Storythread

Yo to anyone in the thread can you do an author of a story I'm gonna be posting soon? I need a picture of that anime style biker hero from last thread but I can't seem to find it.

Would anyone mind posting that Biker Hero image for me so I can quote it? Thanks.

File: 1473651763185.png (242KB, 640x830px) Image search: [Google]

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>>49483303
>hey, he can just get it from the last thread. It's still in the archive, so...
>[looks at OP]
>...which I did not, in fact, link to like I normally do.
>d'oh

okay, well if anyone's interested in the stories from last week the last thread will still be in the archive here >>49259284 until Sunday morning.

And I assume this is the picture you meant?

File: 1473816352552.png (3MB, 1683x2251px) Image search: [Google]

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I want a funny

File: highschool_girl_x_gas_mask_by_aoiogata01-daiokoe.jpg (115KB, 1024x636px) Image search: [Google]

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Amidst the lockdown of the CDC facility was a schoolgirl. She walks through the crowds with her bag and aluminum bat by her side, and when she got to the yellow tape, she slips under with nary a complaint. The officer who saw her pass by took her bag, and when the press asked what her deal was, but she ignores them and enters the front door.

In the entryway was a single detective, an old man, with a ragged jacket. "It's good you came, Sadasako. The Hazmat team's being held up, and we can't wait. It's insane, some idiots tried to blow up the place with some bombs. The good news is that most of the samples are fine, but those that weren't..."
Sadasako nods her head, her stringy ghostlike hair concealing whether or not she was even paying attention. "I understand, Commissioner. Please, allow me to handle this." The commissioner takes a gasmask and mounts it on the girl, sliding it under her long hair.
As she enters the facility, the commissioner reminds her, "When you're done, I have something ready for dinner, so don't stay there for too long."
Sadasako pauses, looking back through the glass door. "I...understand, commissioner."

The commissioner sighs. She was always strange, she had his brother to thank for that. Being a renowned geneticist, he managed to develop a particular strain of human DNA that was impervious to even the most powerful of viruses and bacteria. She was immune to illness, incapable of developing allergies, even cuts and bruises healed at a startling rate. Considering her genetics, she was considered a holy grail. Even being in a danger zone with pathogens on the loose did little to her, the gasmask was really more of an accessory, a mark of her duty to help him.

Sadasako explores the abandoned facility to notice the bodies strewn about, some of them already emaciated, one or two already showing some advanced necrosis around their bullet wounds. She needed only look to realize that they could spread if that blood was contacted.

>>49478642
Aistraph Chambers stood victorious amidst the planetary wastes, a wretched green beast crumpled at his feet. The rough sphere upon which he stood was the core of the greater debris field around which the remains of worlds drifted almost imperceptibly, around which planetoids and moons encircled, with the blackness of space illimitable behind them. Far flung galaxies, nebulae and void ruins every so often drifted into sight like flickering stars when the thin, reddish clouds of the nebulous atmosphere parted. By his side, the sorceress, her raven black hair swept back in a wild cloud behind her, nude but for the generous ornamentation of her many, many trinkets, charms and amulets about her bosom and the belt laden with jewel-hilted blades, scrolls and vials about her hips. Chambers cleaned off the deep, dark green metal of his blade on a shredded piece of cloth from the fallen creature, an astral assassin. He stepped from the low mound to the dusty ground, the sorceress slinking back behind him, her fingers playing across his tensed skin. Their goal lay here in this deep place. Far above them, countless miles away on a stable but broken continent, was the monolithic city the man of crystal sent them from, to seek this most elder of places. To think the life, death, crime, love and mundanity in that city was going on so regularly right now while Aistraph and the sorceress stood in the unplumbed depths of living myth certainly put existence in perspective.

cont.

>>49487330
Striding across the barren plain, there came into view something like the shell of a building, yet was never meant as one. Raised, vertical surfaces resembling free-standing walls with uneven apexes surrounded, carved from a single slab of dark stone dusted with the sand of ages, an intricately carved altar, resembling some nameless, forgotten structure or god, topped with short spires whose hammered flat surfaces twinkled dimly in the diffused cosmic light. A great half circular surface acted as the altar itself and was littered with braziers and chalices, the former belching thick grey smoke which collected around the base of the altar, the chalices were of something like gold and stained with red and rich, dark green. Calcified remains of beings were heaped in two piles in the middle. But before it all was the ultimate rite keeper, a figure which, as it turned to Aistraph, showed its true proportions. Though bent was its humanoid form from the weight of elder ages, it stood heads above Aistraph. Its pearly white hair fell stringy down its front and shoulders, it was bedecked in many layers of ancient magi's finery, with a coat and robes of dim gold and around it all, a colossal, dragging cloak of the richest crimson. Its limbs were long and thin, but wiry, greyish and veined. But its face was the most terrible part, for it was hollow and long, eyeless and gazing, the mouth agape, unmoving and issuing whispered dark litanies. The Yrgmoth descended the rough-hewn steps of the dais, the last remaining pre-human devil of the elder world.

No idea what to do next and it's 6:50am, I want to revisit this.

>>49487213
After grabbing a few spare body bags, she rolls down her sleeves and, with the help of her bat, fit them in. The headset in her mask rings.
"Sadasako," she replies.
"Sadasako, do you see?" The commissioner asks through his own headset.
"Bodies," she observes. "Some of them already rotted, frozen in rigor mortis."
He asks, "Who...were they?"
Without any concern, she mentions, "Two terrorists, three employees. The Employees, their blood is infectious."
The old man nods, grumbles. "I see. Please be careful." She wordlessly replies and hangs up.

It was hard for him to not be worried for his niece. She was already learned in her father's work by the age ten, but emotionally, she was not quite as developed. She showed concern about people and their safety, but never quite connected with her peers, especially when concerned with infections. She wasn't even supposed to work for the police, but she insisted, as a means to thank him for taking her in. Thanks to the forensics department having an intern position, she was allowed to reach where she is right now: investigating potential outbreaks without the need of hazmat equipment.

Sadasako takes some medical equipment and then takes some samples from those victims she shoved in the bags. She hurries forward and knocks on the glass door she entered from. Her uncle takes the samples with a thanks and closes the door shortly after.
The next floor had more signs of violent struggle, bullets in the walls, thrown furniture, strewn bodies. These too had the rapid necrosis, but what concerned her was the nature of some of those injuries: claw marks and bites, scattered on both sides. Sadasako contacts her uncle.
"Commissioner," she asks, "it's Sadasako. I...do not think I will be able to effectively isolate them and gather suitable samples within the timeframe. Please forgive me."
"Don't worry," he assures her. "Take what you can. As long as most of them are wrapped up, the Hazmat teams can handle the rest."

>>49483387
Exellent, thanks OP. Just the image I'am looking for. BRB gonna be posting it in a while.

>>49483387
No one really knows who this vigilante is. Some people; especially law enforcement officials say he is nothing more but a punk and a rebel who dresses up as some pretentious fictional hero in a TV show, but others; especially the people who’re saved by him, believe him as a noble hero. Sure vigilantism is understandable as a violation that some crafty people would use to take advantage of the law, and not everyone- no, no one is ever above the law, even the Biker Hero knew he was not above it and would sometimes let the official authorities handle things themselves.

But of course there have been some local stories and urban legends surrounding this local vigilante-hero, some say he was a disgruntled ex-cop who quit the force out of shame and self guilt but decided to take up a masked identity and dish out justice his or her own personal way. While others believe he or she is just a rich adrenaline junkie who just has too much time and money in their hands and spends it in such acts of vigilantism.

He or she is also referred to in numerous nicknames; “Biker Hero”, “The White Scarf” or “White Cloth”; because of the fact that he or she wears a white scarf. Some names even include; “Leather Jacket”, “The Midnight Kai”, or “The Cyclist.” Though according to some witness testimonies and even surveys done by law enforcement, it seems the most common names people call this Biker Vigilante is either simply Biker Hero or White Scarf.

Hiss acts of heroism range from retrieving snatched purses from snatchers, stopping attempted robberies, applying first aid to injured before medical response teams arrived to apply full treatment, and even tales of victims of attempted assault and sexual assault being saved as they hear the sound of his revving bike engine followed by the sound of the assailants being beaten up by the White Scarf and speeding off. Heck, there were even tales of him parkour-ing up trees to save kittens stuck on trees.

File: Yamaha-Bike-Wallpaper-HD-1920x1080-6.jpg (646KB, 1920x1080px) Image search: [Google]

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>>49488478

Tonight was going to be another night of vigilante heroism for this Biker Hero, he was in his racing superbike; speeding down the road to a destination which housed typical scum and villainy, which he or she got from a trusted informant. It was a small abandoned warehouse that was just located near the outskirts of town. And as he got near the destination, he slowed down his superbike, parked it in a discreet location and proceeded to walk the rest of the way on foot.

As he begun approaching the entrance to the warehouse, some goons saw him but yet do not know who he or she is yet while still in the shadows.

“Hey you! Who the fuck are you? This is private property. So back away!”

The White Scarf continued to advance as another thug yelled out. “Are you deaf or something!? GET OUTTA HERE! YOU’RE NOT WELCOME! AWAY WITH YOU, OR ELSE!!!”

It was until then the White Scarf stepped into the light did the thugs realize who it was.
“Hooooly Shit! IT’S THAT BIKER GUY!!!”

“THE WHITE SCARF!!!”
One of the thugs charged head first to the Biker Hero with a metal pipe, but the Biker Hero brandished a Wakizashi, drew it from its scabbard. The thug made a wide opening as he was about to strike with his pipe, only for the Biker Hero to use this opening to cut open the thugs throat as he thuds to the ground.
The second thug is craven and was about to dash back to the warehouse, but the White Scarf was nimble and fast and managed to outrun the thug as nearly appeared in front of him and delivered a knock blow with his metal padded gauntlet. The White Scarf let out a cheesy one liner;

“That is what you get for guarding the doors of villainy, and crime!” The White Scarf said in a cartoony hero manner as the thug was then knocked out. The Biker then rushed down the door and busted in the warehouse.

>>49488530
> imagine this song being played then: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SYmPpteNHqo

The sound of the doors being busted open startled the thugs guarding the floor and the startle turned to fear once the hoodlums realized who broke down the doors.

“OH MY- THE WHITE SCARF!”

There was a bit of a pause as the goons were flabbergasted at the sight of the White Scarf, until one of the thugs blurted out; “HEY, THERE’S MORE OF US AND ONLY ONE OF HIM! WE AIN’T GONNA LET NO GODDAMN SCHMUCK WEARING A LEATHER JACKET AND A BIKE HELMET SCARE US, GET HIM!!!”

“YEAH, BRING IT!”

Some of the thugs begun brandishing makeshift weapons of their own; bats, pipes, chain links, and planks of wood; came charging at the biker hero. But the Biker Hero proved a much more experienced and trained fighter as he mostly sidestepped and dodged every predictable attack and swing they made, and in turn he simply cut down the attacking foes with his wakizashi.

One thug even threw an empty bottle at the White Scarf’s head, only for his head to be protected by his helmet, which did nothing but just made the Biker Hero turn to the thug who threw the bottle at him. The thug attempted to tackle the White Scarf, but again the White Scarf was more agile and nimble and simply knocked the thug over by slamming his arm to the thug’s neck, and proceeded to knock out the thug by punching him with his metal padded glove.

>>49488586
>BGM from >>49488586 continues to play

After clearing the first floor he proceeded by the stairs, the White Scarf was immediately greeted by gun fire the moment he opened door that ended from up the stairs.

“LET’S SEE YOU TRY DODGING BULLETS WHILE DOIN FANCY MOVES WITH THAT SWORD OF YOUR’S SCARF!”

The White Scarf being the savvy combatant he/she was, was obviously not going to charge into a hail of automatic gunfire like that, and while the idea of deflecting bullets with a blade such as a katana-like weapon like his/her wakizashi seems cool and inspires images of badassery. Such a move or technique is unrealistic and just plain dumb, so the White Scarf just opened the door to the second floor oh-so-slight ajar just to peek at how many people he/she could see only for the guys with guns to notice and shoot again as the scarf quickly shut the door again.

The Biker checked his/her biker jacket to get something, what he/she got was some homemade smoke bombs. He opened the door and before the armed goons could shoot with their sub-machineguns, the Biker Hero threw the homemade smoke bombs as it detonated and filled half the entire floor with white smoke; although it was homemade, it was very effective, clearly the Biker Hero put thought and good chemistry work into making his devices thus showing how savvy the White Scarf is. The floor was filled with white smoke which blinded the thugs.

“FUCK! WHERE IS THAT BIKER BITCH!? CAN’T SEE SHIT!”

One of the gun-toting thugs begun shooting wildly into the smoked area hoping to hit the White Scarf, but the Scarf had an advantage thanks to his helmet. It was no ordinary full face bike helmet; it was modified by the Scarf him/herself, reinforced with Kevlar and other materials that military combat helmets are made of, and it was even fitted with high tech Head-Up-Display systems; including some thermal imaging which the White Scarf used to see through the smoke and identify his/her targets.

>>49488646

The Scarf began cutting down the blinded thugs and as one gun wielding thug noticed a buddy of his being slashed by the Scarf’s blade he started blindly firing wildly to where his friend got slashed and killed.

“COME THE FUCK OUT SCARF! COME OUT AND FIGHT LIKE A- *slash* BLAARRRGH!”

With the blinding smoke the White Scarf utilized it to cut down the gun wielding thugs with his trusted wakizashi blade and repeated the process one by one to each armed thug, but once the smokescreen has dissipated there were only a few gun toting goons left; three precisely. They opened fire towards the Biker only for him to immediately roll onto his/her shoulders towards a metal crate which provided cover against bullets.

“Got any more of them smokes Scarf? What’s the matter, ain’t got guns ya self- AHHH!!!”

Although the White Scarf personally does not have any guns, what he/she had were a ready arsenal of throwing knives, some of which were even iconic kunai knives. And the two thugs were immediately dumbfounded at the sight of their buddy being struck to the neck by a throwing knife and before one of them could even react, the Biker quickly threw another throwing knife to a thug’s neck as said goon gurgle and slumped to the ground bleeding to death.

The Biker Hero dashed off from behind the metal crate as the last remaining gun toting goon in the floor wildly fired at the White Scarf but every single shot missed as every single shot simply hit the ground and other miscellaneous object around and the Biker stopped to hide behind another column beam that was holding up the warehouse building. The remaining thug tried rushing to where the White Scarf was but as the thug got behind the column beam the White Scarf was hiding but found nothing until the thug felt a tapping behind him, and there he was, the White Scarf.

>>49488677

One thug from the third and final floor of the small warehouse rushed downstairs to the commotion only to see the Scarf and before he could even try shooting at the Biker, the Scarf threw a kunai at the thug’s general direction but missed. The thug hurriedly shot back with his sub machinegun as the White Scarf rolled to cover, the thug rushed back upstairs to inform his remaining pals and the boss;

“Guys, GUYS. HE’S HERE! THE WHITE SCARF! EVERYONE BELOW’S KICKED THE BUCKET!!!”

“Bullshit! The guys below had guns, you saying that Biker killed ‘em all!?”

"Uhh YEAH! HE KILLED THEM ALL WITH HIS KUNG-FU SWORD AND THROWING KNIVES 'N SHIT!"

The boss of this seedy crew then chimed in and told everyone: “Settle down boys and girls, settle down. Let him or her come up, stay close to each other and get yourselves some guns. And gather up the drug mules.”

Meanwhile downstairs the White Scarf actually was contacting the police from an untraceable phone he utilized and modified.

“That is correct dispatcher, the location I am at is an old abandoned warehouse just out in the outskirts. It's named the Toddman Warehouse."

"Is there any more information you'd like to give out? I'm having a bit of difficulty taking you seriously since you are talking like a cartoon hero."

"This no laughing matter, I have a hunch that there are innocence involved in here, I shall ensure the safety and well-being of any hostages be handled. Send in the SWATs!"

The Scarf then hung up believing and or knowing the police will arrive at the current location. His/her plan is to take out the baddies, secure any possible hostages and make out of the area as the law enforcement officials clear up the rest of the place, he had already encountered the law before which was them trying to arrest him. But none the less, the Scarf knew he/she was not above the law and simply lived with having to avoid direct contact with the police. He then proceeded upstairs.

>>49488478
>>49488530
>>49488586
>>49488646
>>49488677
>>49488809

Gonna continue this later on, just want to say thanks to the man who found that pic for me and also, does anyone know a list or a "dictionary" for police jargon?

Might include a small police chase in this story with such fitting music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jlnvv5up0u4

>>49485956
A captain, a pilot, a diplomat and... a bartender.

He swore this would be the last time he ever let his sister drag him into her work as he tore through the ships corridors, air being sucked out of room after room.
"Escape pod, escape pod..." he repeated to himself while checking for any sign he was going the right way.
Rounding the next corner he crashed right into just the person he wanted to see
Or maybe the last person he wanted to see
His sister jumped up from the floor just as he got to his feet, doing his best to restyle his bright crimson hair.

"Where are you going?" She had already grabbed him by the wrist and begun pulling him behind her
He struggled to keep his footing as she pulled him along, "I was hoping the escape pods. Barring that a brothel," he looked up, distracted by the thought, "yeah, if I had to choose a place to die, a brothel doesn't sound to bad"
"You're such a pig," she huffed and briefly thought about letting go. But she wouldn't; they both knew that.

Finally they could see them. At the end of the hall were the planet-facing escape pods. Finally she let go of her brother as they each charged down the line, looking for a pod they could use.
At the end of the line, there was a single pod left unfired. A perfect escape, if only there weren't already two people fighting over it.
"And I said, I outrank you," came the voice of the decorated man with tidy blonde hair.
"You outrank me on a ship that's not going to last even ten more minutes under this bombardment," huffing and adjusting her clothing, "and need I remind you the whole point of this expedition was for you to escort me to the embassy on Tarion IX"

>>49490193
cont.
"That mission is null and void, now get away from my pod," finishing his thought he looked up and saw the elven siblings.
"Identify yourselves!" he barked at them, reaching for the weapon on his hip.
The elven girl straightened up and gave a practiced salute, "Sergeant Lysandra Numiel, Co-pilot and sensors operator," her boots clicked together as she finished.
"Erynion Numiel... stowaway," he mimicked his sisters salute as well as possible barely appeasing the captain, who, not managing to find his gun, finally turned to look for it.

And found himself staring right down the barrel.
"My escape pod," was the only thing the shaking diplomat managed to say.
"Why exactly can't we all get into it?" Erynion's question drew everyone's gaze.
Almost in unison, "do you know anything about flying?"
The captain sighed, "Any more than one person in a pod could disrupt its trajectory and mean we all die when we hit the planet."
The diplomat wrapped her arm around his throat, holding him as a human shield, "that's enough. Time for me to go," and she made a break for the pod.
Eryn reacted as quickly as possible, pulling his gold-plated pistol and taking a shot at her leg.

Too bad he missed.

Everyone hit the deck as the bullet ricocheted in the hall, pinging off the metal walls until it hit the pod's control panel with a spray of sparks. With the pinging of the bullet over the four got to their feet, each noticing the scorched panel. Silently Alexandra smacked her palm again the back of her little brother's head.
"Great, now we're all dead," everyone was thinking it, but the captain had the nerve to say it.

>>49490368
cont.
"Maybe not," an idea had started to form in Eryn's mind, slowly hatching into a plan, "Sister, you can fly, right?"
"I'm a co-pilot," looking a little worried where this was going
"Good enough. Captain, take us to the bridge"
"I don't take orders from-" his sentence was cut off by another barrage, rocking the ship as the lights flickered, "follow me," and snatched his gun away from the diplomat, who had dropped to her knees and had tears welling in her eyes.
Seeing them leave she ran after them, "wait, wait for me."

The bridge was damaged, but it was intact as it needed to be.
"Sister-" Eryn started to direct her to the pilot's chair when she cut him off.
"Already on it"
Sometimes he swore she could read his mind.

For the first time since the attack had started he took a look out the viewport and saw their assailant. The ship was wreathed in coils of flowing purple, no engines in sight. This ship was definitely full of Psirons. Gifted with natural psionic powers, each one honed them from birth, telekinesis, telepathy, illusory effects, all were powers of the Psirons.

And here they were, blowing the ship to pieces.

The captain shouted, "Why are there Psirons here? We're no where near their space."
Eryn shifted uncomfortably. Darting her eyes around, the diplomat noticed.
"It's your fault. Isn't it?" She glared at the bartender.
"I mean, why w-would it be? What could I possibly have that they want?"
The captain walked up and grabbed his arms, "Pat him down, sergeant."
Not even looking up from the controls as she steered the ship toward the planet and started to accelerate, "Little busy over here."
"I'll do it," and the blond woman step over, searching through his pockets until, on a hidden one inside his jacket, she found it.

>>49490525
cont.
"WHY? WHY WOULD YOU EVEN TAKE THIS?" The entire bridge was nearly deafened by her screeching yell.
"I won it in a game of cards. How was I supposed to know that it would bring the wrath of an entire race to bear?"
"These are made especially for the purpose of giving psionics, an extremely coveted power, to those who aren't naturally gifted. They give these only to the people who prove themselves to be of the right character to have such power. AND YOU THOUGHT THEY WOULDN"T MIND?"
Alexandra shouted back from the pilot's seat, "If you don't mind keeping it down, I'm trying not to kill us all."
"Well talk about this later," yanking his arm free and snatching back the artifact.

