men about the size of your average ten-year-old with hideously overlong beards and fists like hams skulking about the premises, you are to notify the nearest available Security Construct of their presence immediately.

By no means are you to listen to their insidious lies that the Arks were forcibly coerced out of their possession by Imperial knight brigades in conjunction with Baelfire Enterprises constructs. Baelfire Enterprises bought these former mines and beer halls fair and square, as you can plainly see in the Baelfire Enterprises bookkeeping records and absolutely nowhere else. Furthermore the Dwarves were relocated to absolute luxury homes and most definitely NOT barren slagheaps bristling with Ultraspell fallout.

What we're getting at here is that Dwarves are basically one tiny baby step above Elves when it comes to trustworthiness, only instead of using spells and longbows, they swing axes and hammers. Thankfully they're very short with stubby useless legs, so if you have been attending your Baelfire Enterprises complementary fitness classes, you should be fine to heroically flee and hide behind the nearest security construct.

ADDENDUM: In no way have Dwarves risen to prominence on the surface. Dwarves do NOT control multiple settlements and are NOT working in collusion with Orc gangs to cobble together civilization. The very notion is ridiculous. Remember: You can't spell Civilization without Civil, and Dwarves and Orcs are anything but.

>>48429793
>>48429897
>>48430034
>>48430053
Can I get some suggestions on this? Am I representing DnD druids well? Is my writing shit?

>>48429793
>>48429897
>>48430034
>>48430053
>>48451594
I don't play D&D so I have no idea whether you've written a good D&D druid. As for the writing itself, it's not terrible but it could use improvement. First of all, presentation is important. I'd tidy up the paragraphs and make sure things are spaced better. As for the style - take a look at how I'd edit your first few paragraphs as an example.

>

Davy walked an oath (path?) he had walked several times before. It was a path through the forests that deer had made and it lead to a small pond fed by the waters from the mountain.

Davy was middle aged, and over the years of constantly being outside tending to his forest the sun had aged him further. He had established himself as the local druid over a decade ago - he tended to the forest, and did favors for the locals in exchange for their tolerance. Most of his time, however, he spent trying to find new nature magicks by tripping on mushrooms in the forest . Davy had always felt a strong connection with the earth. With dedication, and a large amount of hallucinogenics, he sharpened his connection with the earth. He could now perform spells to manipulate nature itself. All druids were this way, though most commune with nature through meditation, pain, or physical trials such as fasting. Davy found his connection the odd way.

Davy had always been a bit odd.

Davy walked this path because today was a special day. The pond had a powerful connection to the forces that drive nature. Once a year he would go to this pond and attempt to commune with nature, and every year he would only catch glimpses of its glory. Nature was so overwhelming and absolute that only the Arch-Druid - the oldest living druid - was capable of perceiving it fully. In all of the carvings on the ancient trees there were only four Arch-Druids ever recorded. The mantle passed down to the next oldest Druid once the previous Arch-Druid passed on.

>

>>48453046
>>48451594

obviously that's a matter of personal taste to some extent, and I'm sure other people would edit it differently, but hopefully it gives you some ideas on how to improve your writing. The main things I noticed about your original was that you have problems with sentence structure. In some places your sentences are overly long, whilst in others you use a series of short sentences where a subordinate clause would probably have been better.

You also seem to have something against pronouns. There are plenty of times were you use 'Davy' when you could just have used 'he'.

>>48395180
You've got to be kidding me.

How many submissions have you gotten? They're like two pages each. And mine's been in your hands for a month now!

>>48340522
He walked into the bar. It was a relatively lively for a bar in this neighborhood. If he could think of a better word for 'lively' he would have used it seeing as how the afterlife was anything but. He sat at the bar and ordered two spirits thinking himself clever. The bartender didn't so much as smirk. He took his shot and felt the burning sensation go down his throat into his belly. A familiar sensation that kept him coming back. He ordered a triple and the bartender just looked at him. The bartender grabbed a bottle of cheap Mexican liquor and left it there. As he reached for it he saw it. At the end of the bar was skeleton. He moved to the skeleton. Handed him a drink. I shouldn't said the skeleton with a voice that shouldn't be there. I'm waiting for a friend. He insisted that the skeleton at least take a shot with him. Again the skeleton refused. If I'm late to this appointment things'll get bad he said fear in his eye sockets. He was intrigued so he asked what he was doing here and why he needed to sit at the bar. I'm waiting for my partner the skeleton said. He knocked back a few drinks staring at the skeletons robes. They were falling off of him. Or her. It was hard to tell without being able to the hips. So what do you need your partner for? We're being born soon the skeleton said smiling or something like it. He laughed. And how do you go about that? Just get born he scoffed. The skeleton spoke. I'm meeting with a soul old enough to have forgotten. He stopped laughing. Forgotten what he said. The smell of flowers, the feel of a lovers lips, the warmth of the sun on their face. He laughed aloud. How could anyone forget that he yelled holding himself to keep from busting a gut. The skeleton continued. Forgotten the feelings of loss. Forgotten the feelings of betrayal. Forgotten the sense of dread when being found in the bed of a married woman. Forgotten the pain of have a knife in their belly. He stopped laughing at that last one.

