Storythread

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>>49683356
whoops

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Requesting a family related story with this family on the pic.

>>49683844
Should I know who they are?

>>49683356
Hey Bard, can you post that image macro again?

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>>49683905
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mhgWKUz0Q1U

>>49683860
If you're gonna be the one writing a story for them, well no you don't need to "know" who they are. They're not specific characters from anything. You're welcome to co.e up with their names and personalities.

>>49685509
This is the sort of picture that can inspire an entire campaign setting...

>>49684798
https://docs.google.com/document/d/14kJXJ40yZusJL9WZvIEkNd5bGg7jPq9Kx9WTvD7B_10/edit?usp=sharing

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A thousand voices speak
Even after the world's end, they do not cease.

Only I remember the world that once was.
The semblance of life,
The sound of voices echoing throughout the streets,
The smell of various foods,
All of the details of a life that have been lost.

These thousand voices did not know these details
They were outsiders, they knew nothing of this world
Not that it mattered,
Not when they could do what they wanted

They saw something amusing in me
They allowed me to live, as a pet
I was now a slave to their whims
Gifted with eternal life
Yet no other company besides them

I step out of the ruins of the Starbucks
A frappuchino of some sort in my hand
A thousand voices come again
And in one sonorous voice, they ask

"They charge how much for a cup?"

>>49688703
The more I read, the more I liked it.

Twenty seven virgins walked to the twenty seven altars that night before the battle. They shed their robes before they stepped onto the broad, stone platforms. I had never seen such perfect specimens of human beauty. Tall and lithe, in the prime of life. The soldiers under my command that night were hardened veterans, yet as I watched each naked virgin take her place I could not help but make the comparison - these women were in better physical condition than some of my men.

The priests held their knives ready. In the cold night air their sharp, quick breaths were visible where the torchlight allowed, a contrast to the measured breathing of my men. I knew though, that every man that stood on the ritual ground that night felt his pulse quicken and his gut tighten as the time drew near. Of the girls, though - I couldn't tell whether their impassive expressions were genuine or, like mine, the result of careful self discipline.

Twenty seven virgins stood in the twenty seven sacred circles, the complex lines and symbols carefully drawn upon the altars in bile of shadowcat and venom of razorsnake and weeping sap and gods alone knew what else. I call the circles sacred, but only because they were drawn by the priests. I cannot bring myself to say that there was anything holy about what we did that night.

But there was not one drop of blood on those altars. Not yet. Not yet, but the priests' knives glinted in the firelight in anticipation.

>>49689253

It was time. I signalled my men to stand ready, not shouting my orders as I normally would but simply bringing my long ceremonial spear to my breastplate as if I were in a duel saluting an opponent. The priests had started chanting, a murmur that was slowly rising. Around the ritual ground I saw my men silently return my salute more with grim obedience than the pride and keenness I was used to. Their faces looked grimmer still, under the shadows cast upon them by the firelight. My fist clenched around my spear - not a standard pike, almost a trident with a long, broad blade and a crossbar with two smaller tines at either end. I carried no shield that night. There was no use for one.

The chanting of the priests rose as they dragged the terrified, bleating goats towards the platforms. I caught some of what they were saying, the sense of some verses, the names of one or two gods. They switched between languages as fluidly as the pitch and intonation rose and fell. But always louder, ever louder as they approached the altars. I do not know the final language they spoke in, but I still give thanks for the mercy that I understood none of what they said before they plunged their knives into the goats' necks. Even without the meaning the very sound of it, that sickening, sibilant tongue that rose from the back of their throats and slithered from between their lips, was still enough to give me nightmares to this day.

The goats squeals were cut off, and but a moment later the chant ceased. Silence. Stillness, but for the receding sprays of jugular blood, misting into the air like panting, dying breaths. And the flicker of the flames.

Blood touched the altars.