The ship hit the atmosphere and the pulsing purple cube flew out of Eryn's hand, bouncing around the bridge. The three of them looked to each other, holding each others' gaze for just a second before they simultaneously dove for the artifact, tangling up in midair and knocking it further away. The ship crashed through another layer of atmosphere.
"Okay, this is going to be a rough landing but-" she glanced back and saw them squabbling and sighed. tilting the ship so that its belly started to touch the treetops of the planet's jungle canopy.

The other three crawled over each other, scratching and reaching for the little cube as each thump of the ship's rough landing knocked it away from them.
"I won it fair and square."
"I'm the captain here."
"I don't trust either of you as far as a Psiron could telekinetically throw you."
Another sigh from Alexandra the ship settled lower, the snapping of trees filling the bridge. The ship had almost settled when she saw that it was barrelling toward a giant tree at least twice as tall as the others. Alex desperately pulled on the controls, trying to get out of the way but the ships nose slammed into the tree.

>>49490657
cont.
[Is everyone okay?] Alex's voice echoed in each of the other three's minds.
"Who taught you to fly?" The diplomat sounded indignant.
"I've been worse," a simple response from the captain
"Just peachy. At least I got the thing back," Eryn picked himself up and fixed his jacket.
"Liar" The diplomat's voice rang out in the now otherwise silent bridge.
"I have it right here," He pulled out a coin, but for a second she saw it as the artifact, before it faded back to the appearance of a coin.
"IT'S MINE!" The captain reached out and started to move toward him, but even as he did, the coin flew out of Eryn's hand and into the captain's, where the illusion faded. "Where's the real one?"
[Guys...] Alex held out a few shards of cobalt blue metal. [It's smashed.] and as she said this, the three others realized something. As she talked her mouth wasn't moving.

Thus ends the first adventure/introduction of the psychic space crew. Feel free to continue their adventure.

Captain: Telekinesis
Pilot: Can speak telepathically
Diplomat: Can sense motives and see through lies
Bartender: Induce hallucination

>>49487420
There was an uncomfortable pause for a moment. He knew why: Sadasako never liked leaving things incomplete, especially not when there's a risk. "Understood," she finally replies. "These individuals on the second floor, they have look like they clawed at each other." Considering that the floor below didn't have them, this had to mean that the phage had a short lifespan, possibly an alternate means of infection. Just seeing them was unsettling, much less forcing them into bags in order to contain their infection, and yet she still does this without even hesitating.
As she runs to the washroom in order to clean her sleeves and hands, she pauses to hear something. She moves to the room on the other side of the washroom to hear it clearer - someone was breathing!

Sadasako runs to find far more than that noise. All across the floor of this storage room was complete chaos. Scientists slumped on the floor, staining the floor with red and orange, blue and violet and glass splattered on the floor in the middle, windows shot out. And in the middle of this all was one last terrorist, breathing labored, his body decorated in weeping sores and claw marks.
"Commissioner," the girl hurriedly calls, "I found someone. He's alive, but he has a lot of wounds. Breathing is strained. Awaiting orders."
Her uncle had to act fast. Awaiting orders meant she wasn't sure what to do in this case. "Sadasako, please ensure his condition. Don't move him."

The masked girl takes a cautious step, but as she does, she hears laughter.
"It's...so beautiful..." Words are choked out of this last survivor. "This world worries so much about living... So what's the problem if I gave them less to worry about?" She slowly approaches him, but it seemed like he didn't respond. "If they knew you like I did, mister Sandman..."
"Sandman?" Sadasako freezes. Did he actually see her?
He laughs weakly. "That first time... When I saw you, I was already in love..."

>>49490763
Anon who posted the image here. I liked the story, well written, but I think you need to be clearer about who's who.

>>49491848
Yeah, I meant to also name the captain and diplomat. This is what I get for writing in the dead of night.
As a note: The captain is the blonde man in all black in the top left
Alexandra the pilot is the red haired knife ear in the top right
Erynion is the other knife ear in the bottom left
Unnamed diplomat is the bottom right

>>49491604
Sadasako's legs refuse to move back, the entire conversation was just getting too weird. "Commissioner, he's mumbling to himself. He's..." she breathes in. "He might be the perpetrator."
"Just keep him distracted for as long as you can," he calls back. "I just heard from the Hazmat teams, they got past the traffic holdup. They'll be here soon."
She tensely responds. "Understood."

The order was enough to walk forward. She always listened to orders.
"Mister Sandman..." the man mutters again, "I've wanted to see you...for so long..."
"You...do?" Sadasako was glad for the mask. Even though she didn't know how to smile quite properly, she blushed quite brightly.
"Your eyes...just like back then...so big..." the girl before him fretted a bit before approaching again, eyes trained at him. "So pretty... Wish I could move...make sure you're real..." She looks at his hands - one of them had shards of glass embedded in it, the other stained. She hesitates, but with her sleeves over her hands, she has nothing to fear. She grabs his stained hand, taking it into hers. Another sigh. "Just like that time...made me feel safe... Then...the face..."
Sadasako speaks, "Please, stay awake. I...I do not want to leave until I can see what you did."
The edges of the man's mouth pick up in a faint twitch. "Yeah...I'd love that too...means the world you're here..." His eyelids slowly droop.
"Please, do not go yet. I still want to ask you something." Her hands grab tighter.
"Ask away then..."
Sadasako gathers herself. Just being near these dead people, this hotbed of contagion, made her on edge. "Why? Why did you do this to these people? Why did you kill them?"
"Because...so many people are afraid...of you." His voice was growing fainter. "I love you, but...nobody feels the same way. Thought...this way, more people would understand..." The words left her speechless. All this...to spread his feelings? "World would be happier...if we weren't afraid of you...right?"

>>49492873
She chokes on her words, caught in the emotion of disgust. Nothing she says quite grasps on her feelings, none of it can embody the disappointment of committing the murder of potential hundreds, just to espouse his love.
"They...wanted havoc...let them..." His speech slurs further. "That way...us...together." His eyes close.
"But...this is not what I wanted." She finally whispers those words, but it's already too late. She can already feel his pulse making its last, pitiful beats. He exhales one last time, and then all is quiet. She rises again, grabbing what remained of the bodybags. Half of the men on this floor were given bags, but the rest could not be just left there. She found sheets in the hospital beds and wrapped another two in them. When she finally reached the perpetrator, the lover of the Sandman, there was nothing suitable left. The plastic wrap was insufficient, and labcoats were not able to seal in the body.
In the end, she merely crosses his arms and closes his legs. She then draws close to the dead man and plants a faint kiss using the filter touching the forehead. The samples were all stored in a nearby tub, which she carried back with her bat.

Sadasako returns to the entrance with the samples and hands them to the Commissioner. She bows, "I'm sorry, Commissioner, but the man..." He puts a gloved hand on her hair, pulling it back.
"You did good out there. Now come on, we need to give these to the department." She nods and dutifully follows her uncle outside. The crowds are still out there, screaming about the gunshots, the possibility of something terrible in there. The press still tries to pester them, but the shut door is enough to scare them off.
"Uncle, can I take this off now?" She asks. He nods, and she removes the gasmask. "Will we be handing in the recording?"
"We will." The gasmask had a video camera stored in it, recording her investigations. When she hands in the samples, she also has to hand in the mask's recordings.

>>49493609
When the two returned to their apartment, Sadasako found herself unusually clingy with her uncle - she was grabbing his arm the entire time, only letting go to eat dinner.
"Is something the matter, Sadasako?" he asks.
"Uncle, is it normal to do something insane for someone they love?"
"What brings this up?"
She looks at him. "That man, at the center... He said that he did it because he wanted everyone to love...the Sandman like he did."
Her uncle took a moment to think about it. If this man really was the perpetrator, then he attacked that CDC center for a love of death, a need to show this love to others. That was insane, alright, but so was his brother, who decided to tamper with his unborn daughter's genetics to the point that disease meant nothing to her. He risked her life to make sure she was healthy, and even if it was successful, it was still incredibly risky, both to her mother and the child.
"That man...he didn't understand what he was doing." He figures out his answer. "He was showing off. He didn't really consider what happened to other people because of his actions."
"But what does that mean about me?" His niece points to herself.
"My brother...your father did something dangerous, yes, but he did it to make sure you were the happiest girl you could be. He protected you from everyone that wanted to take you away from your family. I don't like how he did it, but...I'm glad that you're here with me, Sadasako. Don't forget that." In the days following her father's death, there were countless organizations who wanted to study her unique genes like she was some lab rat. It was thanks to her uncle and her father's will that she was even able to live the peaceful life she had.
After dinner, Sadasako began feeling a little less clingy, but she still wanted to hug her uncle. As she does, she mutters, "Thank you, Uncle. Thank you, Dad."
He smirks. "You don't ever need to thank me. As long as we can be proud of you, I'll always be there for you."

>>49495041

When the world began there was naught but the twisting seas and the great god spirit, Urya. Urya controlled all, the waves and the sky but soon grew weary of its solitude and set out to create. Slowly the sea grew to be inhabited by numerous creatures, until the dread serpent, Hyore was created. The serpent was forceful and filled with purest rage against its creator, so Urya sealed it, and the sees under a barrier of darkness, leaving the sea and all that dwell there trapped away from the skies, which Urya claimed as its own.

Both were in control of their own domains, however, the covetous serpent was unsatisfied with its life in darkness and lashed out of the waters, striking toward the sky that Urya controlled. With each strike the barrier of the sky grew weaker and weaker until, eventually it shattered, spilling Urya's great throne into the sea. Hyore had grown stronger, fed on hatred and on the destruction of Urya's other creations. The two forces struggled against each other, but Hyore had grown too powerful and could not be defeated. Seeing this, Urya created its children, splitting itself into the parts that composed its duality. The goddess Dami, ruler of the seas and her twin brother, Renu king of the skies.

The two gods struggled against the force of chaos, Renu wielding his great mace, imbued with the wrath of the sky itself and Dami, twisting the forces of the seas to her will with her staff, set with a piece of the moon itself.

The battle raged on for days, weeks, perhaps millennia as the push and pull of the struggle continued. With a final mighty strike Hyore was ended and, as its last act, regurgitated the creations which it had consumed.

>>49495892

cont.


With the dread serpent dead the two gods assumed there domains of sky and sea. Each however, left a guardian of their own, to watch over each other. Dami created the moon and called it Venu, or "watchman" and Renu created the stars and their reflections on the water. He thus called them Uryan or "dualities"

However, there was a problem. The pieces of the barrier to the sky had sunk into the sea and produced great protruding masses of land. The twin gods convened and came to decide that a creation of there father should come to take the land as its own. They called these beings "Humana" and watched over them as they grew.

It is said in prophesy that when the black moon rises over the daytime sky, Hyore has returned and that the two gods repeat their struggle for the fate of all humana and that which we know.

*The Paladin gets back to his feet, handing the boy at the front of his audience of little ones and passers by a small charm of a crescent moon, the dark space filled by a constellation of stars*

Now, I must go. I have duties to attend to in service of our lord Renu.

AND
FUCKING
SCENE

How did I do guys?

>>49482263
I feel like this could be told interestingly with the sword nuns as the villains and still tell the story through their perspective, maybe even play around with 1st person for this one. If this thread is still around later I'll see what I can do, right now, I've got a headache that's kicking my ass.

>>49487341
Tolkien quality descriptions. Very well done

>>49495295
That night, the Commissioner decided to have a drink. He looks out of his window in the kitchen with a glass in his hand. The night sky was desolate, bleak save for a few stars here and there. "I don't regret taking her in for even a second," he talks to himself. "But...I regret that you couldn't see how your little girl's growing up. I'm sure you'd have been proud of her."

The next morning, life continued for Sadasako and her uncle, as if last night was just some common occurrence.
"Uncle," she starts as she's about to leave for school. "I need to say something."
"What?"
"It's about last night." She pauses. "I know that I don't have to worry about my well-being, but...I have been thinking about everyone around me. I would be worried if anything happened to you, Uncle."
The old man smiles. "You're already a splendid girl. When you grow up, I know that your parents won't have to worry because I won't. I love you, my dear niece."
Again, her face blushes. "Thank you, Uncle."

>END

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>>49478627

Okay, I have a story from a campaign I'm currently involved in.

So we're playing D&D 3.5, no splatbooks. Basic stuff, no books of weeaboo fightin' magic or any of that. All four of us started out at level 1. Our party consisted of a paladin who had more conversational skill than combat ability, a barbarian that didn't use weapons, like, at all, an angry, cynical dwarf who was armed to the teeth, and a wizard who was basically useless in combat (as all level 1 wizards are apt to be).

The premise was this: a merchant was looking to hire qualified individuals for protecting his business assets and for "loss mitigation" -- whatever that meant. An honest day's pay for an honest day's work. All of the characters individually heard about the opportunity and signed up without getting any specific details on what exactly it was that they were agreeing to. They assembled together at his caravan the morning it was scheduled to set off.

The merchant (a little halfling by the name of Brimly) climbed on top of a cart and started explaining what it was that the party was doing.

"Now I am sure you are all wondering why it is I assembled you here. Well, let me explain. About two weeks' travel from here I have acquired a most valuable asset. I purchased a few acres of pristine mudflats! It has exquisite clay deposits that make the highest quality porcelain that you have ever seen! Look at this, isn't this the finest creamy hue?"

Brimly held up a porcelain plate some six inches from the face of the dwarf, a fighter named Dabab.

"Actually I've seen better. The kaolinite content isn't enough, you need even firing for the smooth texture and off-beige that most people want."

Brimly gave Dabab the most fierce scowl before Johann von Krugger, the paladin, stepped in.

"Well I like it. Anyway, we aren't here to debate the subtle points of tableware. We're here to do 'loss mitigation'. Could you tell us what that means?"

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>>49497274

"Ugh, fine. See, I've had workmen out there working the kilns before, but it seems that there have been a few complications. Nothing too serious, I just need you lot to set things straight."

Grimauld the wizard piped up,
"What do you mean 'complications?' That doesn't sound good."

"Some wildlife trouble. Nothing to be worried about."

Johann looked perplexed for a moment, then asked,

"If it is nothing to be worried about, why bring us along?"

Brimly had a look of pain on his face, paused for a moment, and then explained the true nature of his "complications." Turns out that his operation had a little wildlife problem. And by little, Brimly meant big. And by wildlife, he meant bear. And by problem, he meant eating all of his workers and grinding production to a halt. It was the party's job to find the big bear eating all his workers and grinding production to a halt and to kill it. If this sounds simple, you overestimate the group's competence.

So they all left town with the mud merchant and his (new) workers and headed over to his property. The trip was long and, for the most part, uneventful. The only thing really to note is the "displays of skill" that Debab and Grimauld tried to put on. Emphasis on the word "tried."

About four days into the journey, as the caravan stopped to make camp for the night, Grimauld spotted a rabbit just off the road. Wanting to impress his companions and enjoy a cooked rabbit for dinner, he proposed a competition. He wagered a copper that he could kill the rabbit with a simple cantrip. Dabab threw his helmet into the ring, so to speak, and bet another copper that he could kill it with his javelin after the weakling wizard failed.

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>>49497328

So Grimauld attempted to cast ray of frost on the rabbit. Now, see, here's the thing. Ray of frost is a spell that requires aim. Grimauld couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with it, so naturally he failed, much to his embarrassment. The ray hit just behind the rabbit, startling it and making it run off towards a small clearing presently occupied by Lothar the barbarian. Dabad acted quickly and threw one of his javelins (he had several), but only managed to get it jammed in the side of a cart.

The rabbit hopped off in the direction of Lothar who promptly A.) stomped it, B.) picked it up and C.) bit the head off.

Other than that, the journey progressed and the gang soon arrived at their destination. The workmen unloaded all their tools, shovels, axes, bags of grain, crates and what have you, and prepared to turn a few shacks next to the pottery kilns into suitable barracks. While they were doing that, the party started familiarizing themselves with the surrounding terrain.

Now, no one really knew anything about bears. But Johann claimed to be an aristocrat and said that he knew a little about hunting, so everyone else might as well follow him. Dabad said that he couldn't give two shits what aristocratic lineage Johann was from, just because he was born with a silver spoon up his ass doesn't mean that he gets to call the shots. But Johann seemed to know what he was doing at least, so after some bickering, the merry band of adventurers fell in line and followed Johann's lead. At a little before sunset, after some six hours of searching, the group ran into the bear. Literally.

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>>49497336

See, here is the thing about party coordination, it isn't just a balance of classes and skill sets. Actually, it is more about COORDINATION, as in, working together, coming up with a plan together, executing it TOGETHER. Party coordination did not occur.
Immediately after spotting the bear, Lothar did the intelligent thing and charged straight at it, yelling like a madman. Lothar was unarmed, by the way. Lothar no use weapons, Lothar like killing with bare hands. Bear hands. Ha ha Lothar made joke. The bear, predictably, reciprocated and started running towards the group. Now, Johann and Dabab were hesitant about what to do. See, Dabab learned in dwarf fighting school to play it slow and steady, use his big ass tower shield and scalemail armor to his advantage, and gradually wear the opponent down. Johann thought that was also a good idea, but seeing as how Lothar had already broken away from the group, all he could do was follow the mad barbarian and to hope to be of some use. He unsheathed his great sword and charged.
Grimauld, using his superior wizard intellect, had foreseen the encounter with the bear and had SPECIALLY PREPARED for just that moment. Waving his hands in the air, he cast the ultimate spell for just that occasion -- grease. Specifically, he cast grease right smack dab in the middle between Lothar and Johann on the one hand and the bear on the other. The bear ran into it, started to skid, spun over on his back, and slipped at full speed towards the party. Now, Johann was able to stop before he hit the grease, but Lothar didn't seem to care. He plowed right into the bear and was knocked over like a bowling pin.

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>>49497355

Lothar flailed his arms around in panic, grabbed hold of the bear's fur, and held on tight. He climbed onto the bear's back and began to grapple with it. Dabab ran over to the edge of the grease spell's area, pulled out a javelin and tossed it into one of the bear's legs. Lothar got the bear into a headlock and began to squeeze as much as he could. Dabab readied another javelin and tossed it...straight into Lothar's arm, piercing right through it and hitting the bear in the throat, effectively pinning Lothar's arm to the bear.

It was at this juncture that Johann ran over to assist Lothar, slipped, and skidded some ten feet. Grimauld also tried to "help" with an acid splash, but ended up hitting Lothar in the face with it. Lothar started screaming and continued to squeeze the bear's neck until everyone heard this nasty snapping sound, followed by a little pumpf as the bear's head ragdolled onto the ground. Still screaming, he ripped the javelin from his arm, tried to get up, slipped, tried to get up again, succeeded, pulled out a knife and started to skin the bear on the spot.

In fact, he didn't really stop screaming until he had cut off the damn thing's head and had gotten a fair ways through ripping the hide off. He then placed the bloody and mangled bear head on top of his own head as some kind of morbid hat, threw the skin over his shoulders like a cloak, and started walking back to the caravan. This took literally like 25 minutes and during the whole time no one else said a peep.

They returned just as the last light of day was disappearing. The party went to Brimly to inform him of the, ahem, results of the expedition. But words were hardly necessary. Brimly took one glance at Lothar, covered in blood with a severed head as a helmet, and asked,

"Who the fuck are you people?"

Dabab looked at Johann, all covered in grease and dirt, gave him the most shit-eating grin imaginable, turned to Brimly and said,

"We're the Aristocrats!"

>>49490193
>>49490368
>>49490525
>>49490657
>>49490763

That's a pretty nice story you did author, but I'm afraid the image you based it off >>49485956, has a different context.

That was a drawing request from a drawthread and according to the artist and the requester, that's suppose to be a family pic. And honestly I was expecting a family story with that pic. But hey that was still a neat story though, just wished you were much more clearer on who's who and give the captain and the diplomat a name; and especially you gave info on who diplomat really is considering she does'nt look too human judging by her eyes.

Also may I reuqest any other author to make a family story for pic related? = >>49485956

>>49497660
Honestly, I'm disappointed in myself. I wrote it in the dead of night and didn't bother to go back through my first draft to fix anything and just posted it raw.

Alisryth stared at the mon'keigh brute sitting opposite to him, her features portraying the deep disgust she felt towards it. Truly the humans were like cattle. It made him feel revolted and sick watching the thing hork down the 'food'.

He wondered if it tasted as bad bad as it smelled, for it smelled awful. He debated asking the human if it was made of excrement, and declined. Truth be told He really didn't want to know. Alisyrth bitterly cursed Isha. When the news had come to the craftworld that the goddess had returned to the eldar, freed from her imprisonment in the horrors of the warp, he had rejoiced alongside his kin. They had feasted and drunk and made love to celebrate the return of their goddess. The eldar were finally on the rise after so many years.

The goddess herself had returned to lead them to a better age. That the farseers had not forseen this didn't matter. The resonant feeling of joy that had touched every eldar soul was proof enough that Isha had returned to her children. He had signed up as a guardian after that, setting aside his path as a healer for a time. The goddess asked for their aid, and Alisyrth would answer her call.

When word reached him that Isha had brokered an alliance with the living corpse the humans worshipped as a god, Alisyrth didn't bother. The goddess, kind hearted as she was was surely manipulating the gullible humans like her children had done. She wouldn't lower herself to marry such an abomination, despite her boundless love for her children.

Now, Alisyrth was not so sure. He was helping the human man one of their crude contraptions they called a heavy bolter. It lacked the finesse of a construct made from wraithbone, and the sound it made was as obnoxious as those made by the orks they fought. Still it was an effective weapon, that was capable of blowing orks to bits. And he was surrounded by enough humans to stay safe from harm.