>>48457758
obviously they won't start sending out acceptance letters until the submissions deadline has passed

>>48458433
you can roll over excess acceptances

So as the thread reaches its dying throes I'd like to ask.

How many of you guys are working on actual novels?

>>48459814
I'm sort of in the pre-planning stages. I'm happy with the basic concept, but the plot doesn't seem to want to come together. Still, I might try drafting the first chapter in a day or two.

Then again, it would hardly be the first novel I've started and not finished. And although I've never finished a novel, I've done a fair few short stories and novellas that I never did anything with.

I really don't know why I bother, but I suppose it gives me something to do.

>as the thread reaches its dying throes
the way these threads go it might last for another two or three days

>>48459814
I swear to god I'm trying.

I'm doing better at contributing here, I have an idea I like and that is possibly within my realm of being able to write it without falling because it's too large in scope but I got 1 A.M shifts all week and I'm going to start going to the gym.

I'm going to put my nose to the grindstone and start working on the outline so I can have a proper idea of where I'm going but I'm new as hell to this.

>>48459814
I have an actual novel finished, need to send it out. I don't even have an excuse; it's been rewritten 10 times and has had multiple beta readers all give it the seal of approval.

>>48460148
>>48460050
Bit late but what are they about?
>>4846117
Do eet

>>48461304
An oddball high school wrestler's best friend stops talking to him and cuts him out of her life.

Adrift he's quietly recruited for future murder shenanigans by a local security firm.

Not a lot of world building. A lot of talking. Hopefully my piss poor writing can manage it.

>>48459814
>How many of you guys are working on actual novels?
Well, "working" might be a bit of an overstatement, but I'm in research and planning stage of one, and even broader outlining and prototyping of another. The first one will take a very long time, because it will need a LOT of actual research, mostly historical, as it is supposed to be grounded in very real themes and events.
The other requires minimal research, but I'm simply not really confident in it enough. I think the core ideas are good, but I'm really struggling with how to even begin tackling it.
I am determined to push both through though. I'm already slowly closing on what is supposed to be my first real literary debut (short story collection). If I can get one book out, I can get out more.

An Elvish Witch screws a Daemon to get her power?

>>48459814
I'm trying.

The thing is I don't want to write a story about teenage characters but I'm barely two years removed from being able to buy cigarettes and I'm not a social butterfly because of studying.

So I'm debating whether or not to just say fuck it and write something about a teen.

http://pastebin.com/tC0kC7eN

Wrote this during the last few posts of a thread on bioplanes/sentient weapons. Wanna write some more, since I definitely was a bit rushed for time and didn't go into as much detail as I probably should've, but I was hoping for some criticism on the writing quality itself other than the absolutely egregious use of 'she', which got pretty ridiculous

Pastebinned to save the 13 posts it would've taken otherwise.

>>48460385
I'm liking that pic, I defeinitely wana see a buddy-friend-story of that IG and sister.

>>48465173
>The thing is I don't want to write a story about teenage characters but I'm barely two years removed from being able to buy cigarettes and I'm not a social butterfly because of studying.
It really should not be so much about what you are close to by your own age, as it should be about what you feel like you have actually something to say about. Sure, writing about being a 40-something balding family dad coping with mid-life-crisis is pretty hard if you are a teenager who still thinks getting your hands on a bottle of liquor is the coolest thing ever. The personal experience is important. But ultimately, you either feel like you have a story to tell about certain kind of person, or not. Personally, I have been always writing a lot of stories about either kids, or old people for most of my life (between teenage years and mid-twenties...), simply because I guess I always felt like stuck between the two phases of life.

Just really, think of the type of story, and the type of a character you feel like you have actually something to tell about, that their outlooks and problems in some way sound relevant to you.

>>48454774
Paws scrabble around on his shoulders to find purchase. No one pays him any mind, the boy's always been like this. He'd wander around the market square with cats balancing on his arms and shoulder and neck. It was an amusing sight at first but the locals quickly settled into comfortable contempt for the boy's oddities.

But the boy became a young man, went off to university and they forgot about him. Then came the murders, a dozen young ladies all butchered and ravished and left bleeding in alleyways. The last one had been special to him, even if the broadsheets hadn't been screaming about the Slasher he'd have known something wasn't right. The rose scented letters stopped coming. Her parents invited him to the funeral and he stopped by the flower shop to pay respects.