>>49689335

The torch-fires around the ritual ground flared as if oil had been thrown on them. For a few seconds the area was as bright as day, and I squinted, trying to keep my eyes on the altars but blinded by the sudden light. Then the fires subsided down to barely more than embers. I blinked, blotches slowly fading from my vision. I could just see my men rubbing their eyes with confusion. The priests were scrambling back, away from the altars.

My sight returned, but there was little to see for the torches planted in the ground around me were burning low, as if exhausted by the sudden exertion. But I kept my mind on my duty and my eyes on the altars, though I could see scant more than shadows. Less than a minute passed since the goats' blood fell upon the altars. It seemed like a whole night passing. Then I saw - what did I see? Did I see them standing in the shadows on the altars? It almost seemed that the shadows themselves slowly took on forms.

Or did I see them step out of the shadows? Step out from the place behind the darkness.

One way or the other, in one moment only the virgins stood upon the altars. And in the next...

Daemons

A daemon stood beside each girl. Daemon - that word does those creatures no justice. Half as tall again as the tallest man I'd ever seen, layered with muscle punctured by jagged bone all along the spine and forearms. Necks thicker than anchor ropes, fists like forge-hammers. Skin like leather, a red so dark as to be almost black. They stood upon reverse jointed legs, which ended in ape-like feet. Horns sprouted from their heads with no regularity; some had one, others had whole tangled clusters. Their faces were almost human, but for the lolling serpentine tongues that drooled from their mouths. And the fact that they had no eyes, nor even sockets. Just empty space. Their foreheads bore in the centre a single crimson jewel, and though I didn't look too closely at them the gemstones seemed lit by more than just the firelight

>>49689448

As one, they raised their heads and howled. The sound was so intense I felt as much as heard it; it reached so deep inside me that in that moment I thought that I would never be clean again. My knuckles were white, my face a frozen rictus. The torches flared once more, though this time only burning as brightly as they had been set at first. The noise died down to mere thunder, and kept receding until there was just the crackling of the fires to be heard. I could not say if it was a cry of rage or joy, or both.

I could not call out to my men to stand firm - not without drawing attention to myself. I could not call out to them to take heart and remember their duty, though I think the words would have died unspoken on my lips had I tried. All I could do was lead by example. I lowered my spear.

All around the ritual site the soldiers under my command lowered their heavy spears as one, and I recovered a measure of my heart; pride stirred within me at their lack of fear. But we did not advance. Our task that night was only to contain what had been summoned. If that was needed.

If we could.

The virgins knelt. Standing, they had barely reached chest height against the towering daemons. Then that night's dark purpose began. Kneeling, the virgins faced the hanging phallus, displayed for all to see since the daemons were completely unclothed. Large, but not as large proportionately as they should have been. Carefully, one of the girls reached out.

>>49689527

That she was not immediately torn limb from limb was a testament to the competence of the priests. The sacred circles were there not to trap the daemons. No magic could, not for long, though still there were certain wards of containment drawn upon the altars which hopefully might slow them if the worst came to the worst. But the larger component was dedicated to firstly calling up the right species of fiend, then dampening the daemons' natural rage and instead exiting their lust. The girl's hand touched the phallus, then gripped it. The daemon let out a low growl, but it did not stop her as she started her work, and soon the object of her attentions was engorging quickly.

Nor did the other chosen virgins waste time in applying themselves to the same task. To hesitate would have been disastrous, for it would leave the daemons' minds to turn to other matters. As brave as any soldier on the battlefield, I thought, as I saw them go to work. But on the battlefield when I saw a comrade in mortal danger I could rush to their aid instead of standing powerless. Not just powerless - complicit. Quickly, the girls set about their charges with their hands and mouths. Soon, each of the daemons was fully erect. On the edge of the ground one daemon threw back his head and made a low noise halfway between a growl and a hiss, and suddenly a spray of glistening fluid shot from its jerking phallus. By the light of the torches I could see the ropey lines of fluid clearly as the daemon kept ejaculating - far more and for longer than a man, covering the unflinching girl and the platform around her. But still, the thing would be far from finished. Nothing would stop what came next.