>>49500467


He coughed a little and looked at the human sharing the crude contraption with him. A female, Alisyrth surmised, as it didn't have hair growing from it's chin or lips. What hair it did have was a rather pleasant red, that went well with the color of it's eyes, a blue hue that was quite charming to look at.

For her charms, she was quite , well, human. Her face was too round, her body was too thick and her expression too dumbfounded. The mon'keigh would barely be able able to communicate with him during combat, daring to shout orders at him while she fired her loud contraption. Still, Alisyrth was content enough to be sitting here at the back, away from the front trenches where more humans were burrowing and trying to desperately stop the next orkish wave.

To their credit, the humans worked surprisingly well as a team. Alisyrth had thought that the humans were a squabbling bunch that existed only to win through raw numbers, and were used by the craftworlds to their own ends, rather like orcs. That they were capable of advanced tactical thinking was something he was not aware of.

Still for all their crude intelligence, they were still beasts that walked upright. The human seemed to be eating her disgusting slop with gusto, spilling it all over her armor. He had to do something, if only to keep boredom away.

"You know, human. You can actually chew food with your teeth before you swallow it. I suppose it takes getting used to but you should keep at it. After all, you can pretend you are capable of thinking."

>>49500467
You forgot to link to the image.

>>49500483

The human stopped eating and stared at him with a mixture of fright and awe. Her eyes became as large as soulstones and she stared directly at him for an awfully long time before she said

"Ifs eafier to swaww..."

If she had insulted his mother, she would have received a warmer reply. As such Alisyrth was furious at the way the human deemed to insult him for his helpful advice.

"Are you some kind of exceptionally stupid animal? Isha's mercy, I have seen milch animals have more grace than you. Your kind is a disgrace upon the stars and I am appalled that I, the scion of the eldest race am forced to be here to watch your kind try and stop the orks. Your kind is unworthy on even standing upon one of our maiden worlds, and yet here you are, sullying the world with your disgusting slop and the excrement that you call food"

Alisyrth stopped and took a deep breath. His outburst had turned every human nearby to look at him, and suddenly he was aware of how outnumbered he was. He was no exarch, and the humans would overpower him and he would be at their mercy.

"What did you say?" She had finished eating her food and had gotten up, and was looking down on him with her hands upon her hips Her expression was that of puzzlement, and for a moment Alisyrth couldn't understand why.

Then it dawned on him. His outburst was in the high tongue. No wonder the humans couldn't understand him. The poor brutes were incapable of understanding what he said. He laughed a little. Insulting the mon'keigh to their faces when they couldn't understand him would be a rather enjoyable experience.

"I was simply saying that it is kind of your people to help this world by shedding your blood while you fight the orcs. you are not as bad as I thought you were, although it would be better if you actually slowly chewed your food instead of slurping it down. It goes ill with your radiant face miss..."

The human blushed and turned into a delicate shade of pink, She had rightly assumed that what Alisyrth was saying was not flattering but she hadn't expected to be complimented, not by an eldar anyway.

"Marcelline, but everyone calls me Marc." She signalled to the rest of the assembled Mon'keigh and they went back to their holes . By Vaul, did the humans not have any deflectors or shields to take cover behind?

"Besides, this is designed to go down easily. Sure, it is filling and keeps us in the fight. It could use some salt though."

It took Alisyrth a moment to realize that the human was talking to him. Gloating over his close shave with the mon'keigh, he had forgotten that the two of them were isolated from the rest of the group.

"Oh, yes, yes. I assumed so. As long as I don't have to eat it, I can keep singing it's praises. It looks rather unappetizing though, I will admit. I do not blame you for eating it as fast as you did."

The human was taken aback somewhat more than Alisyrth at that. His mind had contrived that subconsciously, and the human was still processing it. After a few moments, she laughed a little at his verbal riposte.

Seeing as he had nothing better to do, he decided to talk to her.

"So Marcelline - "

"Call me Marc, it's easier in combat, and I have gotten used to the name."

"Very well then. So Marc. What do you actually like eating? I hope for your sake that it is at least solid or something you can chew on."

She paused for a few seconds before answering.

"The food they give on emperor's day is better than standard rations. We generally eat better when we are off frontline duty or back on the troopships.

Well not so much better as warmer, I would say. Sometimes we get extra rations of drink as well."

>>49500486
what image?

>>49500513

His horror and shock at human food must have been showing on his face because Marc quickly stopped and reassured him.

"Not all human food is that bad. I once had a pastry when we were allowed to recuperate on a paradise world. It cost me a year and a half's pay, but it was worth it. It was just the sweetest thing, and it melted in my mouth. I only wish it was a bit bigger, y'know?"

Alisyrth was speechless. He had no idea the humans lived such miserable lives. In spite of himself he felt pity for Marcelline at that moment. If you had to beggar yourself to eat a little sweetmeat, what kind of monstrous regime were you living in?

"So, what's your favorite food?"

He composed himself for a moment before answering.

"Liasha. It's not exactly a food, per se. rather it is a drink made from aiolym fruit that have been plucked when they just begin to ripen. Their bitterness passes into a sweet sourness and their pulp is delicious. It is mixed with the honey that the songbirds make and stored deep in the craftworld's vault for a century or more. On the nights when we honor our gods and those who have sacrificed for us, we breach those casks and drink. It is of great significance to our people as the taste of honey reminds us of our days of glory, the bitterness the horrors of our fall, and the sour sweetness that holds the promise of rebirth."

The human was staring at her with that expression again, only her fear was largely gone and replaced by awe. He assumed the humans didn't put any significance on what they consumed, and after seeing her eat what she ate, Alisyrth could hardly blame them.

"Contact, Ork mob, heading straight ahead!" The shout brought both of them into the present, and away from their contemplative moods.

The orks, as numerous as they were dumb were advancing upon the human positions. Most of them were armed with a few crude axes and blades, comically oversized even for the brutes. A few of them were armed with what looked like even cruder versions of the human weapons. Whereas the human weapons looked sturdy, the ork ones were ramshackle to an extreme.

What the orks lacked in equipment, they made up for in sheer bloodlust. Alisyrth could see several human heads and skulls adorning the orks like grisly trophies. If the humans were daunted by this display they gave no sign of it.

They waited until the orcs were close and then they shot volleys of las fire from their trenches. The orcs kept bowling over as they died and the orcs behind them trampled their comrades as they rushed to get to grips with the human line.

They were almost upon the trenches when Marc opened fire. The ork line buckled as the bolter fire ripped into it from it's enfilading position.
The orks were torn into gory chunks. The carnage was far higher than Alisyrth had anticipated. His job was to ensure that the bolter had a steady supply of ammunition as Marcelline kept firing. It was a tedious job, but it was also interesting seeing how the humans fought.

Marcelline's jaw was set and her brows furrowed as she kept shooting into the ork mob. Caught between two sides, the ork line began to buckle and mill about. Hapazard fire from the ork shooters directed at the bolter was the only returning fire they could offer. The orks would doubtless break soon and run away.

Alisyrth would be relieved soon enough by someone else. Almost idly he wondered what the woman next to him liked to eat. It was curious, seeing a human who was so tongue tied while talking to him, while at the same time be so calm and collected in the heat of battle. He wondered if humans had war masks that made them like that.

His reverie was cut when a shout of "GRENADE!" went up. In slow motion, Alisyrth watched as a grenade floated up towards him. He caught it with his outstretched hand and tossed it back towards the offending ork. He was rewarded with the ork going up in a puff of smoke and blood.

What came next was panic inducing. At least a dozen grenades were chucked at the bolter position. The orks didn't even duck for cover as the fire from the trenches cut into the remaining beasts.

Most of them fell around the gun, but one of them fell right behind the two of them. The grenade would explode nearly instantly, killing the two of them if they were upright.

Alisyrth grabbed Marcelline and hit the dirt. The band was deafening, and the hot shrapnel falling on his fingers was excruciatingly painful. Alisyrth counted till ten and got up. Marcelline had been hit rather badly. She was bleeding all over her side. Not caring to look at his injuries, Alisyrth cradled her on his lap and tore off part of his cloak to act as a makeshift bandage.

After an hour, when the replacements came to relieve the platoon, the guardsmen were surprised to see an eldar cradling an injured soldier in his arms. Her condition was steadily worsening and it was clear that without triage she would die soon.

The eldar followed the wounded and dying guardswoman back to the rear lines, and while it raised a few eyebrows most guardsmen were focused on the threat ahead of them. The orks were amassing again for another push, and the emperor demanded that the green tide be pushed back to help their new allies.

At the end of the day, no matter what the gods and masters of the galaxy wanted, blood would be shed. It was perhaps the only constant in a galaxy in the midst of conflict. All guardsmen needed to know was the most important truth. They were men and women of the imperial guard, and no matter what their friends or foes were, at the end of the day, they held the line, and they died standing.

>>49500970
Fallen

A blinding flash followed by a resounding boom. Then the feeling set in, like a thousand pins had flown into each and every nerve in her body. Voices. Voices saying things she couldn't distinguish apart from a few words. "Targeted" "Infection" "Amputate" A bright light...

Little Sandra awoke staring into a blinding light. For a second she wondered if she had died, if all that commotion was her last memory on Earth. Slowly her vision focused and the comfortingly mundane image of a cabinet, made of simple wood on the other side of the room came into view, followed the sensation of the small hospital bed beneath her. A stand of her fiery orange hair had shifted in front of her eye as she sat up. She tried to brush it away. Nothing. A second time. Nothing. Sandra looked down toward her left arm, or where it should have been. It was gone.

For a moment she panicked, sitting up even straighter until she felt a pain in her abdomen. The sensation brought her back to reality. Taking another look around, she was in a room with no windows. The room was well kept, each of the walls gleamed a porcelain white. Taking another look there were five other beds scattered across the room in an orderly fashion. She felt alright, except, oh god, her arm! Her wing! And where was she? Sandra started to panic again, waving her remaining arm and trying to get untangled from the thin blue sheet over her legs.

>>49501508
cont.


The door swung open and in came a dark skinned woman, clad in a white dress that came down to her knees.
"Calm down. It's alright. You're safe here," her voice was soothing, like a soft breeze Sandra could just spread her wings and... oh.
"Why should I be calm? Where am I? Who are you? What happened to my wing?" Tears had started to well in the scared girl's eyes, and she did her best to slide on the bed away from this nurse.
"I'm Lisa, I'm just a doctor. Nothing to be scared of. You're in the ship's infirmary for recovery," the calm lilt stayed in her voice, even as Sandra's tears started to slide down her cheeks, leaving little trails of sparkling droplets.
"Sh-ship?" She was starting to calm down.
"The CTS Cerulean. Only one of the finest steam powered patrol ships in the entire fleet!" Lisa seemed very proud of the ship and her station on it, raising her voice as she declared them to be of such caliber. He voice faded to a combination of embarrassment and regret, "and it's our fault your wing is gone."
Sandra was stunned, now just staring at her bandaged shoulder where the base of her wing, fiery orange like her hair, should be.
"There's someone I think you should meet.
Cont. further later, its the middle of the night and I need to take a break.

>>49478627
bump

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>>49502104
you really only need a bump every three of four hours at this time of day. Also, bump with pictures, otherwise it's just a wasted post.

>>49480766
The hallway was so old that it should by all rights have been reduced to dust; the very stone upon which it was built seemed to have rotten as it crumbled beneath my feet. A whisper of a breeze moved through the cracks in the walls, carrying with it the terrible chill that had been slowly spreading over the southern peninsula. There was not a flicker of life to be seen in any direction. Even the wind was a whimper of its old roar, with not a single tree to whistle through. The fertile black soil had long since been turned to white powdered chalk, dyeing everything foul grey as the water receded back into the sea.

My memories were vague, fleeting, but I could recall a time when the dilapidated fortress was called the garden eternal, and how every inch of the stones was once overgrown with flowers. Lush and green, smattered with so many colours we could hardly find names for them all. It was no use trying to wear a mask of indifference. Nobody was left to see it, and perhaps I would have taken comfort in the sadness after feeling so little for so long. I could hardly even remember what 'green' looked like.

One hundred and eighteen thousand years have passed since I became immortal. Upon reflection, I wouldn't have been so eager to cast off my humanity had I been born a century or so later. I was only two hundred when I began to notice signs of the coming decay of the world. To anyone who spends the time listening to the trees and the stones, it would have been clear. I was just too naive to see it.

I was born human, though I have no evidence of this. I surmise that the only proof I have is the fact that I've forgotten. The human mind was not made to last forever. It only took a few centuries for my mind to fade and become fragmented, little glimpses of previous lives washed away by the next like so many winters washed away by the spring.

What I do remember is the last winter, when spring never came. The last winter I spent with her, the other.

(cont.)

>>49502920
She was eternal, like me. If I met any others, I had forgotten. We must have encountered many times in our long lives, as I remember her by many names. Most vivid in my mind was 'Nohl', but I do remember saying vows more than once to someone named 'Friese'. I traveled with a 'Sara', and fought the ninth great war with a woman by the name of 'Reiga'. I suppose we should be grateful our bodies outlived most of our memories. We must have lived many lives together.

I had resigned myself to sleep in a frozen cavern some years ago, and decided I would simply wait for the rest of the world to turn to dust. Of course she didn't join me; she still found the humans so fascinating, even after they had all given up on building and creating. Right up until the last few were freezing to death searching the chalk wastes for paradise, she never stopped watching them. Perhaps she had forgotten more than I had about her humanity, or maybe she simply didn't get bored of seeing the patterns in people that I did. She might have hated me for giving up on them too, but if so she never said it. Humanity only lasted roughly thirty thousand years, and the rest of the world didn't last another five. Perhaps she wanted to be around in case life sprang up again as it so often does.

It's been only a few months since I was roused from my sleep. The world had gone quiet, and hearing her voice over the silence was more than enough to wake me. I held onto that sound and searched tirelessly in all the time since I woke, nothing driving me other than the idea that there might be something other than myself left in this world.

I was pleased when her voice led me to the ruins of the garden. Not all of it could be brought back, but just seeing the cobblestones was enough to make me nostalgic for the time we spent there.

I followed her voice down the only hallway still intact, my ragged clothes barely clinging to my body as the wretched cold tried in vain to make me shiver.

(cont.)

File: 1470113428803.png (509KB, 1024x1024px) Image search: [Google]

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I'm feeling creatively burned out on this book I'm writing (its almost finished).

What's something you guys do to creatively recharge?

>>49503040
In all of the many years I had wandered and observed the earth, never had I seen anything quite like what greeted me with a smile in the chamber at the end of the hallway.

She was there. It could only be her, but she had taken on a new shape. Wings like a butterfly's, skin pale as the chalk, and eyes that saw nothing. Such an ironic shape to choose, given how early on the butterflies ceased to be.

She might have had a voice, she might not. The words echoed from every direction all the same.

"I've missed you, Voh."

I struggled, but I could not ascertain whether that was my previous name or not. So much of it was a haze, not unlike watching the horizon flatten underneath the never-ending torrent of white chalk.

"And I you." I answered, barely a whisper. I hardly needed to speak to be heard. It was so quiet that my thoughts might have even been audible.

While she still bore a vague resemblance to her former imitation of humanity, it was clear that she thought a human shape no longer suited her. She seemed content with her new form, if a little lost. She didn't give an explanation for the crude shackles at her wrists, and I didn't ask; I was doubtful she could remember.

"You've felt it, haven't you?" The words appeared in my mind, and I nodded. Even if she was blind, she would have heard the movement. "Then you remember, maybe?" I tilted my head, puzzled.

"So you've found it, then?" I asked simply. She would know what I meant.

"Yes." she nodded, and her wings fluttered ever so slightly as she gestured to the old blade I had dragged halfheartedly into the garden. "That will do."

I wasn't sure why I had gotten so attached to the old weapon. I didn't know how old it was. It might have been from when I was human, or it might have been something that belonged to someone I liked. Whatever the case, there were no battles left to fight.

"If we want to end..." She began, "...We must do it together. That's all there is to it."

(cont.)

>>49503043
Writefagging.

>>49503162
"It was that simple, all along?" I exclaimed, the sound so loud it might as well have been a thunderclap. I recoiled at my own voice, and even she shuddered. I had completely forgotten what that feeling of shock and alarm was like. I was almost tempted to shout again.

"Yes. It's that simple." She replied some time later. "Our lives are sustained by the earth, and bound together." Her wings ruffled anxiously, the colours playing across them like oil over water. "We've been borrowing it for too long." she sighed, and composed herself again. "It's time to give it back."

How didn't I see it? So many cultures had already said as much. You take your life from the earth at birth, and in death you pass it on. After so long, of course there was decay. We had been doing nothing but taking.

As though they served no purpose at all, she slipped out of her shackles and collapsed to the floor, her iridescent wings billowing down after like great sheets of silk. She began trying to stand, but I doubt her new legs could bear the weight.

I walked over, and as I drew closer I could see roots forming at her feet as though out of anticipation.

Very carefully, she reached out with her sinuous white arm and took gentle hold of the old sword. Her arm stretched and cracked to suit its new purpose, raising the corroded old blade high above both of our heads.

I began to allow my shape to unravel too, but she shook her head.

"Humanity suits you."

She drew me in close and took hold with her other arm, the first time I had felt warmth in millennia. We both collapsed to the cold floor and she wrapped her wings around us both as she lay on top of me, our imitation of the sword of Damocles poised carefully overhead.

I felt nothing as I heard the heavy iron whistle though the air, but I swear that what ran between the cobblestones after was fresh, clean water. The room finally began to crumble as the water rose, and algae began to form on the broken stone.

>>49503311
Unless you've got a really good reason (which from this story, you don't) just use 'said' instead of stuff like 'exclaimed/answered/whatever'

And manage your adverbs better. Adverbs aren't something you want to overuse.

File: OperationSpiderLust.png (2MB, 2056x7855px) Image search: [Google]

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So guys what do you think of my two previous stories I did previous storythread?

https://1d4chan.org/images/e/ea/OperationSpiderLust.png

and

https://1d4chan.org/images/9/9a/DressToImpress.png

Just wana get some thoughts about these two tales because I sort of posted and completed them late, not giving people who read the previous thread a time to fully read it.

How'd you find 'em?

>>49478627

Also Chronicler, I'm quite surprised you added this to the story archives:

https://1d4chan.org/images/8/8c/RedWall.png

I think that was meant as a funniez shitpost, but I guess I'll take it that you know Metal Gear, Metal Gear Rising and all the fucking invincible nano-memes involving it which is also the DNA of the soul right?

>>49503337
Yeah, you're right. That's the sort of thing I would go back over if I could come back to edit later. I usually let my work sit for a while before going back in to edit but I want to work on my improv. I'm also guilty of having favorite words, most of which are adverbs. I probably should have slowed down a bit, in hindsight.

Thanks for replying straight away with useful criticism though, I wasn't expecting that at this hour. Really cool of you.

>>49503396
No problem. It's something I'm being stricter about in my own work.

>>49499354
"They come! Brothers, rise up in violent rebel and drive away our evil gods!" screamed out Tarogg in defiance of his fate.

It was a time filled with terror and blood, the soul beneath their feet toxic and unable to uphold life. Their skins discolored by the polluted air and spines curved and weak from years of crawling before these tusked monstrosities. The monsters would come every winter to feast on their tribe, leaving behind but one corpse of their own kind, bloodied and beaten by the others. Perhaps it was a way to make new leaders, perhaps it was just their violent tendencies, but every year it was only one corpse. One corpse of gigantic size that the surviving tribals would scavenge and preserve to survive the winter. They felt embraced, as if the lives lost were a sacrifice for the beasts to give them the means to survive the harsh winters. They had learned to hide, to leave the unwanted and the chosen to be torn asunder and to be sacrificed. This continued for years, decades and centuries. This was the 500th year of sacrifice when something change. There was no corpse this year.

cont.

>>49503687
The winter took it's toll, but the tribe considered this a punishment from their gods. Some survived, but at the cost of cannibalizing their kin, others left the tribe in fear of death or from determination to find a new home, a better home. They were never seen again. The tribe couldn't understand why this has happened to them. Has their sacrifices not been sufficient? Once the winter had gone, the tribe has determined to sacrifice more of their own this year to the beasts in hopes that they would this time leave their boon. Winter came and more people had sacrificed themselves for naught, as the beasts left satisfied and their pack whole. Another loss to the tribe whose numbers had been reduced to a bare few. Next winter they would gather animals to fill their role in the sacrifice. This had proven useless too, as the beasts gorged themselves on fatty meat, leaving nothing but some blood behind from their meals. The tribe was dying, the bare few had turned into a dozen. Their chances of survival was not guaranteed and the dozen dwindled every passing week by one, leaving only a single member of the tribe alive after these three harsh years: Toragg, son of Kosagg and Andagg, Hunter to Be and now the Last Son. He crawled from his home covered in scavenged furs and leathers to stave off the cold and marched to the hunting grounds, in hopes of finding something to feed on. He was young and inexperienced, but shear determination for life kept his senses sharp and methods working. Like a beast he would lay in ambush under a layer of snow and excrement to hide his scent and presence, waiting with bated breath for a small animal to come near to be crushed under his body. This honed him into a mighty hunter as he learned the tactics of other carnivores who did not hibernate, carving out a powerful body despite his weak and curved spine. He had become an animal as the other inhabitants of the forest and had survived a winter no other of his tribe could have.

con

>>49503778
Three years passed and Toragg would observe each of them as the beasts that had terrorized and sustained his family for many years rush through the empty cottages of his former home, not even stopping for one moment to wonder where their food had gone. With his being filled with vengeful rage towards his former gods, Toragg one year tracked where the beasts went to every winter. Stalking them from a distance, he followed the beasts rampage through forest and field, trampling the already desolate and barely livable land into a bleak dust filled wasteland. After weeks of tracking, Toragg and his quarry had reached the end of this bloody stampede: the hold of another tribe. Like with his tribe, the beasts tore apart any who did not run or hide, beat one of theirs to death and left for their own home. Toragg was baffled that his gods had abandoned him and his kin for this other tribe, but instead of seeking retribution, Toragg remained and he watched.

cont.