But his friends were on the prowl, whiskers twitching, noses sniffling, eyes probing the shadows. They'd run across roof tops and windowsills and climb walls and fences. They saw what others didn't, heard what others ignored.

So he sat and drank tea and shared tales with grieving siblings and distraught parents but when the next night came he walked the streets himself. He wouldn't need a knife, the monster stalking the streets wouldn't be put down by normal metals anyway. Oh no, this matter would require an old fashioned solution and he'd deliver the old Ultharian monster remedy with relish.

The dreams were coming back again. It was perhaps the worst feeling in the world, knowing that you were in a nightmare, but unable to wake up from it. Everything bad that happened to you, coming back night after night with a vengeance. Had he truly killed so many people? He figured he would need to ask the regimental commissar if he needed an answer. A wrong answer and he would be executed for heresy. No, perhaps it was better to curl in a corner of his mind and wait for the nightmare to be over.

The whistling had started. It wouldn't be long now. He was back in his command tank. Smart Shelly, she was called. With the 97th Armored insignia drawn on the side of her turret. A beautiful girl, with a vanquisher cannon. He stared at his reflection in the small mirror. Even though he had this nightmare for years beyond count, he always liked this part. Bright black eyes stared back at him. A boyish face that was full of the promise of youth, with prominent cheekbones and square jaw stared back. His boyish good looks were marred by the black growth on his neck and chin.
His beard was unkempt. After this day was done, he was going to shave and take a shower. A hat with the name of Anlec and the rank of armor company captain was in his hands.

The whistling grew louder, and despite it not being real, he winced. His world exploded into pain. It was odd, that he remembered the screams so exquisitely. they were engraved upon his mind as though they were heroes of the imperium. Even now he heard the sizzle which meant the jelly of his eye was on fire.

Over his screams, he heard another voice , as distant as the roars of the valkyries.
"Colonel, Colonel!"
No, that was wrong. He was just a captain, a captain of an ad hoc group.

Anlec Breffmann woke up with a start, and saw Lupio in his room. As an orderly, it was lupio's job to wake him up, and help him with his daily toiletries.
>>48472060
Space Marine sequel Never Ever
feelsbadman

>>48473739
"I am awake Lupio. Never touch me again unless headquarters is under attack and I am knocked out."

"Sorry sir, your water's heated up. Our - ahem - allies want to discuss troop deployments with you." Lupio's expression of fear and awe told Anlec volumes. He managed to get a nod and a yawn before snapping his fingers. Lupio left the room and closed the door on the way out.

Anlec took a deep breath and counted. He had a long day ahead of him, and although part of him wanted to never leave the bed, he knew he had work to do.

He took the shaving razor in his hand and rubbed his face. The stubble was growing faster, and the coarse black hair never agreed with his face. His reflection stared back at him.
His eyes were now much more subdued, the light seemingly shining less brightly in them. His bionic eye was a bright red, with it's scanners on standby. Nearly half of his face was made of metal now, which made shaving less of a chore, and also reminded him of what he had become.
Since that fateful day, he had risen high. but it had come at a cost.

Headaches and nightmares tortured Anlec, and due to the alertness that his rank demanded, he couldn't take drugs to alleviate the pain. He had grown used to the dull ache in his head, but sometimes it would flare up. Of course, it had it's perks. He had been given command of the shattered remnants of the 97th armored, and over the course of a dozen years and a hundred battles, managed to cobble together an ad hoc combat group that he led to death and glory. Mostly the former, but sometimes the latter.

It was nice to reminisce about old days long gone by, but he had a job to do. These 'allies' were as grating as they were elegantly perfect.

His shaving done, Anlec wore his field uniform and put his overcoat and his hat. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, straightened his hair some more and unbuttoned his coat. Satisfied with his reflection, he walked out of the door and towards the briefing room.

>>48474440
His officers - what remained of them rather - were in a corner of the room, looking at their allies with a mixture of badly hidden interest and a mixture of attraction and revulsion. He didn't blame them. The eldar were elegant in a way that statues were supposed to be, with no discernible features or flaws. Just a species of extremely beautiful creatures. There was something profoundly inhuman about them as well. Perhaps it was the way their faces were just so elongated, or maybe the ways their ears were tapered and pointed like knives. Or maybe it was the way they moved, sudden and quick in a way that was startling until you got used to it.

The xenos were sitting as still as statues on their side of the room, their posture making his men look positively drunk by comparison.

Seeing him enter the room, his men stood up and gave him a salute. It could be very good or very bad. Either morale was high enough that the men were in high spirits, or maybe morale was low and the men were deferring to authority. Anlec was never good at these things.