>>49689539

Twenty seven daemons took twenty seven girls that night; like rutting bulls they drove themselves upon the utterly helpless maidens. Now, for the first time, the girls began to cry out, as the daemons pinned them on their backs or bellies and thrust their taut erections greedily into the waiting hole. The cries of pain as each girl was deflowered only drove the fiends' lust, I think. Yet still, I and my men were bound only to observe as the daemons despoiled their partners.

On the platform nearest me the daemon suddenly froze mid-thrust. I was close enough to see its pendulous testicles twitching as it emptied its seed into the girl, whose cries of pain - and I cannot say whether this made me feel better or worse - were steadily fading into gasps of pleasure. All around the ritual ground the same was happening as each phallus, gripped by a virgin channel, soon spent itself inside the bellies of the moaning girls. It is said that daemons embody the baser feeling of men - rage, predominantly, but also lust. Thus just as they are capable of unparalleled violence, so intercourse with one is more intense than any mortal experience. Overcome with the overwhelming lust of their partners the chosen girls screamed with both agony and ecstasy. And to my shame I felt my own, straining, erection rise.

The daemon closest to me withdrew its member, and it flopped sloppily out of the poor girl's body even as she tried to push herself further onto it, trailing ropes of sticky fluid. The daemon seemed unconcerned as the continued spurts anointed both girl and altar with its dripping seed. Most of its face was in shadow, but I swear that I saw a smile there, a horrible grin too savage for a man and too full of knowing for a beast. That was the closest I came to looking away, but I did not shrink from my duty. Across the other platforms I saw a similar scene, each daemon finishing its thrusting in the girl, then withdrawing.

>>49689582

If only it had ended there. But the lusts of the those that inhabit the darker realms are to the desires of men like a bonfire to a candle. There was only a minute or two for the girls to rest. On the altar closest to me the daemon flipped the girl over onto her belly, then with giant hands that dwarfed her slender form it took her hips and drew her back onto its still engorged phallus. She turned her face, and perhaps by mere accident met my eye. I could not describe the expression she bore, that unseeing stare. The girl shuddered as the erection drove into her, and as the rhythmic motion of the daemon's hips began again I saw her eyes roll back into her head.

An hour, maybe two. That was how long the debauched desecration lasted. Time became almost meaningless - had you asked me at the time I would not have been able to tell you whether a minute or an hour had passed since it began. I lived instant to instant, no past, no future - not thinking on what had gone or what was still to come that night. I focused only on my duty - to stand there in readiness, waiting for the end. If that should ever come. And all the while the daemonic bacchanal continued. Each daemon reached a climax every few minutes, yet still they continued.

Finally, though, I began to see that the daemons were beginning to lose interest in their sport. It began to take them just a little longer to return to the exhausted girls. They began to look around the platforms, casting that blood-red jewel around. Becoming more aware of their surroundings. The finale was fast approaching.

I gripped my spear tight, and readied myself. If all went well I would not be needed. If the priests were quick, and knew their work, the daemons would be banished back to whatever plane they came from.

>>49689603

But if they didn't my men and I would be called upon to contain the creatures until the priests could finish their work. Our long spears were meant to keep the fiends back, out of reach. Each of the several dozen hand-picked soldiers there that night were skilled veterans, but I had no illusions - should one of the beasts slip free, many of my men would die. Torn limb from limb by a laughing monstrosity - I had seen it once before, in other circumstances. Should more than one slip free we would be lucky to contain them long enough for the priests to banish them at all.

The priests were well practised in their arts, though. I do not know how they identified their moment, how they judged the balance between the success of their endeavour and safety. All I know is that an hour or two after the ritual had started, a priest appeared beside me. He looked at me, caught my eye, making sure I was ready. The priests, who had spend the time since the blood touched the altars carefully behind the lines of my men, now stepped forward again. They each carried a bucket. It would be mostly horse semen in there, readily obtained from the stallions of our cavalry. Some oxen as well, from the wagon teams. The freshly milked seed sloshed gently in the pail. No doubt the priests would have added their own contribution as well, for added potency.