Taking a break for a few if anybody even cares at this point.

>>49503825
Toragg soon learned the routines of the tribe, the characteristics and people. It was much like his own, save for a traditions, but the likeness was eerie to say the least. Many of them shared names and roles and their home were almost an exact copy of Toragg's own. Some of his old tribe members who left had made home there, integrating so well it seemed that they had always been part of the tribe. Come winter, the beasts rampage, kill one of their own and leave. The tribe survives and prepares for the next year. This repeats for five times before the beasts refuse to kill one of their own for the tribe to feast on. Some remain, some leave and on the third winter the tribe gathers animals for the sacrifice in vain. The tribe dies out and the monsters forge on. Toragg tracks them once more to another tribe where this repeats, always with the same families leaving for another tribe to be spotted and observed by Toragg again. Toragg aged and his hatred for these beasts grew each passing year as he observed the same pattern repeat itself for almost five decades. He had adapted from all the tribes before him, learning secrets of their survival. He now walked upright with the help of a support on his back, learned the art of venom and poison, crafted weapons that spew fire without catching flame and studied the language of those who had come before him. Nearing his seventh decade, Toragg had grown weary and weak, unable to carry on. Seven decades of nothing but hateful observation and careful study, during which he had never taken a step towards his desire for revenge, biding his time for his justice to take form. He had now come to a new tribe, but instead of observing, he took action.

cont.

>>49503985
He was an anomaly, a freak. A man who had survived to grow old in a harsh land where nothing grows old. He strode high over the tribals who, like he and his kin before, crawled on all fours as their spines were bent and weak. Toragg made home in the center of the hold, living among the tribe as if an animal had made a nest none of the tribals wanted to shoo away. He stood among them a silent shadow that tailed them every opportunity, but both ignoring each other. Finally winter came and the tribe left their sacrifices as the rest went into hiding. Toragg followed those who were to survive this winter into their sanctuary. The tribe stared at the aged stranger before them, sitting calmly as a slaughter happened way from them. Once the thunderous roars of the feast had faded, the tribe returned to their home to find it ravaged, but with a supply of meat for them to preserve and survive with. Toragg stood there, finally opening his mouth to speak, something he had not done fore almost sixty years:
"This will not go on forever. They will stop coming and they will lead to your death. You must fight or die."

cont.

>>49504026
The tribe reeled back as this freak spoke their language with fluency. After the initial confusing had settled in, the tribe began to yell insults and curses at Toragg. Heretic, pagan, outsider, freak and many others Toragg was called. The tribals became violent towards him, but were too afraid to attack, instead throwing pebbles and mud at Toragg who withstood the petty assault. Finally the largest member of the tribe crawled forth and begun to talk. "The Gods have sustained us for hundreds of years for but a few lives sacrificed. You spit poison instead of words, trying to turn against our saviors. Even if we were to follow your blasphemous words, they are Gods, they are almighty and undying, we cannot defy them lest we want to destroy our families and burn away our legacy on the boiling blood of their rage. We have tolerated your unwelcome presence for long enough, but now you must leave or we will end your life with righteous fury!".

"Poetic, but misguided" said Toragg, "Your sharp tongue and quick wit are impressive, but you are just waiting for your death to come. I have followed these monsters for longer than any of you have lived and have seen how they operate. They lull you into obedience until their own numbers have been reduced by enough, at which point they stop providing their kin to you as food. They continue their bloody feast until you are few and disperse into the wilds, but before that you probably will herd animals for one year to replace your sacrifice of kin. Mark my words, you will die out unless you fight back. I have the means and knowledge to train you, but i lack my own strength as time has taking it's toll. But you will choose now, because i am tired: Will you continue your death march towards the extinction of your tribe and throw another rock at me or will you place your trust in my experience and have your tribe live for another hundred generations".

cont.

>>49504101
Toragg did not know if his methods would work or if the tribe would survive if they followed him, but he cared for neither. All he cared for was a chance at vengeance. The tribe was but a tool to him, a way to make his mark on the world by wiping out those who he had stalked for all of his life. Would this fail he would go to another tribe in hopes of persuading them to die for his sake and continue until he would finally keel over. The tribe was hesitant. They shuffled in a group, whispering and conversing about the situation. Was this stranger speaking the truth or was he an insane man trying to turn them away from their faith.

"You, the one who had the gull to actually talk, what is your name?"

The, still confused and taken back, stammers a few words before answering.

"...Meregg."

"I see that you are a bunch of fools, so i will grant you a day to actually decide. After that time, you, Meregg will come to me and give your answer. And if you are going to drive me a way, bring a large enough rock to kill me, because otherwise you will regret letting me live."

After saying that, Toragg walked off into the nearby wilderness to survive this winter. Meregg and the others were left to their own devices, to either tear themselves apart or to come together as one for an answer. Toragg made his habitat easily visible to all, so as he would be easily found. A day passed and Toragg sat in his small den, waiting for an answer, whether it be a rock or a man who couldn't even walk upright. The day turned into night and nobody had come either to drive him away or to beg for his teachings. Hiding in the shadows, he stalked the tribe who had completely ignored him, They simply continued their life as normal, much to the ire of Toragg. Gullible idiots he called them and prepared to leave, but he instead remained in the vicinity as the wilderness was more lively here than anywhere else he had come across.

>>49488809

The Biker Hero proceeded up the slightly longer flight of stairs leading to the third and final floor of the building. He/she kicked the door down which caused two thugs to rush at the Biker Hero with their melee weapons, to which the Biker easily eliminated with his/her Wakizashi. Another thug with an automatic weapon stepped out to try shooting at the Biker, only for the Biker to deftly throw a throwing knife to the thug's neck; killing him.

The biker Hero went for the room where that gun wielding thug came from, and there it was, the room the Biker's looking for which housed all the illegal narcotics that was said to be housed in this very abandoned warehouse by reliable sources he knew, and there was also the Cartel Boss, the rest of her gang and guards, and the unfortunate innocent victims who're exploited as Drug Mules.

The Crime Boss was a woman named Viktoria Cloven, a rich and spoiled woman who is the daughter of the lately deceased "Marky" and Zoe Cloven; who were her parents. Marky and Zoe were assassinated by The IIA ( Intercontinental Affairs Agency) when they were suspected and proven of crimes relating to drug, human and illegal weapons trafficking. Including extortion and racketeering but despite the death of Viktoria's parents, this did not stop her from following her evil parent's footsteps as she used her inherited wealth and the reputation of her parents to gain control of their assets. The local law enforcement agencies could only do very little as Viktoria was able to keep her tracks well hidden, thus she's not able to be prosecuted for any major crimes due to lack of evidences. But the IIA suspect that she may be guilty.

And the illegal drug in question is a designer drug that is known as "Liftoff", which was known to cause dulling of pain, hallucinations and a loss of a sense of time and chronology of events, but it had a dangerous tendency to cause organ or heart failure which was why they were dubbed as illegal drugs.

>>49504191
A year passed and the beasts stopped giving their own tribute to the tribe, as Toragg had predicted. He was now wearier than even and intended to remain in the wilderness, with dashed hopes of getting his desires fulfilled in a feast of blood. Once the third year come around, Toragg prepared to gather the remains of the now dead tribe, but something odd had happened. The tribe was still in nearly full strength and the beasts had left a tribute to them. Toragg was confused by this, what was different about this tribe where all the others had failed. Once the winter was over, Toragg stalked the tribe once more, observing them and following them. Over the spring and summer, Toragg had noticed that the tribe gained new members in their adulthood every week or so, but these members were treated like animals. The tribe numbered in hundreds and more and more member joined them. Only way that this would happen was for other tribes to integrate to them, but why would they do that was still a mystery. Another winter passed as Toragg was barely clinging to his ancient life. He stalked them once more and found out the secret of their survival and why the beasts still supplied them for the winter: the tribe had raided and enslaved other tribes to be placed as a sacrifice in their stead and larger tribes had formed an alliance with them and combining them. The number of the slaves grew with the tribe and eventually there were more than enough people to form a true nation. But Toragg cared none for that, for all he saw was finally a chance for revenge. His plan began as he got captured on purpose. He was enslaved and made to serve a family quickly, becoming nothing but a gawdy bauble for them to strut around with to showcase their superiority and status in the tribe. Toragg was still forced to sleep with other slaves, where he found a familiar face: Meregg who too was now a slave.

>>49504267
"I too was enslaved by my own brothers. Once i had mulled over your words, i realized that they rang true and with honesty in my heart i tried to contact you to teach us how to battle the Gods. But i was taken and forced to become a laborer for them, building them homes of stone and weapons of reshaped stone. They enslaved more from other tribes, made alliances and established communications with the Gods. Now they..." Meregg was interrupted by Toragg yelling "The beasts can talk!?"

"Of course they can, they are Gods, ascended from the mortal coil into immortality, sending their fleshen harbingers to provide us with nutrition. But they are evil and vicious, they care for only themselves. They speak with poetic words of nectar that turn people into into zealous cultists. It was a year after you left when..." Meregg continued on, but Toragg had stopped paying attention. He was now mulling over the information he had learned, that the beasts were smarted than he thought, perhaps even smarter than any human he had known or will know. But it mattered little, it only meant that his vengeance was that much harder to attain. And Toragg's plan had already began with his captured and the fact that he could easily speak to the slaves in secret. His plan was simply: A rebellion. Toragg began slowly gaining the trust of his fellow slaves, learning their names and lives before, creating an air of unity and brotherhood among them in the shadows, away from the eyes of the free tribals. They had started to steal small pieces of metal, stone and wood when they worked, learned secrets and methods from Toragg and had slowly started walking upright as him with the aid of the makeshift supports they bore on their backs while asleep. Toragg's health was growing weaker, but the slaves cared for him and made sure that he would live leisurely among them. Some slaves were caught for stealing and Toragg was almost caught himself once, but another was saved by the others.

cont.

>>49504356
Five winters passed and Toragg could barely walk. By chance or by fate, he was never chosen as a sacrifice while other slaves were carried away to be killed for the luxury of others. Toragg knew every slave by name, tribe and face. They were no longer captives and colleagues, but family. Brothers and sisters. But Toragg this entire time had only done it for the sake vengeance. He only thought this convenient as they would throw their lives away for him in the blink of an eye. Winter was coming once more and Toragg was chosen as a sacrifice for his charm as a bauble and an oddity had worn out with his skin that had turned ashen gray from age. As he stood defiant among those chosen for sacrifice, the remaining slaves were preparing to take their fate back into their own hands. Armed with fire, metal and poison, they sat silently in their homes, hidden from their masters, arming preparing themselves mentally for the slaughter that was to come. As the dust clouds of the beasts' rampage came to view, Toragg could barely contain his delight, knowing that his vengeance was about to come. His entire life would finally be over and he would finally know the satisfaction of knowing that his life long enemies would finally die thanks to his own resilience. The tribe retreated to their sanctuary, leaving the sacrifices the be devoured. The beasts formed a circle around Toragg and the others, smacking their lips and staring at them with hungry looks. The beasts prepared to begin their feast, when Toragg shouted with a bellowing voice that could be heard miles away.

"I am Toragg, son of Kosagg and Andagg, Hunter That Is and The Last Son and Father! You have killed my tribe, but now i will finally take my revenge and revel as your lifeless carcasses thump onto the ground rotting away in the wasting away in the winter's winds! I have lived longer than any human before me or any human who will ever live and i have chased you to the end of the world!"

File: royal_portrait_3_by_robynrose-d3gn60j.jpg (52KB, 400x533px) Image search: [Google]

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>>49504258
>pic related, cause its what the villainess would look like

"There you are White Scarf, glad you could come! Kinda knew you were coming in here the moment someone mentioned a 'ninja-biker' guy was causing quite a ruckus down below." Said Viktoria as she stood from her fancy desk and chair. She then approached one of the innocent Drug Mules she used as human shields against the Biker Hero.

"So I take it someone tipped you off of the location of where my custom drugs are being made and stored huh? From who? A fellow vigilante and 'do-gooder' like you? The cops who couldn't find a like of evidence to link me to various crimes and decided to let you take me out and they take the credit? Oh I know! Maybe The IAA are behind this, decided to once again hire a guy like you to do dirty work, 'cause while they MIIIGHT have 'evidence' against me with their spying and whatnot. They decide to let you do the busting downs 'cause they don't have enough 'authority' yet to try chasing me here in the nation of Braland! Heh and all because I knew how to be subtle and keep my tracks well hidden. Whether The IAA hired you or you're just doing this for your version of the greater good, ya can't stop me now. 'Cause unlike the dumb rabble ya fought on your way were dump enough to charge head first to you. We all got guns in here! Oh and you wouldn't want any of these hostages harmed in the process now would ya!?"

She wasn't bluffing, everyone had guns and the White Scarf only had his trusty melee weapon and throwing knives, she used the drug mules as meat shields to try discouraging the White Scarf and he was plain outnumbered. But the Scarf was persistent to have her taken down.

>>49504451
The beasts clearly understood what Toragg had said, but they were merely amused. Whatever passed for a smile had crept onto the faces of the hulking monstrosities. They begun to tear into the sacrifices, leaving Toragg for last. Toragg stood still, staring at the carnage happening around him. Finally he was taken between the fangs of a monster who seemed to take pleasure in slowly closing it's jaws, crushing Toragg. His ribs had caved in, his stomach ruptured and crushed and his lungs were almost punctured. But one final yell came from Toragg's lips.

"They come! Brothers, rise up in violent rebel and drive away our evil gods!" screamed Toragg in defiance of his fate.

But nothing happened. The slaves had left, chasing after their enslavers to take their revenge on them, rather than the ones who were the source and reason of their enslavement. Toragg succumbed to blood loss finally and his corpse torn to shreds by the hungry beasts.

cont.

>>49504459

"You shield yourself behind innocence, Viktoria Cloven! Exploiting these poor and lower class folk to transport your illegal goods. And you shall fall before me." The White Scarf said in the typical exaggerated cartoony good guy hero manner.

"Pssssh! Don't talk to me like that. Some of my associates here, and some of these other chumps think that you're some sort of legend. Walked straight out of a comic book. But you and I know, you're human, and you're weak. You came here and for what? To do good and help enforce the law by trying to take me down with a sword and throwing knives while we have guns, and to save these poor losers I use to transport my goodies? Ironic, since the very thing you do; vigilantism, is illegal since it takes advantage of the law right?" Viktoria replied back.

"I have cut a path through all your thugs! Whom have most likely committed vile acts of crime and by associating themselves with you. Who cannot say I do not do good and be lawful good? And yes I am fully aware of what I do, but I do it for the goodness with my heart!" The White Scarf said, still in the heroic good guy manner.

"Don't listen to him guys, he or she is a phoney. Also what's wrong with my product by the way? It just cause harmless hallucinations, plus it dulls the pain."

"Yes it does, but your product is not National Health Organization OR Global Health Alliance approved! And have been known to cause organ or even heart failure, you immoral and indifferent villainess!"

"Oh yeah? Well guess what? This is what's gonna happen: Me and my associates here; we're gonna kill you, you're gonna fail to save these worthless bums I simply use for business. And I guarantee that since you're here in this large open area, far in a distance from me in comfortable area, you have no cover ya could hide in and you don't even have a gun. Try throwing them ninja stars at me or any of us at the distance you're in."

>>49504520

30 years passed. The former slaves had formed a new tribe far away from the beasts. They lived their lives in peace, enhancing and improving on what they have learned long time ago from Toragg. The new tribe has become the largest and most powerful as they adapt and learn from other tribes. They no longer need supports to walk upright, but wear them still as a mark of their allegiance. Their hold has become the mightiest and their walls the highest, hunters the fastest and their home filled with game and pure water. And now 30 years later a new winter has finally come. Atop a watchtower the guard rings the alarm. In but a few minutes, those with able bodies and a strong will have gathered outside the hold as the weak, young and old retreat into a hiding place. Before that tribal militia stands a man, head taller than others, painted with elaborate war paintings all around his body. He raises his weapon and yells with a bellowing voice:

"I am Tarogg, son of Toragg and Jarigg, The Leader That Is and The First Son!" is heard for miles away. "Justice has finally come after a hundred years of injustice to our hero and savior! He may have not cared for us, but we have and will care for him, in life and in death, both his and ours! With fire, metal and poison, we will finally act as the spear of retribution that he forged us into!". The men and women behind him rally and prepare themselves for death and victory.

"They come! Brothers, rise up in violent rebel and drive away our evil gods!" screamed out Tarogg in defiance of his fate.

And that's the end. Now, you all 2 people who did read it, how shit was it?

>>49504664
Guy who posted the pic here, It was pretty good. You're style is a little simple, but it gets the job done and fits the story to a t.

>>49478627
bump desu

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>>49509705
Bump with pics

>>49510596
Where do you get art for the storythread?

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>>49510754
Random places; Google, here, Tumblr and so on. Really, though, any pic can work but I usually try to see I could make a story from a pic before posting.
Not a writefag by the way.

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Requesting a story about the supernatural reason why 4chan is slow sometimes.
Or M00t and Hiro fighting Anons

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>>49478627
bump

>>49504526

Viktoria Cloven then continued. "~And about my product, don't worry. My trusty chemists are still working on a way to make my product safer and still feel good like you're lifting off to the sky, still hence the name; Liftoff. Nobody, and I mean NO ONE screws with me. Viktoria Cloven!"

The Whit Scarf spoke again, this time in a more exaggerated manner. "I am an instrument of justice and cannot be fallen. Justice has come for you, law breaker. And Lady Justice has chosen me to bring you down!!!"

Viktoria Cloven was now getting irritated.

"STOP TALKING LIKE THAT!!! SERIOUSLY! I know you're doing that heroic good mannerisms crap while wearing that fucking helmet of yours to cover your face and voice. But how fucking long can you keep up that in-character shit!? But who cares, once me and my friends shoot the hell out of you. We at least finally get to see that face of your's, whether your some guy or girl at the very least. And I get to hang that helmet of your as a trophy indeed!"

"Be cocky all you want Viktoria Cloven, because in case non of you know it. The police shall bear upon this location soon. For I have contacted the authorities!"

"BAHAHAHAHAHA!!! ...You contacted the cops? Seriously? Actually no, bullshit. You wouldn't contact the police, you said it yourself; the cops don't really like you either because of how vigilantism isn't exactly a lawful act no is it? So no, ya bluffin' Scarf. No way would you be THIS dumb to contact the cops to come into this place just to arrest me, AND arrest YOU!"

"Consider this Viktoria. Are your men STILL willing to resist?" The White Scarf faced and looked at all of Viktoria's friends."

"Surrender now while you still can! The law is on their way on this very location. Surrender yourselves and justice may grant mercy upon you!"

"Don't listen to this cosplayer-"
"I CAN'T TAKE! CAN'T TAKE IT NO MORE! I GIVE!" A demoralized thug shouted out as he dropped his gun. Another demoralized thug did the same.

Still requesting and waiting for any author to make a family story for this pic >>49485956

Hey, I am continuing my previous story that chronicler titled Mother Magos for some adorable reason.

Lieutenant Gruber woke up before the dawn. Six months ago, he would have laughed if someone told him that he would be waking up without an alarm and be looking forward to the day. A life of campaigning and dead comrades made every day a little worse than before

Captain Rudolf, for all his nauseating optimism had a good effect on Gruber and the rest of his command staff. Samuels and Hector spent more time treating injuries instead of stashing medical supplies to sell off world. Vic was surprisingly good as a second Lieutentant and was doing a good job during drills. And gruber himself was feeling excellent. For all his boundless optimism, Rudi had put a sense of purpose into the rear echelon company he had been assigned to.

Training the men however was different. Penitent bodies were supposed to be everything from men that were suspected of chaos worship, to country folk who didn't know how to make tribute to the church in the correct manner or made the sign of the imperial aquila in a particular way.

These men were largely the latter. Farmhands and furriers, most of the Rear echelon company had been fined for several things ranging from improperly keeping imperial sigils clean to not paying respect to the emperor as was demanded by the Abbey of Our Lady's Shroud. They would have lived their life in serfdom to the Monastery if not for the fact that the world was under attack by the forces of chaos. As it stood, the penitents were now Captain Rudi - and by extension Gruber's charge.

>>49488478
>>49488530
>>49488586
>>49488646
>>49488677
>>49488809
>>49504258
>>49504459
>>49504526
>>49516105

Any thoughts or criticism on this story so far guys? Plus I could really use some help in a list of police jargon or codewords since I'm considering to include a small police chase in the upcoming parts.

>>49487213
>>49487420
>>49491604
>>49492873
>>49493609
>>49495295
>>49496775
This is a good story, but I feel the language is a little stiff. Also, there are some fairly obvious mistakes, e.g.
>"These individuals on the second floor, they have look like they clawed at each other."

the other thing that bothered me is that here >>49495295 Sadasako seems to read her uncle's mind, in that he doesn't say out loud that he's making the comparison to his brother, yet Sadasako still asks "But what does that mean about me?".