He saluted them in turn. His men took their seats, and stared at him expectantly. He noticed the eldar doing the same, all except three unhelmed ones. One of them seemed to be the leader. A female who called herself a farseer. The eldar seemed to treat her with deference that he found disquieting. The other one was an autarch. He surmised the autarch to be their commissar, who advised the xeno woman on military matters. Once he was done here, the ordo xenos would probably debrief him thoroughly and tortuously. If he was done here.

"Ladies and gentlemen. You have all been briefed before. If you have any doubts about the plan or want to come up with an objection, now is the time."

>>48474864

His men wouldn't answer. He knew it. They already had done their discussions previously over several days, marking out the axis of advance for the spearhead. With a command as depleted as his, Anlec knew his men would have to break through the enemy lines and reach the objective. The ordo xenos had chosen him to work with the xenos at their request and he had no choice but to obey. He was not going to risk the lives of his boys on some foolhardy venture and most of his battalion was being retrofitted. A company sized force would not be missed if it was lost, and new commanders were always popping up.

Still, he didn't plan on dying if he didn't need it. In retrospect he had a pretty good idea why the eldar had asked for him. He had helped to evacuate a few eldar villages during a battle against chaos forces on a maiden world. He had no idea why they were on the planet in the first place, but then, his was not to question why.

He had told in his debriefing that killing the xenos would have wasted supplies that he was keen on saving, and it had been enough for the military brass. Of course, it was half true. He detested the killing of civilians. He had seen enough bodies of broken women and children throughout his career, and liked to think he had made a difference.

He had no idea it would come back to bite him in the ass, this far down the line.

I am gonna keep writing this after I wake up. its way past my bedtime.

>>48470675
The prince was a cruel man. Seven wives, three hung, two divorced and declared missing, one poisoned, one died during childbirth. She would be his eighth, a modest sacrifice from her family for land and virtual immortality. As they were betrothed, her family tree became permanently tied with the ruling family, and, if she gave children, her lineage would progress, forever immortal for as long as the crown belonged to his clan.

But still, he was a cruel man, and he knew it. Why else would he guard himself constantly? Flanked by soldiers, there wasn't a room he left or entered without soldiers standing post, and, conscious of his cruelty or not, they swore to protect the prince, and they knew the consequence if they failed. Certainly, the prince was a bastard, but, if anything was worse than a bastard, it would be an oathbreaker. They would not cease their vigil, richer wives had tried and failed to buy their loyalty.

Assassins could be hired, but they would be floating face-down in the moat by morning, as the guard, though somewhat unmotivated, were effective. As it stood, the prince was to live until nature intervened. Clutching a dagger, provided by a knowing maid who wished for the task to be performed, and honestly hoped the princess would be her hope, his wife quietly made her way to an unoccupied corner of the castle, stepping through overgrown grass and shivering as creeping vines feathered against her shoulder and arms.

The prince was well guarded, but she was not. She was not under watchful eyes, and the prince could obtain a ninth if he so desired.

The easier choice was obvious.

>>48473739
>>48474440
>>48474864
>>48474986
>>48474998
I'm interested. Keep going.

>>48291210
/r/ing the story of the characters who were demi gods who become gods one was a druid one was the son of the god of war etc.

>>48474986
No good deed goes unpunished as they say. Anlec wondered what good deed he did to be rewarded with a mission like this. Still, he had a job to do, and a war to get back to. The eternal war waited for no man, and he would be damned if he survived this fool's errand and returned to find his men spread out over a dozen sectors.

"Well, then. We leave in two - "

"My pardon, colonel. We believe your plan has a few glaring flaws."

Of course, it had to be the xeno woman. Her tone was polite, but there was an undercurrent of sneering superiority to it. A life of being mocked for his metal face and his rank had made Anlec Breffmann conscious about such slights, whether they be real or imagined.

He turned to face her, his real and bionic eyes boring into her face. The farseer looked at him squarely in the eyes for a moment, perhaps taken aback by the fury he was radiating. There was no point in getting angry at them now. Just a little longer, and they would be back to being enemies.

Anlec took a deep breath and kept his face neutral. "You were saying, farseer?"

"The final approach will be heavily guarded, attacking head on will not be a good idea. The cultists have several - "

"Anti aircraft missile batteries that will make short work of your vehicles. Yes I know that. Which is why you will we travelling with our vehicles."

Anlec didn't laugh too much anymore during briefings. That was well. Seeing the momentary shock on the autarch's face was worth it for spite alone. As she whispered in the farseer's ear, anlec took a look at his men. They had objected, and their objections had been quelled.

The column needed to move together, or they would be picked apart. The conventional defenses would be brought to bear against them in an estimated time of an hour. The armor would engage the more dug in sections of the picketing force, and the mechanized infantry would overrun the defenses. The armor would disengage after the column had