Death to summon death, and life to banish it again. This was the most basic tenet in all of magic. And as the blood of human sacrifices summoned the greatest daemons - though I know not who would be insane enough to attempt such a thing in this age - so man's seed was the greatest protection against evil. Mine coated the blade of my spear, just as each of my men had done to theirs. Nature had ordained it that even the lowest man carried a greater weapon against evil than the best of women.

>>49689610

Slowly, a chant started. It was almost more a whisper, yet there was an earnestness in that prayer. These were priests, not soldiers, yet they steeled themselves and began to walk towards the altars. The chant rose. There was no lyricism to it, no complex cadences and tones. Only a steady beat of whispered imprecation. I understood only snatches of the ancient tongue, yet my heart held the feeling even if my mind knew not the words.

As one, the priests rushed forwards. They ran to the platforms where the daemons still lay copulating with the girls, and as their mantra reached a abrupt peak they dashed the contents over altar, ritual circle, girl and daemon alike.

The torch-fires flared blue, and the shadows danced.

I could not see what happened when the contents of the buckets touched the ritual circle, not as what scarcely seemed like earthly fires blotted my eyes. But when the torches returned to normal the daemons had gone.

All but one. One priest had come within reach of a daemon, and received a blow that had thrown him several feet. He must just have missed his mark, for had he come close enough to receive the full force of the blow he would have been torn in two. I rushed forward with my spear, and saw the rest of my men doing the same - not one man among them hesitated.

>>49689629

The daemon, however, did hesitate - still inside the girl, unsure whether to finish what he was doing or turn his rage upon us. A second longer and he would have bounded off the platform and then we would have had to pay with our lives to either force it back onto the altar or weaken it enough for the priests to banish it while outside the circle. But the priests knew their job well, and in that second of its hesitation another came forward with a fresh bucket. His headlong charge would certainly have ended in his death had he been but a second slower, but as the daemon withdrew its jerking member from the girl still trapped beneath it, the priest flung the contents of his bucket over them.

I blinked as the torches flared again, and then all was darkness. Then, for the first time that night I called out:

'Fire. For the sake of all that's holy someone light a fire.' And one by one the burnt-out torches were rekindled.

As the torches were re-lit and replaced in their stands, we began helping the girls off the altars. Understandably they could barely walk, indeed, some had to be carried down. They were exhausted, bloodied and bruised. Yet for all that, they all were alive.

But it was now that their real trial would begin.

Twenty seven girls came off those twenty seven altars that night before the battle, but not all twenty seven of them would survive the night. I took one in my arms, cradling her like a babe and carrying her to the tents. She who had stood so proud and strong just a few hours before. I could already feel the tightness of her belly. If the chosen girls were not the very healthiest, strongest girls that could be found, if they were not the best physical condition possible, then they would not have a chance of surviving what followed. I took her to a cot, and laid her down. A priest came over with a cup of some murky liquid I didn't recognise. It smelled sickly sweet. He held the cup to her lips.

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>>49689644
anyone reading this? Anyway, I'll be back to post the rest later.

picture unrelated, obviously

>>49688703
okay, yep, that got me smiling.

>>49687761
I'll read yours if you read mine.

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>For the Anon who won't leave me alone with my anecdotes.

What can be said of the Count-in-Waiting, Sir Anselme du Avant? A lot of things, Sgt. Halsey thought, not all of them flattering.

Talented in the science of Anomaly Manipulation, or the art of "magic", tactically minded, and quick to pick up on the technology the Colonial Expeditionary Legion has brought to his world, the young lordling could impressed just anyone in Sgt. Halsey's regiment. If he was not such a self obsessed little know-at-all. There was a limit to even Sgt. Halsey can stomach in a person, a man who has commanded many quirky weirdos and adverse charlatan in his time. And he had to keep the young lordling around as an interpreter.