And - this may just be me being dense - who's the Sandman?

>>49487330
>>49487341
Love the descriptiveness of this passage. The only thing I can say about this is that with complex prose like this it's even more important to keep paragraphs short so it doesn't all blur into one.

>>49518442
>Any thoughts or criticism on this story so far guys?
It's okay. I'm interested enough that I'd like to read the ending, at least. It seems like you're wavering between trying to play it straight and trying to do parody, and I think you should probably pick one and go full out. (Personally, I think you should see if you can do real parody.)

Also, I may have mentioned this in regards to previous work of yours, but you may want to branch out from the Hotline Miami soundtrack. I actually think your use of it in this instance is pretty spot on, but you've used it so much in your previous work (assuming you are who I think you are) that it's starting to get a little stale.
Also, spotted a mistake here >>49488809
>I have a hunch that there are innocence involved in here
I'm guessing you meant 'innocents'.

>>49524091

>the other thing that bothered me is that here >>49495295 (You) Sadasako seems to read her uncle's mind, in that he doesn't say out loud that he's making the comparison to his brother, yet Sadasako still asks "But what does that mean about me?".
It's implied, though I admit that I should've made it more obvious that Sadasako knows about what her father did.

>who's the Sandman?
The mythical figure, representative of sleep. Only reason he's referred to as death is because the perp has issues. And why does he think a schoolgirl with a gasmask is the Sandman? Well, he's dying and hallucinating.

Are there any good places to just toss short pieces of random fiction up? I'd throw it here and get it out of my system but I'm at like 7k words, so it's probably a bit too large. It goes without saying that it is convoluted, and also pretty shit.

>>49526569
>It's implied, though I admit that I should've made it more obvious that Sadasako knows about what her father did.
No, you made it clear that she knows, what's odd is that the comparison between her father and the murderer would occur to both of them at the same time without either of them mentioning it out loud.

when the uncle says
>"That man...he didn't understand what he was doing." He figures out his answer. "He was showing off. He didn't really consider what happened to other people because of his actions."
Which on it's own sounds like he's talking about the murderer, but it's clearly implied that he's also thinking of her father because he just thought
>That was insane, alright, but so was his brother
But without that line the bit that he said out loud only applies to the murderer. Yet somehow Sadasako replies as if she heard the implicit comparison to her father, as if she could hear the bit he only thought.

>The mythical figure, representative of sleep. Only reason he's referred to as death is because the perp has issues
this was what I sort of assumed, but I think you should have been more explicit. 'Sandman' is often used as a name for all sorts of things in fiction.

>>49526711
sure. If you're worried about length, take a look at the storythread wiki page. I guarantee you you'll find longer stories there.

>>49526966
I like the wiki page, a lot of the stories there are pretty great. But I think it's just the archivist who posts stuff up there?

>>49527086
I just mean that if you look at the wiki page you'd see that plenty of the stories posted in previous storythreads have been much longer than 7000 words. I won't say that there's no such thing as too long for a storythread, because someone might get it into their head to post an entire novel. But at 7k you can certainly post what you have.

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I'm curious if Czechbro is around, or if any of his short, zen-y excerpts from his various writings got saved. That style of writing is exactly what my mind's been craving lately.

Also, have a picture I wanted to write something to awhile back but never could quite find the words for. Hopefully someone else can form a cohesive thought into writing about this little scene..

>>49524091
Thanks for the input of my story so far:

>>49488478
>>49488530
>>49488586
>>49488646
>>49488677
>>49488809
>>49504258
>>49504459
>>49504526
>>49516105

But I still could use help in some police jargon because I again, I may include a small police chase.

>I may have mentioned this in regards to previous work of yours, but you may want to branch out from the Hotline Miami soundtrack. I actually think your use of it in this instance is pretty spot on, but you've used it so much in your previous work (assuming you are who I think you are)

You must be mistaking me for someone else, but the song I used and posted in >>49488586 which is Angel Dust by Perturbator is not even in Hotline Miami. Just wana share that not all synthwave songs are Hotline Miami soundtrack.

But still thanks, and to anyone else I could still really use help in terms of police jargon and code words.

>>49516105

"...What?" Viktoria Cloven flatly asked what to that one thug. "You cannot be serious. HE OR SHE IS JUST BLUFFING! THIS VIGILANTE FUCK'S CLAIMING HE CALLED THE COPS, JUST CLAIMED AND YOU'RE ALL ACTING LIKE A BUNCH OF PUSSIES!?"

One of the hoodlums then said. "What if he's right?!"

"'What if he's right!?' This schmuck dresses up like some cheesy cartoon character and you believe him!?" Viktoria turned her gaze back to the White Scarf. "Look here Scarf, you can scare some of these kooks, but you're not gonna scare me nor my closest associates."

This time she drew her sidearm and pointed it to the Scarf and while one or two of Viktoria's thugs are intimidated, her three closest associates and most remaining loyal gunmen were unfazed. And some of the more loyal gunmen pointed their guns at the craven thugs.

"Like I said Scarf, you're gonna-"

"Oh shit... Viktoria... He's not lying, they're coming-" One of Viktoria's closest associates spoke but was cut off by her.

"Not now Lawrence, I want this fucking cosplayer dead first-"

But then she stopped speaking as she heard it, the sound of police sirens from the distance. It was faint first but by every coming second it was getting louder.

"Boss, the cops are coming. He wasn't lying..."

Another of Viktoria's closer associates said in a shaken manner.

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>>49514438
I've got an idea for this.

But it doesn't have a great deal to do with the picture, other than the characters. Also it's rather grimdark. And probably shitty. Would you mind if I vomited grimdark 40k fanfiction here?

>>49531396
Not the man who posted pic >>49514438

But hey, this is /tg/ so if its Warhammer related. Then go ahead... Though hopefully its not gonna be too Grimdark, or as the people would say; Grimderp.

>>49531470
I'll count that as a blessing. I'll pastebin it so it doesn't take up too much room. This is already sprawling a bit, but whatever. In a day, Deathwatch vs Lofn. Deathwatch loses.

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>>49530471
>I'm curious if Czechbro is around, or if any of his short, zen-y excerpts from his various writings got saved.
Hey there. Czechfag here. I've been around the whole time, though I've stopped posting (and writing) for a couple of months. Shit has been a bit rough: first job that left little time for anything else, then... some health issues, ended up on a psych ward , now I'm still in recovery.

Basically all of my translated work is here:
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/0B_GIRAVT_V6TT1ZCclFpdVd0MWs?usp=sharing

But most of that has been already posted here ("Mirrors and other Abominations" are the short, dream like stories I used to post) or completely unfinished and mostly worthless.

I don't have anything new to show now. I hope to get back into writing as soon as possible, since it's one of the few things I have left that still brings me joy, but it may take a while before things settle in again.

Thanks for remembering me though, that actually made my day. I thought I had already fallen into obscurity here...

shoulda posted in this thread first...

Out from the wreck of an armoured transport the Man crawled, the lone survivor after the vehicle suffered the merest brush with Death. This Man, this lone Guardsman stood amidst the chaos of battle scored with bleeding and cauterized wounds, bereft of his lasgun and his left arm a ruined, smoking stump stumbled towards and armed himself with the only weapon he could see, a fallen crozius of some unknown Chaplain. The Man hefted the crozius, the effort of doing so strained him to his absolute limit for the weapon was a Marine weapon, its size and weight such that mortal men could hardly bear it.

A short distance away the Man spied that creature, that being of Death incarnate as it reaped lives, armored vehicles and post-human super soldiers with every swing of its dread scythe; men parted before the blade even touched them and vehicles were flung like toys from the mere passing.

And then Man took weary steps towards that Reaper. The Man steeled himself and strode forth despite the soul rending fear in his heart. He made his way towards a building sized gutted wreck of a tank near Death and awkwardly clambered up to the turret of the once mighty vehicle. As he stood on the turret overlooking the Reaper he paused for but a moment before throwing himself with all his worth towards Death, crozius raised high above his head.

The Man acted not out of rage, or fear, or madness or fatalistic acceptance; it was naught but defiance and determination. For despite the Reaper's unimaginable power, he chose to reject the thing completely for life would not go quietly into the night.

The Man’s effort was utterly impotent. It neither harmed, distracted nor even caught the attention of the God-like thing before him. As he neared Death his body came apart, flesh, muscle and bone rapidly flensed away, the very molecules of his body came apart before finally the laws of thermodynamics themselves were broken and the very energy of his being dashed from existence.

Man’s efforts meant nothing.

...And yet Man’s effort meant everything.

For the Warp was a reality fuelled and given form by emotion. The Chaos Gods themselves were nothing but the amalgamations of emotions, albeit the colossal cumulative emotions of quadrillions given form; yet that form still required a spark to ignite its birth. For Khorne it was an anonymous murder done in rage; for Tzeentch, none can say for who could know if that nameless plan gave way to action or if it died on a whim of fancy, it matters not for Tzeentch only requires for the thought to have formed; for Nurgle it was the despair of some unknowable creature in the face of disease; for Slaanesh it was both the death cry of a pregnant tribal xenos woman and shuddering release of a lowly Eldar slave. Man’s act, his defiance in the face of Death was the spark that birthed a new Chaos God into being, Anima, the Chaos God of willpower, of determination, of Life.

Man was not the first to defy Death, before him there were others that raged against the Reaper, but they did exactly that, they raged. They fought against Death in anger, fear, madness or hopeless acceptance and died uselessly, less than useless, they died feeding the warp. Man was the first to defy without burden and so created Life.

Life looked upon Death and said "no" and death was no more.

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>>49532159
Like I said before mate, I'll always be happy to read whatever you write. I understand how flaily life can be at times though, so I won't ever demand anything as if you were capturing photos of Spiderman or something.

I hope things stabalize for you soon! Such imaginative work ought not fade away into nothing.

>>49531494
There will be at least a Blood Raven in the Deathwatch team? They would gladly finish the job in Kronus.

>>49535094
Ooh, that's a good idea. Cyrus coming out of retirement.

>>49532159
In fact, especially now that so much time has passed and life has occurred in many ways, I would be curious to hear you talk about this little tales once again. The Ocean is still perhaps my favorite, but, if you have the time and the desire, I'd like to hear you walk through a few of these tales. Perhaps revisiting will help spur that creative juice into action, even if it only comes to fruition months from now.

Also, a mild formatting criticism: having the same story in multiple documents is a little distracting, so I am unsure if that was unintentional or something done on purpose.

>>49533881
>>49533915
Awesome, well written and simple without lacking anything of the story. Wel done.

>>49542912
>You, sir, should unmask.

>>49531347

"SO WHAT!? So what if he really did tattle on the cops?" Viktoria looked back to the Biker Hero. "And you Scarf, you think this is gonna shake me or what? Assuming the cops do arrest me 'cause me and my associates fail to escape in time, what about you? They're still gonna arrest your sorry ass! Also we have escape vehicles hidden in this place in case such a thing like the cops finding this place out does happen. S if you don't mind, I'd like to have you killed now!"

Viktoria Cloven pointed her gun at the Scarf to which her associates followed. But the White Scarf was not fazed by them pointing their guns at him or her.

"So you have escape vehicles eh? To bad you won't be making ANY getaway law breakers!" He pulled out something from his leather jacket, it was a remote detonator. "~For there will be no getaway vehicles for you!"

The thugs and associates of Viktoria Cloven are shocked, the White Scarf knew where their getaway cars were but Viktoria believed he was bluffing

"Bullshit! BULLSHIT! You have no idea where our cars are! YOU'RE FUCKING BLUFFING-"

"Actually, I think they're down in the 'hidden' basement floor of this building." The White Scarf said, still in the mannerisms of a cartoony hero and pressed hard on the remote detonator. There was an explosion that rocked the lower ground floor of the building and shook the floor everyone was on right now as the fancy chandelier above Viktoria Cloven which provided half of the lighting in the current area flickered on and off and went back on again.

One of Viktoria's associates rushed to a nearby office cubicle-like area which had monitors showing surveillance footage. Some of the video feed showed static. But was really shocking was video feed of the basement garage level which was lit up in flames and showed the charred remains of some vehicles.

"BOSS THE GETAWAY VEHICLES! THEY'RE DESTROYED!!! THE WHITE SCARF BLEW 'EM UP!"

>>49501490
"Dude, you're not going make that shot."

"Yes I can, and you know it."

Bruce had to cock an eyebrow at that bold little statement. Johnny has an alright shot, most guys at the lodge agreed, but he was not as nearly as good as he thought he was. If he was even half as good as he bragged, he'd be the most terrifying sniper in the world.

"C'mon man, just admit that the stag is too far, and you're too scared to get any closer."

Johnny put down the binoculars with an exasperated sigh, and rolled over to glare at his best friend.

"You know, you'd think a talking sentient bear would be a bit more positive."

"Heh, being a talking bear doesn't have anything to do with being positive," Bruce said with a smile. "If anything, I'm being a realist for my buddy."

Johnny's glare took on a pouty quality, always a sure fire indication that Bruce was right but pride demanding he still follow through on his boast.

"I'm can make the shot, watch."

The human turned over and readied his rifle, to the rolling eyes and mirthful smile of his friend.

Here we go again, the bear thought.

Johnny's rifle barked, it's report ringing through whole clearing. For a moment, everything was quiet.

"...Well, silver lining, you managed to hit that tree."

"Shut up."

>>49545132

This only confirmed the fears of all the associates and thugs in the room and although Viktoria was not showing it. She was starting shake and was already getting scared after finding out the White Scarf was not bluffing about anything, yet she still persisted.

"YOU THINK THIS GONNA BE IT!? YOU THINK YOU'RE GONNA WALK OUTTA HERE FEELING LIKE A GOODY-TWO-SHOES HERO LIKE ALWAYS? WELL GUESS WHAT PAL, THE MOMENT THE COPS ARRIVE, THEY'RE GONNA ARREST YOU OR GUN DOWN YOUR SORRY ASS!!! AND I'M MIGHT AS WELL RUN ON FOOT IF I HAVE TO!!!" Viktoria yelled at the top of her lungs to the Biker Hero.

The White Scarf drew his Wakizashi from its scabbard with his right hand and drew some kunai knives with his left "I will not allow you to escape, for it is time you faced justice for the crimes you have committed!" The White Scarf boasted in his heroic mannerism as he pointed his blade at Viktoria Cloven, he spoke again; addressing to Viktoria's people.

"Viktoria Cloven's Thugs and Associates. You can still surrender now to the authorities. Surrender now and you may still bask in the mercy of justice and the law!"

One of the closest associates finally broke. "SCREW THIS! WE CAN'T KEEP IT UP ANYMORE, I YIELD!"

Another one blurted out. "Viktoria it's not use! There's no escaping now and the cops are coming! Only thing we can do now is-"

"ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS!? I'AM NOT GOING TO LOSE TO THIS-"

The White Scarf used this opportunity while she was distracted and looked up to the chandelier above her. He took aim with a throwing knife and while everyone was preoccupied with Viktoria's current rants and ravings the Biker Hero threw the kunai, it hit the chain holding the chandelier above Viktoria and the chain broke.

And just as the associate was looking up, he saw the chandelier falling to Viktoria and jumped out which puzzled Viktoria. But as she was about look up she saw a the falling chandelier just a second as it was about to hit her. And then; CRASH!

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Maybe someday I'll curate my own collection of inspiration pictures. And one day my own /tg/ story archive will be in a state worth sharing. Today is not that day however. I'll offer a few story worthy pictures though.

>>49545263
Yo Quill hoping you might not forget, but... Are you still gonna continue Fairy Problems? It sort of feels and reads; unfinished.

https://1d4chan.org/images/5/51/FairyProblems.png

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I based one of my inter game bars off of this. Players met previous player characters they may or may not have known. Even those known or thought to be dead.

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And with these 4 bumps, I leave you with a decision. My 5th and final piece I offer will be one of the 4 following categories.

Character. Scenario. Environment. Dungeon.

As always, /tg/, choose wisely.

>>49545580
Character.

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>>49545619
A fine choice, anon.

>>49545427

The nearby people shielded their faces as the chandelier collapsed and crushed Viktoria Cloven, her body now lifeless as the heavy weight crushed her body. Fortunately the innocent drug mules Viktoria used to shield against the Scarf were unharmed but still tied and blindfolded, bound and on their knees. The thugs and associates are shocked and looked at each other while still trying to point their weapons at the White Scarf but one thug looked out on the window and the police are already close by as the sirens have already become much, much louder than earlier before.

The craven thug simply dropped his gun in defeat and amazingly the other thugs also followed suit and dropped their weapons in defeat. The White Scarf was slightly surprised personally as he expected the goons to put up some fight but was happy it turned out well.

"Alright Biker Hero, you win, we give up. You came for the mules right? You can have 'em just. Don't knock us around 'kay? We give up!" One thug simply said so as he also dropped his gun in defeat and just sat down waiting for his fate, so did the other former thugs and associates.

The Biker Hero sheathed his blade and throwing knives and proceeded to untie the mules-turned-hostages as they thanked the Biker.

"Thank you so much, I don't know what to say but just. Thanks for liberating us, whether you came or not. She was going to have us killed either way." Said one weary person who was used as a human shield.

"No need to be afraid citizen, your non-consensual servitude to Viktoria Cloven is over. Await for the authorities to arrive, they'll take care of the rest."

As the hostages were relieved and the now defeated and demoralized thugs await their fate at the hands of the law, the police finally arrived outside the building.

>will continue tommorow

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Requesting a married couple story about these two.

Older officer guy and younger feisty woman

>>49545441
Only because im gonna be bored and drunk tonight and I respect your persistence, sure. I'll think of something.

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This is a rough draft prelude to a campaign I'm making. The premise is she is summoning an ancient green dragon sealed long ago by a Lich. The Lich has long since left the area now. It'll only take two posts as I only have the prelude.
***

Stunningly beautiful, even by Elf standards, Aewel watches from between the leaves of the old library. High up she has a perfect view of the Lord's Mansion nestled in the branches of the great tree of Sylvadel. The sun begins to dip behind the trees now, the sky deepening from orange to red.

"Finally." With a grin she turns and floats down the steps. Behind the main librarian's desk she gently moves aside a large crate. With a hand gesture the floor fades, an illusion, and a hatch appears. She easily lowers herself into the darkness, her body used to the motion by now, it has become second nature.

In the darkness her green eyes appear to glow with the glint of light from above. She lights a candle and steps past two of her thralls. The two undead dwarves stand perfectly still, peering into the darkness, rapt.

(tbc)

>>49558785

She walks past the door to the hidden library, the books written in Infernal, in Abyssal, in Draconic, in languages even Awel cannot read without certain spells. She slides past her office, filled with artifacts of the Lich's making, filled with horrors that would make Lord Amrond reel in terror.

Opening the door to the final room at the end of the cellar she looks out at a massive space. The middle is covered by a huge circle, writing of all types surrounding it, penetrating it, becoming part of it. Around it are various items, a dragon skull, a cup of troll's blood, an Elf's head, a Human's hand, and various other gruesome reagents.

As she slides across the floor to the middle she pulls a large skeletal arm from within her cloak. It's bony fingers grasp a small blue dragon's eye that appears to be alive, it looks around frantically in its skeletal cage of fingers. She places it in the center and begins to speak in a language unheard of in this forest for a millenia. As she does she removes a vile of green fluid from her belt, raises it high, and slams it into her stomach. She smiles as blood seeps from her mouth and collapses on the floor. "Lord Grimnosh, you may finally return."

>>49558785
>half dragon
that's a tiefling, anon. note the hooves. a half-demon if you like.

whenever i start writing something it sprawls way the fuck out of control god damn it

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>>49546823
>song plays: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jlnvv5up0u4

Just as the White Scarf landed on the mattress filled dumpster the police were already outside and were in the building. The White Scarf had to make such an exit and avoid being spotted by the cops due to the fact the cops also did not tolerate his actions of vigilantism.

So he discreetly jogged back to the area he hid his racing superbike, looking back he could even see an armored SWAT van with SWAT teams entering the building, along with alot of police.

He quickly started up his bike and immediately sped off, however one cop in his car noticed the White Scarf escaping and immediately went off to pursuing the Biker Hero and turning on the sirens.

"Dispatch this is Officer Carver, I'm in pursuit of suspect. Suspect is the White Scarf, repeat; its that Biker Vigilante, in need assistance. Other current units are busy dealing with the warehouse location."

"Copy that officer, continue pursuit. An air unit, will be dispatched in awhile, keep chasing him down."

As the officer was chasing him down while relaying to dispatch, the White Scarf obviously noticed the police car with its blaring sirens. He was not going to speed up too fast just yet as the road leading back to the main road was a winding path, so he had to keep a distance between himself and the pursuing cop.

>be continued

>>49559247
Tell me about it. I was just fiddling around with a character's backstory and now I'm almost 2/5th of the way to meeting the Nano goal.

You know bots are already taking your jobs, right?

>>49564931
Wut?

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slow week we're having

The last and perhaps most vivid memory Colonel Jonas Straken remembered from his decade and a half service in the imperial guard was the approach of the evac Valkyrie. He would forget the day he joined the imperial guard, his first taste of combat, and the medals and citations he received, but he would always remember the way he was evacuated with what remained of his command.

The details were a little hazy, of course. Imperial policy being what it was, defeats would be sealed under layers of military bureaucracy, and there were always new soldiers to try out new approaches.

What Colonel Jonas remembered was the feeling of incredible coldness. He had been hit during combat, and since he was running out of stims, his body could no longer cope. He had the sensation of being carried on a makeshift stretcher and on to the evac zone.

The air was filled with the miasma of the dying. While the medical officers did their best, there were simply too many casualties. He dimly recalled soldiers asking him for orders, only, he didn't know what orders he gave.

Were they ordered to advance and destroy the xenos? Or were they ordered to retreat and set up better defensive positions and await for relief forces to arrive? Jonas didn't remember any more.

All he remembered was the blessed warmth. He was cold all over when it appeared. A fierce hot glow that nearly blinded him and spread a warmth to his limbs. For a moment he thought that the emperor's angels had come to bear him to a well deserved final rest. However, angels were not known for the loud whine that engines are known to make,

He remembered his medical officer's face, a dark brown color, and the feeling of his hand on Jonas' pulse. The man was grimacing as Jonas was lifted with several other casualties (all of them officers) and evacuated out of the battle.

A year later, much had changed in the imperium, and Jonah was only aware of the most broadest of what happened. It still hurt to know that the uniform that he wore was now defunct, for his regiment had been disbanded.

Disbanding a regiment was generally avoided by the imperium. Soldiers might be easy to replace, but legacies were not. A regiment was disbanded only if it was obliterated or if it had turned traitor. Reading his dismissal from the 37th Meridian Infantry Regiment was in many ways, a death sentence to Jonas Straken. He had spent most of his career in the guard building this regiment from the ground up. The world was to be their crowning moment, a chance to live forever as heroes of the imperium. And He had failed that. In many ways, it was as if his own son was dead, and Jonas was the last to know about it.

A product of the Scholam system that had produced excellent men of character who led the pondeerous machinery of the imperium through turbulent times, Jonas was not a man easily given to despair. However, the casual dismissal of his legacy was a bitter pill to swallow, even for the not so old soldier.

His condition worsened, and for a time his medicus wondered if Jonas' spirit had been broken by the news he had received. Being a good man, the doctor wrote to Jonas' higher up, suggesting a change of occupation to help the former Colonel get back into shape.


On a cloudy day on the paradise world he was hospitalized in, Jonas' reverie was broken by a few distinguished guests.

Chief among them was the Lord General Vicus Van Hal, who looked positively ageless due to his juvenant treatments. The Governor of Meridia, a certain Schelgen was also present. Jonas was not used to receive such distinguished personages, and his lack of tact was quickly forgiven. Recovering soldiers were not known for their courtesy.

The emperor had need of Jonas. His actions had earned him several citiations both from Meridia, and the Imperial guard. He was to be honored.

The imperial tarot itself had chosen Jonas for a duty beyond all others. The emperor had made an alliance with the eldar. Jonas Straken, a son of Meridia, and loyal servant of the imperium would be an ambassador to an eldar world.

They had expected Jonas Straken to be thankful. Men were moved to tears by the emperor's grace and mercy, and Jonas would look forward to a good, if boring life on a paradise world.

What they had not expected was Jonah to throw a hissy fit on the spot and curse the xenos that he was supposed to be an ambassador to. He howled for his men, and burst into tears as he recounted their deeds of valor and sacrifice against the foul xeno. He believed it heretical that he would have to shake the hands that were daubed with the blood of his men
It was doubtless a reaction to the medication that the poor soldier was subject to.


The paperwork was done, the forms were all filled, and the petitions were filed. As the days closed on the 40th millenium, Jonah Straken found himself on a shuttle with his medicus, Dr Granicus Kearne, heading towards his new job.

"Granicus, please check my blood pressure. I feel extremely uncomfortable."

Dr Kearne sighed as he began the laborious process of taking Jonas Straken's vital signatures. He had asked for it twice in a row, and despite showing perfectly fine readings, was convinced that he was sick. Some amount of nausea was to be expected. They were being moved in a high priority shuttle, and prolonged suborbital spaceflight was not recommended to patients that were discharged recently.

Granicus went through the motions, taking care not to jab the needles into vital arteries or organs. It wouldn't do for the ambassador to die on the shuttle to his new posting.

After an hour, he bent up and stared at the grimacing face of Jonas Straken. The man was panting and breathing heavily, but that was to be expected in such extreme conditions.

"well, what is it?"

"You are doing fine Straken. If we keep doing this, I might just end up killing you by accident."

It was hard to tell if Straken was dissapointed or relieved at Dr Kearne's medical deductions. The conversation might have turned awkward when there was a sinking feeling in the gut of both their stomachs. The shuttle was descending.

Granicus ran and buckled himself to the seat. A mistake and he would become paste. Jonas was breathing heavily as their altitude lessened, and when the ship came to a stop, Granicus could hear the man's breathing over the ship's dull engine roar.

Their debriefing was simple. There was a small crowd of dignitaries and Vicus Van Hal thanked Jonas Straken for his service and formally relieved him of his position in the imperial guard. For the next few seconds, Jonas Straken was a civilian.

Next came the administratum scribe who began writing notes in short hand. A Sister from the Order of our Lady's Shroud was there to witness Jonas Straken take his oath as Ambassador of the Imperium of Mankind. He was given a ceremonial sword, and an ornate bolt pistol the symbols of his office.

"...and hereby, in light of services done to the imperium of mankind and under the holy gaze of our most beneficent emperor, I General Vicus Van Hal now honorably discharge Colonel Jonas Straken of the erstwhile 37th Meridian Infantry from his service in the Imperial Guard. His duty to his emperor is fulfilled." The General finished his long monologue with a salute.

Jonas took a deep breath. And saluted. This was it. His last salute as a member of the Imperial guard. His arm was surprisingly fluid and he didn't fumble it. He had saluted enough times in his military career and one more didn't matter. Just like that, Jonas Straken was a free man of the imperium. He wondered what the men under his command would say if they saw him now.

The Sister was next. She was adorned with the robes of her order, a pale white shroud covering a dark, feminine face. She held a copy of the lectito divinitatus and waved it in his face. Her voice was monotonous as she did her rites.

"Are you Jonas Straken, formerly of the 37th Meridian Infantry Regiment and now a free human, bonded to no imperial creed?"

"I am."

"Do you accept the honor and the duty bestowed to you by the God Emperor of mankind?"

"I do."

"Then swear it by the Lectito Divinitatus."

Jonas smiled a little. He was exchanging a fetter made of plasteel for a fetter made of gold.

"I, Jonas Straken, solemnly swear to do my duty to the Emperor and accept the commision laid upon me by him through his representatives. I take the post of Ambassador of the Imperium to the Eldar allies. I shall do my duty to the best of my abilities until the god emperor needs me somewhere else or until the day I die."

He surprised even himself with his spontaneous elequoence. Maybe he could be a good diplomat after all.

"Kneel then, and accept the badge of your office." He knelt at once. Despite the solemnity of this moment, Jonas though that this could be so much faster.

"Here are the symbols of your office, given to you by the best and brightest from among your home of Meridia. May you bear them righteously."

Truth be told, Jonas was void born, but it was so much like hive nobs to claim the plebian underclasses as their own when there was glory to be won.

The symbols of his offices were an ornate bolt pistol. As ancient as it was impractical. If Jonas had to wear the damn thing on his hip, Granicus would have to deal with backaches sooner or later. On the other hand, it made an excellent paperweight.

The sword was another matter entirely. A finely crafted weapon, even for a person like Straken who would likely use it as a club, it was elegant and beautifully balanced. Jonas tested it out by swiping at the air, and was surprised at how naturally it moved. It was an extension of his arm.

"Do you like it?" Schelgen was rather grubby, even in his state finery.

"Yes. Rather impractial though. I would much prefer a lascarbine in combat." Schelgen didn't talk to him after that comment.

Everyone else stopped talking as they saw a spectacle that many civilians had never seen in their lives.

A golden halo appeared in front of the crowd. The more religious minded fell to their knees, the sister among them. The corona began to solidify and as it changed colors, a portal appeared. The path beyond it changed colors rapidly, dazzling straken's eyes. He might not be a soldier anymore, but instinct and training had taught him what was going to happen next. Almost unconsciously, he cocked the empty bolt pistol.

Three figures stepped forth from the portal. Tall and elegant they were, and clad in robes made from material that was beyond the dreams of the most decadent of noble imperials. They towered over the imperial delegation in both height and presence. The most stiff of imperial dignitaries looked like apes in comparison.

Straken exhaled slowly. No. These were not the enemy. Not anymore. What was done was done. It was his duty to shake the hands that were daubed with the blood of his men.

Most of the delegation were staring at the eldar with their mouths slightly agape. Straken suspected that they had only known about the xenos from the imperial guardsman's primer. The eldar always were the center of attraction, friendly or hostile, wherever they were present.

Two males. A female. It was hard to tell the difference until you looked for cues that you were trained to. Straken had a lot of training and experience with the elusive xenos. There was more to the female than that.

He couldn't shake the idea that he had seen her somewhere before. Maybe his xeno differentiating skills were not all that good. Some ambassador he was going to be.

The tallest of the lot, dressed in a fashion that was impeccable but simple spoke. "Greetings, Imperial allies. My name is Prince Ithandriel. We have been waiting for this day for a long time. I am to be the Eldar ambassador to this system. I trust you have chosen your representative well."

The imperial crowd was silent. Too stunned for words. This was getting embarassing, for all the assembled people and by extension all of humanity.

"Time will tell, Ambassador-Prince. I am Jonas Straken. I will be your counterpart. On behalf of my fellow humans, I bid you welcome to the Meridian system."

The eldar stared at him for a moment. Three pairs of eyes boring into him. He couldn't dare to look away from the ambassador. Not now. A few tendrils of foreign thought tried to enter his mind. He began to hum the regimental tune under his breath. If the eldar tried to invade his mind, they would pay.

Prince Ithandriel smiled, and it was like watching the sun rise from beyond the hills.

"Well spoken, Ambassador Straken. I think I shall change my title to Prince-Ambassador now. Shall we introduce each other to our associates then?"

The rest of the morning passed by as more illustrious guests were introduced to the eldar. Everyone of importance, from adminstratum seniors, to Canonesses and Sister superiors to Archmagos wanted to meet the new prince ambassador of the eldar. Thankfully, they left Straken alone for the most part. A few of them took picts with him, but most of them were busy bothering the eldar.

Abruptly, he found himself next to Dr Kearne. The man was standing in a corner looking at the crowd with a mixture of fear and awe. Jonas waved to him and the man came over.

"Do you want another check up Ambassador?"

"Very funny Granicus. How are you holding up?"

"I don't know. I am a guard surgeon. I have never seen nobles or Them up close."

"Well, how do you like it so far? The eldar I mean."

"I- I thought they would be taller."

"yeah, I take it you aren't a believer in the Uplifting primer?"

"Not very much. No."

"If I was in the guard, you would be liable to be shot, you know."

Granicus, turned pale at that. Straken had to laugh.

"Of course, I am an ambassador now, so I can be diplomatic and keep my mouth shut. So what are you going to do?" Granicus' relief was palpable.

"Go back to my triage center that they call a medical center I suppose. Another half century of laboring and maybe I can retire to some quiet farm and buy some cows and a fat wife and make babies."

"I see." The man was certainly better deserving of that.

"Ambassador Straken, am I interrupting you?" The voice would have been in place in any choir in the imperium. The diction was perfect, and the lilting voice was a pleasure to listen to.

"Please interrupt. Dr Kearne was just telling me about his marital plans."

It was the eldar woman. Up close she was even more beautiful than afar. There was something alien about her long, heart shaped face. Every aspect of her was perfectly symmetrical as though she was a living sculpture. Again, he was reminded of just how alien the eldar were.

"I am Yvresse of the Dancing Death. I shall be your translator."

"Dancing death is a strange name for an order of translators. Are you sure you are JUST a translator?"

Her face turned a delicate shade of pink as she replied, " I shall be your bodyguard as well. You have my word of honor that I shall defend your life with my own."

"Yes, yes. Just remember, it will be easier to protect me if you are alive. No need to die heroically if you make sure I am in one piece."

She laughed at that, a wonderful enchanting sound. The crowd looked over in their direction for a moment before returning to bother the Prince Ambassador.

"I must tell you, Ambassador Straken. You are only allowed a few people for your diplomatic functions or to look after you. We might be allies, but our people need time to bridge the gulf between us."

Straken smiled at that. He had just the right person in mind.

"Very well. Dr Kearne, are you planning on getting that farm and wife right now?"

"N-no ambassador."

"Congratulations, you are now part of the imperial diplomatic corps."

The man's expression changed from puzzlement to elation. It was a heartwarming sight. Another person to talk to in an alien world would be a good change.

The rest of the day went by quickly. The third eldar, a tall blond creature that stared at him with a mixture of pity and sadness wasn't very talkative. Straken had put him out of his mind.

As the Prince Ambassador walked with the entourage, the only people left were the four of them. The portal began to open again when the quiet eldar spoke.

"Ambassador Straken, my name is Athalen, I am an autarch of Craftworld Ava Nile. You may remember by lovely associate here from the maiden world of Auberogen Secundus."

Straken's eyes widened at the name. It was to be their proving ground. It had turned into their tomb. The xeno watched his face for a moment before continuing.

"You were wounded and carried out near the end of our conflict. You are aware that your men were not so fortunate. The Imperium disbanded the regiment after the failed invasion, I believe."

"Yes, yes they did. I suppose I am the last remaining momento of the men I led and the regiment I commanded." His voice had become far less firm while he said that. Then it hit him. All those men, their hopes and dreams, their names and their families. Lost forever. Humans know that they aren't immortal. They strive to do everything to leave a legacy behind. To the countless souls of the imperium, the guardsman is one of the ways to be remembered for deeds. His men were denied even that.

"There is also this."
The eldar had between his robes a tattered golden banner. It was frayed at the edges and parts of it were burned but with a leaping heart, Jonas recognized what was written on it. He didn't need to read it to know that it said. "Onward comrades, to the bitter end."

The portal had opened up by then, and a half dozen eldar walked out of it. They wore similar robes and had the air of important personages. Straken's eyes were on the standard, his fingers lovingly caressing each frayed line and burned out fragment.

"We had planned on giving it to the governor of Meridia, but he informed us that the regiment was best left forgotten. So we did the next best thing. It is only fitting that you keep the momento of the men you led. As long as this banner survives, your men have not died in vain.

Ambassador Jonas Straken, on behalf of craftworld Ava Nile, I welcome you to our home. May you have a long an pleasant stay in our humble home"

I wrote this story in the nobledark thread and got very little feedback. any more would be appreciated guys.

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It's been awhile. I've been rolling around an idea of something like 'COPS meets DnD meets Comedy Central'. Figured I'd post a bit to see if it was worth working on.

In the city of Brest, a tavern named the Wooden Grue is the picturesque scene of tavern life. A group of men are srated at a long table, haring stories and tankards. Several other groups are off in corners brooding or just enjoying the atmosphere. The barkeep is cleaning tableware from previous visitors.
However, the this particular tavern is about to get much more interesting.
And rowdy, even more so than the much acclaimed 'grog and clog' night.

The front door, a beast of iron and oak, threw up splinters and dust as it protested the sudden entry. A cadre of gleaming, armored knights stormed in, leveling swords and crossbows at the myriad of patrons.
"ORDER OF KNIGHTS!!!! FREEZE!!!" shouted one of the intruders.
"Teller, you said wrong," hissed a neighboring knight, "again."
"Shit. KNIGHTS OF ORDER!!! CONTINUE FREEZING!!!", he quickly corrected.
Silence defended rapidly as no-one moved, knight or knave. And then someone broke the silence, a dark elf at one of the tables off to the side.
"I ain't going to the brig for none of you rounders," the dark elf remarked to nobody in particular as he bolted for the rear entrance. He made it too. The standoff was still in effect. As he exited, another patron spoke.up, " why does that weaseling knife-ear get to leave?"
A response came fast, but not from them knights, "ya can take that bugger en jargon en shove it up yet arse, ya bleedin nit" and just as fast came a retort, "shaddup and sit down dwarf, if I could tell whether you're standing or not you-"
"WHAT PART OF FREEZING DONT YOU IDIOTS GET!?!? THE NEXT PERSON TO TALK--"
A bright flash shoved rays of ashy light through the cracks and knot holes of the rear door; moments later the sounds of the door shattering and a dark elf yelling mixed together as the elf in question came flying back into the equation.

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>>49571156
"Getcho ass back in dere, Scruft." Despite refreezing , everyone glanced back as a massive paladin squeezed through the doorway. "The next fool dat trys ta leave gets their ass smited through da wall." A quick peek at the stone and mortar walls of the tavern had everybody redoubeing their freezing efforts. "Now, unfortun'ly, we ain't here for you Scruft. We's here for bigguh fish," the paladin announced. "Thank you, Araius. Thank you, thank you," apologized Scruff as he hobbled towards his benefactor. " SIT YO FIVE BIT ASS DOWN BEFORE I MAKE COPPERS," Araius threatened which quickly cowed the dark elf. He turned, looking at the opposite corner of the tavern, "we 'er here fer dat flat-nosed fucka!" the paladins declared pointing at a young orc, "yer comin' with us, Eryllius." The orc stood, knocking his stool over, and sneered back, "yeah, on what charges, pigs!"
"FREEZE, YOU FORGETFUL SON OF A B-"
"Calm yo pauldrons, Tellen. Anden bet me ten silvers dat you'd say Orda uh Knights. Again," chided Araius, then turning back, "as fer da charges. You's goin away for stealin' uh wheel of marbled brie."

>>49569686
>>49569701
>>49569712
>>49569720
>>49569750
>>49569760
>>49569773
>>49569789
>>49569804
>>49569821
Good for what it sets out to do. If there's a reason why it wouldn't get much attention it's because nothing much happens, but it's a character study not an action sequence so I'm not sure I can fault it for that. It does needs polishing in places, e.g.
>>49569712
>What they had not expected was Jonah to throw a hissy fit
'hissy fit' doesn't sound very soldierly. Perhaps something like 'fly into a rage' would have been better.

But there are no major flaws. Except... it does kinda feel like it was written by an Eldar fanboy. I won't say it diverges from the usual portrayal of Eldar, because there are plenty of Eldar fanboys among the BL authors, but strictly speaking I think the Eldar should be alien and mysterious, and not necessarily at all friendly. Especially in contrast to the humans' reaction, you make it seem like you like the Eldar a lot more. Perhaps it would have been better to write just one of the three ambassadors as open and friendly, and made the others varying degrees of alien.

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dis bread

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>>49550528
“Ms. Hawke?”

Olivia stirred. Her head hurt, throbbing along with a slow, rhythmic beeping. She couldn’t see. Something was stuck in her nose. She tried reaching to it, but her arm was stuck. So was her leg. Her whole body, wrapped in smothering tightness. Blackness everywhere. She was suffocating. The beeping sped up.

“Ms. Hawke?” Olivia heard again. A woman’s voice, echoing in her head. “Ms. Hawke, please stay calm. You’re alive. You’re in a compression chamber. I’m getting you out.”

A compression chamber? The memories started floating back to her, like a bad dream. Of course, she thought. She stopped fighting. Standard g force compensator for long trips. She’d been in one a dozen times before. But who was talking to her?

“I’m working on getting it open, Ms. Hawke,” the voice said again. “Please be patient.”

With a sigh, the compressor bags released. Olivia felt the pressure lift from her body, and finally with a hissing sound the doors of the chamber opened. Olivia moved, and felt an uncomfortable stiffness in her face and body. Tubes everywhere. She groaned, and freed herself.

Olivia fell out, into blackness. The feeling of cold metal greeted her hands and feet. “I can’t see,” she said aloud. She started to panic again. “I can’t see”.

“That’s because there’s no light, Ms. Hawke,” the voice said. “Here, is this better?” Pale blue lights glowed up from the floor. Olivia squinted, letting her eyes adjust from total darkness. She turned around. Six more compression pods in the room. All opened. The names of her crew returned. She strained to stand, and walked over to them.

>>49571990
“Captain?” she shouted. “Danny? Ashley?” She looked around.

“Ms. Hawke, I advise you to remain quiet,” the voice came again. Olivia looked up; it was routing through the ship’s intercom. “You’ve been in that pod a very long time. You’re not safe right now. You need to get to my ship”.

“Your ship?” Olivia asked. “Who are you? What’s going on?”

“You’re the Colombus’s only survivor, Ms. Hawke. I’m sorry. But I need to get you out of there.” Silence for a second. “My name’s Evee.”

“Only survivor? What are you talking about?”

“Your crew is dead, Ms. Hawke,” Evee said. “Please, I’ll explain once you’re aboard my ship. I’m docked to yours right now. Right now the compensator cabin is the only space on the ship with life

“Them?” Olivia asked.

“You’re not alone right now, Ms. Hawke,” Evee said. Olivia’s stomach dropped. The room was silent for a moment. She strained her ears, listening for whoever else was aboard the ship.

Something wasn’t right. “Hold on a second,” she said. “Is this some kind of trick? What’s really going on? Who’s on the ship right now?”

“I don’t know, Ms. Hawke,” Evee said. “But you’re not the only life sign I’m picking up right now. Please, just listen to me. I want to help you.” Olivia sighed. The door out of the compression cabin was closed. “Listen, I need to tell you what we’re going to do. Is that okay, Ms. Hawke?”

>>49572093
“Uh, I guess,” Olivia said. She reached up and wiped her forehead. Her mouth was dry.

“I need more than that, Ms. Hawke,” Evee said. “Once I open that door, you need to move quickly and quietly. No stopping. And no talking. They’ll hear you.”

“And who’s they?” Olivia asked again. She was starting to feel stressed.