"Du Avant! I need you!"

Halsey rapped his knuckles on his captain's door with all the ceremony the situation deserved, which is none at all. If it were any other officer Halsey would be the ideal subordinate, but the woman he had to answer to was a medal winner and a glory seeker. Some space station-born yuppie who got it in her head that because her dear daddy was some freight magnate she could get an easy pass into the Legion. Halsey's legion, the mighty force he served, his family, his muse, his home. And she took in Du Avant as some momentary fancy.

Through the thin carbon polymer door of the captain's bungalow, he heard the crashing of tangled bodies and lumpy blankets. He smiled a little vindictive smile, he caught the two love birds in the middle of something...

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>>49689970
The door slid open just a crack, two honey eyes set against dusky skin glared at him.

"Does protocol mean anything to you, Sergeant, or do you like to piss me off?"

The voice had menace in it, but Halsey took it as bluster. He knew pushed his luck upsetting an officer of her grade, but by his good fortune her superior officer liked him better than her. Still, the woman he answered to was right in front of her.

"Not at all Capt. Kassab, I apologize for the disrespect." He assumed a salutary stance and the typical stoic scowl of a Legionary.

"A local girl from a nearby hamlet has requested my team's assistance in addressing a recurring theft problem. She suggest it could be goblins. I need my interpreter, Sir du Avant with me."

Before Kassab could mouth him off, as he knew she would, a second voice erupted from inside the bungalow. One rife with pomp and drama.

"Goblins! By the Eisenlowen, Goblins you say!?"

The next moment, the door slip wide open and bursting through was a young blonde man dressed in sky blue robing. His face curled in phony indignation.

>>49689970
>>49690215
I am not that anon that bothered you, but thank FUCK you are working on it.

>>49689644

'Drink.' he said. 'You must drink this.' Slowly she sipped at it, having barely the strength to sit up. As I left the tent I could already see visible sign of a bulge in the area of her navel.

I sat outside the tents for the rest of the night, along with my soldiers, while the priests tended to the girls. Dawns first rays were just bursting from the horizon when I heard the first cries. First, cries of pain, of exertion. Then after not long these were steadily replaced by mewling, squalling cries. A priest raised the flap of the tent, I nodded to some of my men. I drew my long knife, and with my men entered the tent.

Just in case. You never quite knew how it would turn out.

The priests were cutting umbilical cords as I entered, while one or two of the girls still lay in the final stages of labour. I was ready to do my duty if called to it, if it proved necessary and the knives of the priests inadequate. But all I saw as I looked around the tent was mothers peacefully nursing their squirming newborns.

You would have to be insane to summon a daemon, even a lesser daemon, to fight in a battle. It had been tried of course, many times - there seems to never be a shortage of madmen in the world. But a true daemon has no concept of loyalty, duty or obedience. They can occasionally be compelled to a course of action, but only in the most exact of circumstances, and a battle is anything but that. Should a priest or sorcerer loose a daemon to fight an enemy army, they would inevitably kill as many of their own soldiers as they would the enemy's (and most likely themselves as well).

>>49690732

But, if you were careful and knew exactly what you were doing, you could still make use of the powers of the under-realms. Should men do such things? Most would say no, but in truth the darkness is as much a part of creation as the light. I cannot say myself. All I can say was that the approaching battle was not one we could afford to lose. So, under direst duress, having deferred the decision for as long as they could, our generals commanded the creation of the half-breeds - beings with a good measure of the strength and power of their sires, but not as wild, not as uncontrollable.

I stood in that tent and listened to the mothers whisper to their babes of the hated enemy. How they could find the energy to talk, still lying on sheets slick with their birth-blood, I can't imagine. They whispered of the rightness of our cause, and the vileness of our foe. Their babes had horns and dark red skin. Some had the inverted knee joints, and some the hand-like feet, and a few both. All of them had the ruby jewel set in their forehead, and all had human eyes. The innocent eyes of babes that made me weep to look upon. And as they nursed from their mothers breasts, each heard the story of our people - their people. Each knew that we must win the coming battle.

>>49690746

Not all the mothers survived. Two died in during the night, bodies withered by a pregnancy that ran the course of nine months in a couple of hours. Even the concoctions of the priests could only do so much. One died in childbirth, as the sun's first rays were creeping under the tent-flaps, too exhausted by her trials to endure that final hurdle. Her child left with her. They were all carried out covered by pure white sheets. Those women would be given funerals with as many honours as any soldier ever received. In my opinion they deserved more than we could ever give them. It should not fall to our womenfolk to shoulder such a burden, not while our men can still bear arms, yet knowing the plight of our people each one of the girls had volunteered.

That left us with twenty-three half-breeds. One of the girls had failed to conceive entirely, despite the fact that, as I can attest, the creature she had offered herself to had done no less than any of the others to beget a child on her. You may think it a mercy, and I can understand that, but for the fact that she had come prepared to do her duty. Maybe it takes a soldier to truly understand, but failure must lie bitterly on her, especially since it meant that what she had endured during the night had been for nothing. And especially since she watched three girls she had shared her duty with carried out under pure white sheets.

The girl I had carried into the tent after the ritual ended survived, though. She nursed her baby even as the priests brought her another drink that she was almost too weak to swallow. So thin and pale she looked, compared to the blinding beauty of the girl who ascended to the altar during the night. Her child had the immature nubs of two horns, one at the front and one at the back. He suckled greedily as she told him of the story of the enemy's betrayal of an alliance a century prior. A priest appeared by my shoulder; he carried linens.

>>49690757

'Lift her, please.' he asked. And once again I picked her up, off the bloody sheets. It was all too easy, she was so light. She did not stop talking to her child, except briefly to smile at me. Her face looked sallow. On my arm I could feel the blood still seeping from her abused genitals. Some of the women here would recover, in body at least, but many would never to be able to bear children again. And one or two might not be able to walk unaided, or urinate voluntarily again. Many soldiers feared being crippled more than they feared death; there were many armless or legless beggars in our cities. I prayed that these women would continue to get the care that they deserved. The priests would not abandon them at least, although I knew - as they did - that they were unlikely ever to find husbands now.

The priest changed the bedsheets quickly, and I laid her down once more. Then I left the tent. I wasn't needed - each newborn was attending to its mother peaceably.

The rest of the morning I waited by the tents with my men, still an honour guard of sorts, as regiments assembled in the camp around me. The memory of the night before faded in me, until it almost seemed like a dream compared to the real, familiar experiences of the beating heat of the sun, which grew steadily throughout the morning, and the dust of thousands of marching men clogging the air. I almost wished I had marching orders of my own, but my unit would be among the last called upon.

>>49690770

By midday the half-breeds were fully grown - shorter than their sires but still a head taller than the tallest soldier we had, and far more heavily muscled. Our army took to the field, drawn up facing the enemy army down the valley. The enemy had drawn up in one long phalanx, so vast is stretched almost across the whole floor of the valley, flanked by mountains on either side. We organised in blocks of five hundred men. My unit deployed last, with our more usual arms - tower shield and spiked punch shield - accompanying the half breeds onto the field. Their mothers came with us, supported or outright carried by the priests, chiding their offspring and guiding them as they gambolled about in excitement. They had each been fitted with armour, breastplate and greaves - though they would not tolerate a helmet. They had also been given a sword, as heavy blade as long as a man which they carried with ease; although likely as not they would forget it when the carnage started.

An hour after we deployed - during which the already weakened mothers had to suffer the summer heat, and had the greatest difficulty keeping their children attentive - the enemy phalanx started to advance. The sounds of their horns reverberated from the mountainous walls of the valley. They would seek to push us back, force us along the valley back to our camp, grind us beneath their advance.