“I told you I don’t know, Ms. Hawke,” Evee said. She actually sounded annoyed. “All I know is there are multiple lifeforms aboard with you, and they’re still alive after floating in vacuum for over a century.”

Over a—what? “What the hell are you talking about?” Olivia shouted.

“SSSHHHH” Evee hissed. “Ms. Hawke, please, I want you to live. Please, just do what I say. We can talk more when you’re safe. I’ll say this, you’ve been in that pod a very long time. Things are not what they were when you went in. You’re not safe right now.”

Olivia sighed. She was getting tired of this woman. She looked down at her feet. They were bare. “Fine, I’ll do what you say,” she said.

“Thank you. Look around. There should be a headset on one of the desks. Take it and turn it on. I’m already on its frequency.” Olivia searched, and found it. She put it on, and turned a switch.

“Thank you,” Evee’s voiced buzzed through the headset. “It will be safer to talk to you through this. I’m going to open the door now. You’ll have some air; enough to get to the airlock. I’ll light your way. I don’t think they like light. Move fast, move quiet. Don’t talk. I’ll be waiting.”

>>49572093
“Okay,” Olivia said. “Okay I’m ready.” She walked over to the door. She waited a moment, and it hissed open. The hallway beyond was pitch black. Then more of the little blue lights turned on, lining the edges of the floor.

Olivia started down the hall. Her feet padded against the floor, softly. Silence smothered her. She kept her ear strained.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Olivia’s heart jumped. She froze

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Up ahead was a T-intersection in the hall. The lights moved to the right. The sound came from the left. Something soft and heavy, banging against the metal walls.

Thud. Thud. Thud

“E-Evee?” Olivia whispered. She could barely find her voice.

The thudding stopped.

Olivia’s heart pounded through her. Deafening. She forced her foot forward. Then the other. Finally she reached the intersection. She slowly peeked out, to the left.

Blackness.

“Ms. Hawke,” Evee said. Olivia jumped. “Ms. Hawke! Run!”

From the blackness, Olivia heard a loud pattering. Feet on metal. Her stomach lurched. She turned and ran, following the lights. The pattering followed her. Matching her. Reaching her.

Then she heard the screaming.

>>49572250
A loud, piercing scream, like a man in great pain. It echoed behind her, never stopping. Olivia let out a scream of her own and sprinted as fast she could. Following the lights. She hurled through a bulkhead, striking her foot against it and tripping. She slammed head first into the floor. Olivia was vaguely aware of a loud hissing sound behind her. Rubbing the stars from her eyes, she saw the bulkhead was closed.

The screaming rang from the other side, and she heard pounding and scraping against the metal. Her leg ached. She looked down. Blood leaked from tear in her jumpsuit.

“That should hold it for now,” Evee said. “Ms. Hawke, you have to keep going. Your almost there.”

“My leg,” Olivia said. It wasn’t bleeding bad, but she felt she might have sprained it. “Wh-what is that?”

“Something,” Evee said. “Anything. Ms. Hawke, please get up. There are more. They know you’re here. You need to get moving.”

A second wind rushed through her. Olivia stood up, wincing as she put weight on her leg. She limped as fast as she could, following the lights. The thing still screamed.

Then more screaming. All around her. Olivia felt tears burning her eyes. She kept going. Pain seared through her leg, up into her brain. She grit her teeth. She followed the lights. To the airlock. The airlock. Must get to the airlock.

>>49572264
She rounded another corner. The screams were getting louder. She looked down, at the end of the hallway, she saw it. The faint red e-lights of the airlock. Her vision narrowed and she sprinted, ignoring the pain. Adrenline surged through her.

She didn’t see the door on the right.

Something barreled in to her, knocking her over again. Olivia kicked and flailed, and she crawled forward. Before she could get up, a sliminess grabbed her leg. Pain rushed through again as something razor sharp bit into her. Screaming assaulted her ears.

“Oh God nooooo!” she shouted. She struggled, punching and kicking the thing in the darkness. More screams. Something else tumbled over them. It dug itself into her shoulder. Hot breath and drool oozed onto her from the hideous silhouette above her. She sobbed.

Suddenly, a bright light burned across them. It seared her vision, and Olivia shut her eyes. She felt the things release her. She opened her eyes again.

Nothing. The hallway was brightly lit. The primary lights hummed and buzzed above her.

“-wke, Ms. Hawke?!” a tinny voiced buzzed near her head. The headset fell off in the struggle. Olivia picked it up and put it on.

“Ee-ee,-eevee,” Olivia breathed.

“Oh thank God,” Evee said. “Please, Ms. Hawke, please hurry. I can only keep the lights on for a few more seconds. There’s not enough power in your ship. They hate the light. Get to the airlock.”

Olivia staggered up. Her jumpsuit was torn, covered in blood and black ooze. She limped to the airlock, pulling the lever and jumping through as soon as it slid open. She yanked the interior lever, and sighed with relief when the door closed.

Immediately, the lights in the Columbus turned off again. The screams echoed faintly through the airlock door. Olivia turned, and stepped towards the exterior door. She peered through the window, into the interior of another ship. This one had light.

>>49572276
The door slid open, and Olivia stepped into the ship. She looked down, she was tracking blood into it.

“Ms. Hawke, are you badly injured?” Evee’s voice came from the new ship’s intercom.

“I think…I think I’m okay, Evee,” Olivia said.

“Okay, good. Good,” Evee said. “I’ll get you patched up. The sick bay’s down this hall, on the left. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Olivia limped down the hall. She was tired. She wanted a shower. She hoped Evee had one on-board. She came to the door on the left, and entered the sick bay. It was empty. She limped forward, and sat up on the bed. She lay back, and sighed.

“Ms. Hawke, I am beyond relieved you are alright,” Evee’s voice came suddenly, next to her. Olivia turned her head, and atop a small platform by the bed stood a foot high holographic woman. She was wearing a mechanic’s jumpsuit. Her hair was neatly cropped boyishly short. A relieved smile spread across her face.

“Evee?” Olivia asked. “I, where are you? On the ship, I mean.”

“Ms. Hawke, I am the ship,” Evee said. The hologram flickered. “You’re aboard the Evelyn Kane, one of the last such ships humanity has left.”

Has left?

“But where are the crew?” Olivia asked.

“There isn’t one, at least there wasn’t,” Evee said. “I was sent out with instructions to find one. I’ve been looking for you, Ms. Hawke.” Evee frowned. “Or, well, someone like you. For a very, very long time.”

“How long?”

“About two and a half centuries, by the old calendar.”

“I, what?”

“Ms. Hawke, you’ve been gone awhile. Things have…changed. And we need people like you. Please, rest. Heal. I’ll look after you. We have a long trip ahead of us.”


>>49571944
Well, I mean, "Storythread" and all that.

>>49564880
"No, I don't know what to expect of ya, but I don't know who else can help." The mayor, or at least the old pirate who ran the place, put his hat on the table. His stool creaked as his leaned sideways onto the bar, his one eye looking exasperated. "That thing has taken too many of me citizens and too many of me friends. Hell, it's taken too many of me enemies! Now, I heard you were the best hunter around and you better be after the last three were swallowed up."

"I'll do the job and I'll expect my pay promptly. I'll take that map you got of the last reported sightings." I took the map from his tired hand and hook. "Now, I'll be on my way, Ricken."

I pushed out of The Mayor, the bar the mayor owned, and I made my way back towards The Compass, my special built galleon. This job was sure to test my crew. If the beast had taken down Fry's gang then it was certainly a different sort than a mere kraken.

As I walked up the plank to my ship I could see the crew noticing me on my way up. "How'd it go Captain?" Kel was young, she hadn't quite learned to read me yet.

"Lads, raise them anchors, we got a job!"

---

I watched Favaro, our mage officer, keep his shield up as long as he could as I told the rest to get off the ship. "Abandon ship, the thing can't get us all. Spread out!" I lifted my crossbow, the bolt crackling with arcane energy, and I fired at the beast. The bolt passed through the mage's shield and bounced, inert, off the creature's thick hide. It's mouth opened wide and inside all I could see was fire. It's tentacles crashed through the barrier, Favaro collapsed, and I saw one take him. The mouth clamped down, taking the front of half of the compass into its maw. "God help me, I didn't know."

In my head I could hear a voice, giggling, child-like, "On the sea there are no gods but me". I began to slide towards the monstrosity as the ship sank towards it. "You will know your god well". It's mouth opened and i prayed my soul could escape it.

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>>49571990
>>49572093
>>49572228
>>49572250
>>49572264
>>49572276
>>49572360

Hey Salty, you wrote Mixed Party right? Well guess what, this pic MIGHT interest you.

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>>49559602
>song still plays: www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jlnvv5up0u4

The winding road was starting to lessen and the White Scarf took this as the time to gain speed.

"Dispatch, the Biker Vigilante is gaining speed. I need that air support I might not keep up with that bike of his compared to the speed of my cruiser."

"Keep pursuing and keep an eye on details and location."

Finally the winding road ended and the White Scarf has touched the main road, revved the engines again and picked up speed now that he was in a more straighter paved road.

"DAMMIT! Dispatch! Leather Jacket's reached the highway! He's gaining speed!" The officer chasing The White Scarf decided to also speed up his cruiser to try keeping up with the Biker. "I NEED HELICOPTER SUPPORT, I MIGHT LOSE HIM!"

"Where is the Leather Jacket right now?" Dispatch asked.

"He's on the highway leading to back Darlington!"

"What's the vehicle he's operating? Any license plate numbers?"

"Negative! No license plate, he's riding a Silas brand racing bike, uhhh, color dark; black with some uhh, silver stripes- AH!"

The police cruiser was close to almost hitting another vehicle as the officer was busy trying to give current rough details of the White Scarf.

"Keep pursuing, air support is on the way." Dispatch radioed in again.

The White Scarf was much faster due to his superbike, he was already getting further and further away from the pursuing officer as the only thing the cop could make out was a faint white fluttering piece of cloth which was the Biker's white scarf.

The White Scarf looked to his surroundings, he was already approaching Darlington City and was aware that a police helicopter would be bound to chase him down which would be problematic as unlike a regular car. A helicopter can keep up with his bike, till he saw an opening to the side of the highway, the Scarf figured he can slip to.

>>49572770

The White Scarf had one hand on the handle of his bike and another within his leather jacket he got out another of his smoke bombs and with careful handling and aiming, he unpinned and threw the smoke grenade from further distance. And as the smoke bomb hit the ground and the White Scarf zoomed past it the the smoke bomb detonated releasing a cloud of blinding white smoke which filled road and shielded his movements.

"OH SHIT!!!" The pursuing cop exclaimed as he slammed on the brakes of his cruiser as he did not want to risk speeding into a cloud of smoke and colliding to another vehicle. And as soon as the cruiser grinded to a halt, another vehicle that was also breaking bumped into the back of the pursuing officer's police car. Other vehicles that saw the cloud of smoke that blocked the view of the highway also screeched to a halt as more vehicles added to the pile.

"DISPATCH I LOST SIGHT OF LEATHER JACKET!!! HE THREW SOME SMOKE GRENADE! I CANNOT PURSUE, VEHICLE'S DISABLED, ANOTHER CAR BUMPED ONTO ME!"

"Acknowledged, a helicopter's already airborne looking for the Leather Jacket."

Meanwhile what happened to the White Scarf is while his smoke worked in stopping the the pursuing cop on his tracks. The White Scarf went through the open gap of the road barriers, navigated in some non-roaded dirt terrain, and he hid himself and his bike in some old-no-longer-used service pipe that lead had an abandoned sewage path leading out of Darlington City.

The spot was large enough to fit his bike through and just in time he can hear the police helicopter flying by. The police chopper cirlced around the area and overlooked the traffic jam that just occured.

"What was the last location of Leather Jacket?" The police chopper pilot radioed the formerly pursuing officer.

"I dont know, I last saw him just in the road before some white smoke appeared. He could've gone to the city." The previously pursuing officer radioed back.

>>49573053

Although the police helicopter finally flew away from the location. There was a police presence for awhile that was mostly used to clear up the traffic chaos caused by the Scarf's smoke trick. The White Scarf patiently waited for the police to disperse and for the road to clear up, finally after some few hours of waiting in his hiding spot which the police never found or even thought or knew about. Police presence was gone and the roads were clear and was back to normal traffic levels.

The White Scarf started his bike again, navigated back to the road and went back to the city without anyone even batting an eye.

>the following morning
>BREAKING NEWS

"Hello and this is Channel 4 Darlington City Local News. This just in:

Last night around eight o' clock police have received a call from the enigmatic local vigilante-hero: The White Scarf. According to Darlington Police they received a call from the Biker Hero himself about illegal drug operation in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. As it turns out it was true and that it contained the operations of suspected crime boss: Viktoria Cloven, now deceased. It is revealed the Scarf himself has once again taken justice to his or her own hands. When police arrived in the scene they've discovered many of Viktoria Cloven's associates slain by the Scarf, while some also spared and arrested by officials. Drug Mules turned hostages, who have been used as human shields have also been recovered. A chase between an officer and the Scarf ensued as the White Scarf was fleeing the area but the Scarf was able to escape and his current whereabouts, still unknown.

Current Police Chief Sophia Hester will be expressing her thoughts later this day in her scheduled public speech about this string of vigilantism by the White Scarf. And at the same time decreasing crime rates with thanks to the Scarf's actions.

More on this news shortly after."

>to be continued

>>49572549

Yeah I've been playing around with this one, but I really wanted to do a straight sci fi one. I'll hopefully have something for it soon, but don't expect anything before next thread.

Short story, horror, premise is a vampire hunter has been trapped in an old, london mansion where his prey resides over it, and he has to go kill it.

Except he already did, ages ago. He staked her in the basement, but couldn't do anything about the cursed domain. Before he could escape, the sun rose and sealed the mansion.

When the night set again, he awoke along with the other residents of the manor, no memory of what had happened the day before, and set off to kill her again, only for the night to end and repeat again d again

Sound good?

>>49564931
Concise, abstract, conveys a lot of through with very little, narrative could use some work. 8/10.

>>49571265
Well, you have to give him some credit, it was written with the Nobledark setting in mind, which means that the Humans and Eldar range from anywhere from best of butt-buddies to 'Get yer shit and get out', depending on the craftworld of origin, but they are actually allies.

>>49573649
Sounds good to me.

>>49500551
Excellent!

Point of interest, triage just means determining how critical a patient is, not necessarily giving them care in accordance with their assigned triage level, which I would assume the Healer would know. Other than that (maybe a typo here or there) it was really well done.

I also liked your use of enfilade and other tactical positioning. It definitely sent home the type of mindset the Eldar had.

>>49574305
this is what happens when your knowledge of terms comes from vidya.

>>49571264
>>49571156
Good dynamics, interesting use of spoken dialect. I feel like you could expand a bit more on the individuals presented, probably open up the bar scene with some depth.

Work on spacing, flow, autocorrect (silence defended rapidly, them knights), and capitalized letters in proper places. I'd go into more detail, but I just got off shift, haven't slept in about 30 hours, and need to finish some bills and shit.

Keep it up, man.

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>>49573334
I enjoyed following the white scarf.

Some things that you should try to work on would be use of pronouns (MANY times you indicate 'him', then double back and say 'him or her'), your vs you're, run on sentences, and especially long-winded statements from characters. I can understand why Scarf would do so; you did indicate an overly cartoonish quality to Scarf's speech, but other characters feel like they would be a bit more clipped or terse.

Keep posting.

>>49573334

During that day the current police chief of Darlington City held a public speech outside the city hall regarding the crime related activities going on around Darlington City. While crime rates have had a significant drop thanks to some of the actions of the White Scarf, it does not make him above the law and Chief Sophia Hester greatly expressed her dislike for the White Scarf. Behind Chief Hester was an outdoor screen that showed some surveillance footage of the Scarf's previous heroics.

"~This 'White Scarf' is nothing more but some hyped-up rich playboy, or playgirl who spends his or her money on these pointless vigilante crusades." The outdoor screen now showed some events that transpired the previous night. "Oh sure he or she has taken down Viktoria Cloven who has been suspected of numerous crimes and that it turns out her involvement with the Liftoff Drug is true and that she did create said drug. But White Scarf murdered her, I would've not mind if this Biker Vigilante simply restrained her and saved the innocent party involved. But The Intercontinental Affairs Agency, along with law enforcement agencies of this fine continent of Braland was already investigating the leads surrounding Viktoria Cloven. And the White Scarf just executed her in an unusual manner instead of having her face proper justice. No one, NO ONE is ever above the law and this White Scarf should know it-"

"HOW HYPOCRITICAL OF YOU CHIEF HESTER! TO THINK THE CHIEF OF POLICE WOULD UPHOLD THE LAW, ONLY FOR HER TO BE CORRUPT!"

The people around and Chief Hester were surprised by the sound of the White Scarf yelling from a distance. He was on a different bike this time, a motocross dirt bike. Various other people were flashing their smartphone cameras and the press were facing their cameras to the Scarf and before Chief Hester could order the nearby police units to apprehend the Scarf. He whipped out his specialized smartphone and activated something remotely.

"BEHOLD!"

>>49576115
You never think the monster's going to be real.

I got my start when I accidentally killed the town alchemist.That's how most of us start out: with less than noble beginnings. I was fifteen, dumb as a plank of wood, and in love with the mayor's daughter. I desperately wanted to marry her... Well, I desperately wanted to do something to her, but when you're fifteen it all looks the same, doesn't it? Love, lust, marriage, one night. It's all the same thing. The alchemist sold me something, guaranteed to make her fall head over frilly, knee-length skirt in love with me. Instead it gave her mild gas. I went back to him, we quarreled, and somehow my dagger ended up between his third and fourth ribs.

Luckily, the magistrate found his backroom full of dissected cats and the clothes of missing children. Witchcraft. Look at that, I'm a hero. I slayed the monster that had been terrifying our town for decades. When you're fifteen lust and love look like the same thing... So do infamy and fame. And hey, it got me the mayor's daughter... For the night, at least.

Monster slaying is ninety percent psychology, did you know that? The real monsters aren't out there, in the swamps and dark forests... They're in the minds of the villagers, in the minds of the terrified aristocrats and superstitious sailors. A kid once said to me: "Mister, what it'll take to be a hero like you?" And I told him some nonsense, eat your vegetables, listen to maw and paw and especially your tutor, some crap like that... What do you really need? Shiny armor, a big sword, and the ability to gauge when their price is an opening gambit or a final offer.

>>49577132
That's the other big thing: You never ask for anything. Heroes don't demand payment, you need to make that lesson number one. You don't ask... You let them offer it you. Gold, treasure, and yeah, sometimes a nubile daughter, hey I'm human. If it feels like a low-ball you hang out for a day or two, make some disapproving noises, look busy, then regretfully tell them that maybe this beast is too strong for you. Watch your offer double: two bags of gold, a crown and a scepter, his daughter and his wife.

When I got to Newhaven it all looked like business as usual. Their mayor, some landed-lord with a lineage longer than his gaudy cape, greeted me at the crossroads with twenty of his best men. They like to put on a show, these minor lords, these hedge knights. They hear you're coming, and they think: "Hey, this guy, he can put it right, he can fix all my problems," but they don't want to be unmanned by you. They're the worst cases, if I'm being honest: walking the tightrope between potential savior and potential usurper is a nightmare... Especially if his daughter starts making the eyes at you.

We negotiated right there on the road. Gold, of course. Some heirloom I promised to treasure always and have appraised later. No mention of daughters, to my mixed relief-and-disappointment. Well, you can't have it all. When he made the offer he got down off his horse, which how I knew it was genuine. These guys, when they're haggling, most of them stay on their horses, they think the height gives them the advantage. They're the ones who end up paying the most. No, this guy got right down to eye-level with me and played it straight. You don't often see straight-talking from our betters. That should have been my first hint to cut.

>>49576931
Just then the outdoor screen showed static, then footage of what appears to be Viktoria Cloven and Chief of Police Sophia Hester dating some months ago. Sophia Hester cursed quietly.

"...Shit. No no." She yelled to the technician handling the audio and video systems. "Shut it off! SHUT IT OFF!" As she yelled the technician could not control the systems, it was being remotely tampered.

"Let the people and the law witness your crime, FORMER chief of police Sophia Hester!" The Scarf said loudly in his ever cartoony-heroic manners as he also revved his bike engines and sped off, some police units gave chase in an attempt to try catching the White Scarf. And just then the new footage was being played which started with Sophia Hester herself.

"So this is how it goes huh? I'll see to it that any incriminating details about you don't get around and take care of any loudmouths that try squealing or mouthing around what you do?"

Then Viktoria Cloven in the footage spoke.

"Yep, and you'll receive cash three times what you earn every month."

"Heh, deal. This job as Chief of Police IS kind off getting boring... And maybe Darlington could use a wee-bit of crime activity with all that heroism being done mostly by Leather Jacket."

"HA! You mean the White Scarf?"

"Yeah that guy. So yeah, you got yourself a deal."

The highlight is Sophia Hester accepting the bribe money from Viktoria Cloven. This shocked the people and the press as whispers and concerned murmurs are all heard around. And Sophia Hester was nowhere to be found as of now.

"Hey Eddy did you hear? The White Scarf was out at city hall mouthing at Chief Hester! I'll get the cruiser ready, some units are in pursuit-" A police officer piped up to his partner but was cut off by him.

"Hang on command's got something to say... Wow, forget Leather Jacket. The Commissioner just called in, we gotta find Sophia Hester, this is really urgent and bad."

"You mean Chief Hester?"