Less than five minutes before they reached arrow range, our archers redeployed, shifting their formation to the left side of the line and tightening their ranks. It's unlikely the enemy commander saw, but even if he did the phalanx formation was too inflexible to respond in time. Our archers carry only shortbows, but even so they were able to loose several volleys before the order to cease fire was given, as the enemy neared. All into one small section of the enemy line about a third of the way in from the left. Then our archers withdrew between the gaps in our cohorts.

>>49690788

I could almost see the enemy's eyes, so close they were at that point.

Twenty-three half-breeds charged at the enemy on the battlefield that day. They burst out from our lines, running, jumping, galloping across the field. Their charge looked unstoppable, but unlike a horse or elephant these were not dumb beasts. When they reached the enemy lines - at the point where our archers' volleys had struck and felled a good number of the spearmen - they neither shied away nor threw themselves blindly onto the spears of the phalanx. Instead they stopped, and began plucking the spines of the hedgehog. Our enemy uses spear with a hook a little way back from the stabbing point, almost like a sickle blade. A wicked tool - if the point misses its mark when jabbed forward, then the hook had a good chance of causing damage on the back-pull. The enemy were especially adept at aiming low and pulling men's legs out from under them, crippling them and leaving them easy targets.

Of course, the hook-spears were got caught more easily as well. Not such a problem, normally, but when facing opponents with far greater strength... one by one the spears were pulled from the hands of their owners, except for the few foolish enough to try to hold on, who were jerked out of their line and promptly butchered by the joyful half-breeds.

With a gap opened, the half-breeds batted aside the last few spears with their long swords and lay into the enemy. It was a slaughter. The enemy carried short-swords to supplement their spears, but they might as well have been knitting needles when used against the half-breeds. The long swords went through two, three men at a time, armour and all. And if one lost their long sword, they simply began tearing the foe apart with their bare hands. Even where the phalanx could bring its spears to bear, the hooks prevented the spear-tip from penetrating to the length it needed to kill one of the creatures.

>>49690799

Still, I saw one fall, and then another. They were not invulnerable. But they did not need to be - they just needed to cause enough damage before they died.

Our own horns blew a rousing note, and our infantry began to advance. On the left side at least - on the right, although I wasn't present to see, we held or gave ground as needed, seeking not to break through but simply to fix the enemy in place while taking as few casualties as possible.

The entire left side of the enemy formation was weakened by the ceaseless, heedless charge of the creatures, for when they cut their way through to the back of the enemy line they did not simply keep going, as a cavalry charge would. Instead, they spread out, across the unprotected rear of the formation, and wrought havoc as they danced through literal rains of gore - more than once I saw the shattered corpse of an enemy soldier thrown high into the air, to land among his comrades. But they were outnumbered thousands to one, and still more of them fell. They did not stop. They did not seem to care.

We pressed forward, our infantry shoulder to shoulder, pushing our way into their formation. Hot, so hot under that sun. My iron-nailed sandals dug into the dusty dirt, and we pushed. I deflected blows with my punch shield, even as enemy spears tried to hook my tower shield aside, and then returned the favour. Sweat beaded under my helmet and ran down the back of my neck, and we pushed. Men screamed as they fell, and were trampled under foot by the advancing formation. I could not tell whether they were comrade or enemy. The weight of men was making it difficult to move or even breathe, and still we pushed.

It was a hard fight, but I have fought in harder. The enemy was brave, but they couldn't stomach the carnage inflicted on them by the half breeds, and on the left side of the line resistance began to slacken.

>>49690811

Where the half-breed breeds had hit the line, we broke through, streaming through the gap and reforming at the rear.

The battle was over the moment that happened. If their left side had held, and tried to conduct an orderly retreat, or if the right had thought to withdraw as soon as we broke through, then the enemy might have saved the larger part of their army. As it was, their left side broke ranks and shattered into thousands of fleeing men. And the right - I don't know what happened on the right. Perhaps the enemy commanders couldn't believe that the victory they had assumed was theirs was lost, or didn't realise that we'd broken through on the left. Perhaps they thought a break-through of their own could still save the day, that their left would stand firm and hold us while they defeated us on the right and swung around.