"It's FORMER Chief Hester now."

>>49577205
This lord survived through trade, and his chief export was mutton. The hills around us, he assured me, were alive with the finest sheep in the land. I never much cared for sheep... Stupid creatures, easily frightened, even more easily slaughtered. When a village comes to you, begging for you to slay their monster, and you find out it's been killing their sheep, well, you can bet your monster will turn out to be a wild dog. Maybe a wolf.

One time, similar case, I caught this stupid mutt, lamb's blood still on his nose, and I spent a week teaching him to sit and roll-over. Once he had that down, I spent the afternoon beating my armor with rock, made it look like one hell of a fight, and took the dog back into town with me. Everyone swooned to see me, limping in, beaten all to hell, with the dog I'd 'saved from this ten-foot werebear' in tow. I gifted that mutt, the very beast who'd been terrorizing them, back to the shepherd who'd hired me!

Didn't like that one? It kills at the tavern... In the right crowd. You have to be one of us, I suppose.

There's a ritual, I don't know who started it, but it occurs without fail. I accept, and then I get paraded about town for a day or two before heading out into the wild to hunt their monster. You'd think they'd celebrate me after the conquest, wouldn't you? No, they like to do it up front. Maybe it lets them feel they've got their money's worth, to see me, all brawn, wandering around town. Maybe it assuages their guilt at sending me to my certain death, to give me a hot meal and a warm bed for a night. Maybe I'm just a goddamned showpiece, and they like to 'ooh' and 'aah' as I use a knife-and-fork. They always want me gone as soon as possible when I get back too. Darnedest thing.

I never saw a sheep in those hills. Two warning signs missed... Well, that's on me, I guess.

>>49577297
The cave was right where they'd described it. By this point I was starting to get concerned - not worried, no, that would be taking it too far, but concerned. I was beginning to think there might have been a black bear involved. Even in armor, with a sword, you don't want to mess with a bear in the wrong season. Scariest beast god ever put on this wide green world was a mama bear with a cub within earshot... At least, I used to think so.

When you're dealing with a bear your best bet is bait and a trap. I spent my first three nights in those hills digging pits near the cave, filling them with sharpened branches, tossing in a rabbit or a fox as bait. Digging holes, sharpening sticks, it's thirsty work... Even this profession has its pitfalls, if you'll pardon the wordplay.

Going on a week I still hadn't trapped her. Saw the evidence of her on my eighth day, though. One sheep, eviscerated, gore all over the trees, real nasty. Fresh, too. If she got out, got around my traps, well... It was dawning on me that I'd either have to wait until winter to take her down, or go at her directly. And you don't want to wait too long. Villages are like scorned women: they quickly forget you were ever part of your life.

I picked my fight on the morning of the ninth day. Seems like there should be some significance to that... Ninth day, ninth circle of hell? I don't know. I've been thinking on it every chance I get and I'm no closer to an answer. Maybe you'll have better luck. One bit of advice, though: don't do what I did, don't stand outside the cave-mouth, all balls and bravado, banging your shield and calling out obscenities.

It's... It's not a decent way to go out, you know?

>>49577388
First thing I thought I was seeing was a cave-in. Everything, everything in that darkness, it all shifted at once. Then it took its first step out into the sunlight... And I saw the scales. Scales. You never expect the monster to be real, you know?

It was about as even a match-up as my first kill. I got my shield in front of me, thinking it would breathe fire. It won't breathe fire, at least I don't think it will. I haven't seen it show that proclivity, yet. It batted my shield away, and the strength of the blow... Incredible.

Next thing I tried was a frontal assault. Slash and dash. You ever serve in the Guard? Slash and dash is the first thing they teach you: horizontal slash, and then move, three long strides in any direction, then slash again. Repeat until target dies. I don't recommend it. Three long strides took me from one paw to the other. It took my sword from me with another swipe. It has a scar, where I got it once. Its legs are tough, maybe if you strike the scar, you can hobble it early.

I'd like to say I died on my feet. I didn't though. If all else fails, try to die on your feet. Being crushed, feeling the armor being peeled away from you like the skin from a hare, thinking there's no worse pain than the crush until the first bite... Somehow, not being able to see it is the worst part. If you can't die on your feet, try to die on your back. That's about the end-all of my advice. Die on your feet, if that fails, die on your back.

Sun's coming up. I've deprived you of your sleep... Well, I suppose a ghost will do that. Hey I'll be rooting for you. If it does you like it did me come find me afterwards, we can compare notes, maybe offer the next poor bastard some better advice before they meet the monster. My shield is embedded in the rock-face over yonder. The decades haven't been kind to it, but maybe it'll do you more good than it did me.

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>>49577258
>pic related because that's what supporting character would look like

After that shocking turn of events in which it turns out Sophia Hester was corrupt and took bribes from Viktoria Cloven, she was eventually arrested. The Intercontinental Affairs Agency, or IAA, tracked her down as she was about to escape Braland via a private aircraft and was charged of corruption and arrested. Also during the time the White Scarf helped reveal Sophia Hester's criminal involvement, he once again escaped from the grasp of the police as they once again lost track of him.

Meanwhile in the outskirts of the city of Darlington, the White Scarf rode his/her bike up to a small mountain side peak that overlooked the city as it was mid-noon.

"Nice afternoon right now eh? And what a cliched meetup place." Said a man in a somewhat humorous manner.

The man in question is an agent of the Intercontinental Affairs Agency named "Gumball" Sorenson. Agent Sorenson uses such a nickname for reasons of concealing his identity.

"Glad you're in time as I'm Agent Sorenson."

"Who is this Sorenson you speak of? ...C'mon Scarf didn't tell you? Use my codename."

"I do not see anything to fear. It only you and I in this location; two fellows who risk their lives to enforce the law and make the world a better place!"

"Tch, you seriously speak like that every time? Yeah I know, for the sake of 'character' and to obscure your identity. Anyway me and my bosses of the IAA would like to thank you yet again for helping us out in our operations here in Braland. Especially in finally getting rid off Viktoria Cloven, people who once feared no longer have to be afraid and her filthy product's gonna be off the streets very soon."

"Alas crime and evil never dies. For new players and new crime leaders will rise to fill the void of the power vaccum. But ofcourse people such as you and I will be there to stop it!"

"Mhhmm, that me and the IAA can guarantee. Oh and before I forget, here's your payment."

>>49577579
Agent "Gumball" Sorenson got inside his four door sportscar to retrieve a small envelope that contained the large amounts of money that was the White Scarf's payment and or compensation fee for helping the IAA in previous separate operations.

"Thank you fellow law enforcer and good-doer."

"No need to thank me friend. And as always we'll keep in touch and me and or my superiors will contact you for any further assistance if needed. And at the same time if you ever find yourself in a pickle, you can just contact my number. Oh and speaking of getting in a pickle, a new chief of police for Darlington has been commissioned. And this time this new chief of police for Darlington is actually an agent of ours, and therefore should be more friendly towards you. So no need to worry too much about the cops of your hometown hounding you to often. The new chief's name is Benedict Gallows by the way, I'll send you his number and he should give you call later."

"That is nice to hear Agent Gumball. And thanks again for the compensation, I must go now, for there may be citizens who might need my help!"

"Hehe, c'mon Scarf. Give the cops a chance to do their jobs this time. Anywho good luck in your quest for personal justice and again, we'll contact you if needed."

With that both the White Scarf and his IAA associate and part benefactor each drove off their separate ways. Agent Gumball driving off in his sports car leaving the city state of Darlington and the White Scarf riding his back back to Darlington, his or her home city where he or she was going to dish out his or her own brand of justice and help protect the citizens and help out the law enforcement.

The End.

Recently I've been thinking pretty heavily about an ideal escapist fantasy place where I'd like to live. It's entirely peaceful but I've thought about it a lot.

A home that doesn't exist, except in the future or in another world. Something like that.

Maybe it might be fun to describe it or something. It's been on my mind quite a bit.

>>49577779
>It's been on my mind quite a bit.
Only one way to get it out!

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>>49577868

Alright but this is going to be super cringy.

It's sometime in the future after humanity starts spreading out and colonizing other worlds, but not too far in the future. Humanity's spread was initially very slow leading to large populations in systems near Earth, but when the technology becomes cheaper and easier the rate accelerates leading to many colonized and terraformed planets with small populations. This then slows down because there's enough space for everyone, so to speak. The world this is focused on is a planet on the frontier. When it was discovered the planet seemed sterile yet very similar to Earth, so it was seeded with life across its two continents. The northern continent was settled with a city and a spaceport with several small satellite villages and the people lived a pretty simple life, growing produce or working on machine parts for ships exploring the frontier, or helping at the spaceport. Then some hundred years after the planet was settled, the uninhabited southern continent was discovered to have ruins of a primitive, ancient civilization. While the ruins were simple and their builders were long gone, humanity had not yet encountered intelligent life so archaeologists and other scientists took a great interest in the ruins. This became a booster to the planet's economy.

Anyway, so between the two continents is a sunken land bridge upon which there are many large islands forming an archipelago. On one of these islands within sight of the shore of the northern continent is the house where "I" would live.
(cont'd)

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>>49578743

I'd be someone who was born on the colony and studied history and culture off-world, producing as I graduated a fancy essay that gets turned into a book covering the colonization of the planet, development of the culture, the discovery of the ruins and the UFO flaps and social paradigm shifts that followed. The book wouldn't become popular offworld but it would become a celebrated publication on the planet, and allow me to convince the authority that I'd be allowed to live on the island and keep an eye on the old emergency shelter and automated relay station there. Since it'd be a post-scarcity society I'd be able to live comfortably alone even without steady income, instead using robots to grow fruits and vegetables and sell the excess to market in town where it could be resold or used as animal feed or whatever. More advanced foodstuffs like milk and meat could be picked up by taking a high-speed hovercar into the settlement or simply ordering a delivery via drone. I'd supplement my income by writing fiction and selling any nice trees on my property to craftsman in town. Electricity wouldn't be an issue either, everything would be efficiently solar battery-run.

(cont'd)

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>>49578760
The house itself would be constructed primarily from wood and be in a cleared space at the center of the island. The area to the west would be also cleared to allow a view of the ocean but otherwise protected by trees from prying eyes. There'd be a stone path leading to the house from the beach, and a second dirt path that goes around the island's small forest. The house would be single story and spread out, but not too large, consisting of two wings, an open area with a glass atrium extending out, and a third area between the two wings where the sleeping and bathing quarters are. The left wing would be a reading room where a 3D printer is set up to manufacture books downloaded from the network, and it would also have big glass walls. The right wing would be a more casual dining and entertainment room with computer screens and some games set up. The central open area would be a large computer desk and kitchen with comfortable warm chairs and a couch set into the floor, beneath the glass semi-dome. Detached from the house would be a robotics storage box where various utility machines and maintenance robots are kept, and a second shed for storing the hovercar, a telescope and survival junk. The house would be ringed by sensor poles stuck around the perimeter of the island like an invisible fence, and if a trespasser appears a pair of automated drones would fly out and catch them in a net before calling the police.

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>>49578777
I'd spend my time sleeping in or lazing around reading books or browsing the web, or writing. But then at night I'd be doing something a bit more productive. I'd run a nightly radio show on the network, "Nightly Frontier Radio" or something. It'd start before midnight and then end an hour or two after. The audience would be people working late in the settlement, spacers in their ships trying to cope with jetlag, students staying up studying in the sole school, and tired archaeologists on the southern continent. I'd run a casual show, talking about the weather, local news and interstellar politics, read any letters sent in, play some old public-domain music, and talk about books I'd read recently. Just shooting the shit on the frontier in a friendly, relaxing way under the stars.

That's basically it. It's an escapist fantasy of isolation with all modern conveniences, pretty selfish and centrist. But it's kind of my dream world on the edge of the unknown.

There it is.

>>49578799
>Born too late to live an earthbound frontier life
>born too early to travel the stars and live your personal dreams

Life truly is suffering. I, for one, definitely want you to find a way to live it out, even if it IS just in words posted to this ASCII-esque cuneiform tablet swap meet.

>them goddamn digits, tho

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>>49578865

Yeah I've actually even thought about stuff I'd say on the radio show, which is even more embarrassing.

>>49579083
And what would you say?
Would you do speeches and whatnot?
Sounds quite nice! Tell us more.

>>49578799
man, I really wish I lived in a world that was underpopulated rather than overpopulated.

I decided to embark on a rework of a story, and posted that rework here a while back.

The writing group I'm in universally agreed that my rework was fucking garbage and told me to go back to the original version.

With that in mind, here's said original version of chapter 1. I actually do like it, but I'm worried that its ending may be a bit hokey.

Is it?


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

>>49583867
Oh hey dragon anon, Nice to see you again. Tbh, the original was the better version, and when i read it i had the sense that it was about to expand into an epic, you had just not written the rest, But the rewrite was kinda off-putting

>>49580168

What the hell? STEVE!

>What?

WHY IS THERE A NAZI IN THE OFFICE?

>Oh that's Erik, he's learning how to do inventory spreadsheets.

THAT WASN'T THE QUESTION STEVE!

>Be calm, be calm, I was getting to that. You know that mission we're going to send green team on next week?

Oh for the love of… really? They're going to get spotted again?

>Yeah, about ten seconds after they come out of the portal judging by the tag on him.

I swear, those guys are the most incompetent jackasses I've ever… Anyway, what's he doing here this week then?

>Well, according to the note, they're going to get a "507: Insufficient Storage" error when they try to send him to witness holding.

WHAT? If all the holding cells are full they're supposed to send the overflow FORWARDS. BACKWARDS is only supposed to be used for temporal distortions and major rewrites, what the hell is wrong with those idiots?

>Ummm, just guessing from the tag number here, but I think it's not just next week's cells that are going to be full…

Oh shit, don't tell me they're going to fill out the cells for the entire month.

>Five weeks actually, they're going to be using the new 'porters.

Those fucking fuckers, what're they going to do? Portal right into the middle of a rally? And why hasn't anyone just called a do-over on the whole mission? We're going to wind up using almost as much temporal engine time sending the witnesses back as it would to cover a paradox, and housing them is going to absolutely wreck our budget.

>Like the higher up give a shit about our budget. All they care about is how many successes they can present to the Senate at the end of the quarter, and a paradox counts as an automatic "Mission Failed" in the reports, don't it?

God I hate this place sometimes… Anyway, why's the Nazi HERE instead of in the holding cells?

>>49583867
However, the social media aspect of your rewrite was pretty good, and added some life into the story as well. up until the part with the military interrogation it was good, otherwise yeah. Keep on going man, you're a decent writer.

>>49585007

>Well I was thinking that, since the next month is going to be so busy it's such a bitch to re-write a witness based on the reports that the teams back-send, why not just keep him around, but outside the cells, until their mission is over? So I hit him with a behavioral inhibitor and a language pack, then set him up with a cot in one of the empty offices-

Damnit Steve, you know the regs on witness storage were written for an actual reason. What if he'd turned out to be an agent, or had a bad reaction to the mental conditioning?

>That sort of thing hasn't happened for over a decade and you know it.

Yeah, yeah, whatever, but if he murders us and starts a time-traveling Nazi empire, it's going to be your fault…

>Noted. Now, as I was saying, I set him up with a cot in one of the empty offices, and then I got to thinking, we're going to be pretty busy for the next month or so right? So why not give him something to do? So I went down to Agent-Prep, grabbed a training pack for basic clerical work, and got him started on the basic inventory tasks. I figure he'll be up to speed by the time things get busy, and we can just leave all the secretary stuff to him while we do the real work.

God… do you have any idea how many regs you just violated?

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>>49585043

>Eleven, I counted, but it's not like the higher ups are going to approve hiring any extra help, or pay us any OT for this shitshow. And anyway ops recruits out of the witness pool all the time, it's not like I'm doing anything they don't.

This isn't even remotely the same thing.

>Bullshit. If they can turn some random ass cowboy or army grunt into a Time Agent whenever they're short on manpower, why can't we have a Nazi secretary?

You know Steve, this is exactly the sort of shit that got you kicked out of ops and sent down here in the first place.

>Yeah, and?

Whatever, I don't care anymore. Just make sure he doesn't break anything, and get him some normal clothes before anyone else notices him. If anyone asks I'll them he's a transfer from motor pool or something.

>Thanks boss, he'll work out great, you'll see. Right Erik?

"JAWHOL MEIN KOMMADANT!"

>That means yes.

>>49579581

No, just casual chat type stuff. I had ideas for misinterpreted historical commentary and so on.

>>49585007
>>49585043
>>49585062
Well, couldn't follow any of that. But that's probably because it's 3am here an I need a run-up to cope with time travel at the best of times

still
>but if he murders us and starts a time-traveling Nazi empire, it's going to be your fault…
made me lol

>>49584995
Does this have the sense of expanding into an epic? I do want it to feel like it could be big.

>>49585038
The social media thing is going to happen later, I think. I can't decide between them trying that and them calling into a news broadcast.

>>49585007
>>49585043
>>49585062

I feel like this can make a good hook for Time Wizards.

Or the Ordo Chronos circa M3

>>49585007
>507: Insufficient Storage
HA! I wasn't expecting to see an Exchange error code in /tg/ story. Nice touch.

>>49586492
Yeah, he whole future-tense thing was probably unnecessary and actually hard as hell to type, but I was committed by that point.

>>49586867
Thanks

>>49587238
I actually ran into it doing custom actions in SharePoint, but yeah.

>>49586549
The way you wrote it made it seem like it would be a mixed epic in the rewrite, what with the impending banishment that would lead to a shift in balance to an entire planet, and whatever followed, but the personal interactions were also particularly good in a sense. I don't know what to say about the social media/broadcast situation though, both have their merits and downsides.

I was both of those posts btw, i'm just retarded and five minutes after the first one replied a second time.

>>49531347
>>49488478
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>>49488809
>>49504258
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>>49516105
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>>49577729

Welp the current White Scarf story's done. And thanks for your input too. >>49576889

I made the White Scarf talk like a cartoony hero to help obscure his or her identity and his or her specialized and modified helmet helps in messing with his or her voice.

I may do another story involving this setting another time though. So any further thoughts?

>>49524091
What about you man? Your thoughts now that I've finished the story? Again I'm not really the person who you think I am.

>Going to post the start of the story I'm working on, would appreciate some thoughts and feedback. I'm being a bit more verbose than I normally am.

Charles van Rickton sat overlooking the River Thames. A smoldering pipe bobbed from his mouth as he turned over a small bit of firewood and whittled the end. The fire he had pilfered from was crackling a few feet from him, turning the stone hearth ever so slightly blacker. He sighed, taking the pipe from his mouth and exhaling a rough cloud of smoke as he looked out the window. The river was alight with motes of light even brighter than the stars, ever shifting and every dancing like fairies played upon the surface.

The only noise in the room other than the fire had been the scratching of paper. But when Charles’s seat creaked under the man’s weight, the pen lifted and his companion looked up at him. “Why are you making a stake?” the writer asked. He dropped his pen and turned to Charles, brushing his sweaty hair from his face. He sat much closer to the fire than Charles, and the heat had put dark blotches of sweat into his shirt. The writing desk was a piece of master craftsmanship, covered with thousands of small carvings of flowers and birds, and the joins of wood were so expertly blended into the sculpting that it seemed one continuous piece of oak. And it was so bloody heavy that the legs seemed to have rooted into the floor and stranded Richard Estrees next to the fire.

Charles stared over at the man, the unlaced shirt had been pulled open to reveal what scant chest hair Richard had, and the wirey frame that all playwrights seemed to develop after doing slightly too many drugs. “Because I’m hunting a vampire,” Charles said, pointing the tapered bit of wood at the playwright. There was no mirth in his voice, even when Richard laughed. Charles pressed his lips together, and stuck the pipe back into his mouth.

>>49588434
“I don’t think Shadow’s Manor is home to any blood sucking beasts,” Richard responded as he leaned back. He was grinning, unashamedly baring his yellowed teeth.

Charles grunted and rose from his seat. Richard shook his head and pulled open a drawer, grabbed a loose cigarette and stuck it in his lips. “There’s a vampire in here. I’ve hunted half a dozen in the past. Nasty things, very dangerous.” Charles said as he peered out of the glass. He scratched his graying beard and squinted his eyes.

“Okay Bram,” Richard said as he looked up from the flint striker. There were small embers at the end of his hand-rolled cigarette, and they glowed white as his lungs sucked on them like bellows. His chest swelled up and he pushed out his chin. When his mouth opened again, the smoke spread out in a perfect ring. He shot out a second, before the rest of the smoke spilled out and he took a fresh breath. Charles looked back over his shoulder as a coughing fit overtook his companion. “Dried out thing,” Richard grumbled. “Whiskey?”

“If you can find any,” Charles responded. He licked his thumb and rubbed it against the soot till he could peer out. One of the drawers on the desk scraped open, and a bottle thudded onto the table. Shadow’s Manor was a massive building, twisted back on itself at least three times with chimneys, crenellations, and gargoyles sticking up against the night sky wherever he looked. There were two red dots staring back at him.

>>49587652
The current plan is to have most of the first book be about them figuring out a way to have the dragons all live, and convincing the government to believe them, and such.

If that somehow works, the second book is where it starts being fairly political, and more about integrating the societies.

My one fear is that everybody is going to like the first book for the parts where Syralth and Sal are on the run, then be severely disappointed when the second book has little to no action in it. Of course, the second half of book one is also going to mostly be about politics, but people may still feel misled.

Not that this has any chance of being published.

>>49589515
you can't spell self-published without published!