Either way, their left side fled, their right side stayed, and we were free to surround almost half of their army and slaughter them nearly to the last man, until the last few haggard survivors surrendered. Meanwhile, thousands of those who fled were cut down in the rout.

It was a glorious victory.

I found myself walking through fields of the dead and dying that evening. Others soldiers from our army walked the fields, putting enemy soldiers out of their misery. Priests and healers also stepped between the mounds of ruined bodies and broken armaments, giving succour to our own wounded. But my orders were different; I was searching for something else, accompanied by some of my men, and a few priests. It wasn't hard for us to find what we were looking for; their cries were not easy no miss, nor like any of the others that rose from that field.

>>49690828

We only found two. The rest had fallen, many carrying dozens of separate wounds. Where we found a wounded half-breed, we brought its mother out onto the field. I hated to bring them out among such scenes, especially in their condition, but they were the only ones who could get close enough.

One half breed was lying on a pile of messily dismembered enemy spearmen. It could not stand, indeed it was barely conscious. But it had done its task, and done it well. I thought I heard its mother whispering to it as she cradled its head in her arm. I could not hear what she said, but I think she told it of our victory, for it smiled as she slit its throat. Those all too human eyes looked, uncomprehendingly, into hers as it died. She began sobbing, and I stepped forward and carefully, gently, closed its eyes before I drew her away.

The second was still walking, although it seemed dazed, and was bleeding profusely from many wounds. Our men were giving it a wide berth, as did we. Its mother walked forwards, although the half-breed didn't seem to notice her at first. This time I could hear as she said, softly, a single word to her child:

'Victory.'

The half-breed focused on her at last, and a smile split its face - completely devoid of guile, only an innocent joy. It raised its fists into the air and hooted in what I presume was intended to be a cheer. Then its mother beckoned to it, and it came close and knelt down so she could embrace it. She wrapped her arms around its neck, and pressed her cheek against its. Then carefully, with one hand she withdrew a knife from within her robe and drove it exactly into the half-breed's jugular vein. The half-breed jerked back in shock, but fortunately it didn't lash out. It fell quickly, founts of blood sparkling in the red-orange light of sunset, and spasmed a few times before lying still. Its mother collapsed on the spot, and we rushed over to carry her back to the camp, through the newly planted graveyard.

>>49690842

Darkness had fallen by the time we reached the camp, and I saw the altars, under the flickering torch light, exactly as they had been one day before.

How much had we sacrificed in just one day? Enough to save our people it at least. That battle would be ever remembered as one of our greatest triumphs.

You cannot have victory without sacrifice, just as you cannot have life without death. I tell myself that every day. I remind myself of what our victory that day won us. I remind myself of the fields and farms that lay unpillaged behind our army. I remind myself of the cheering crowds as our soldiers returned to the capital. I remind myself of the tears in my father's eyes and the laughter of my nieces as I returned to my village from a war than never got to touch them.

But still, what is it that I *cannot* forget? It is the sacrifices.

--- The End ---

welp, yet another long-ass story that no one will read. Although if you did get to this point, how did you like it? I was going for a mix of the weirdly profound and the profoundly weird.

>>49690938
I want to read it, but I really am intimidated by the length.

>>49691171
Dude. You should.

>>49690938
I'm not gonna link everything at once, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. I personally think it was a bit too overexplained or overthought in the beginning, but without detailing the level of pain and degradation that the women went through you couldn't feel the pain of the last two completing their duties.

That one, though...that ONE...that one got me. I would go into detail about a personal anecdote, but it is neither here nor there. Suffice to say I felt her pain in such a way that the storyteller could.

Finally, the battle scenes felt a bit aloof. I understand that the main character is on special assignment and can't dedicate his efforts to the battle, but I would have assumed his knowledge of the battle would be larger in scope. Somewhat of a "top down view" of the battle plan, so to speak. t. /k/

Thanks again for the good read.

Still hacking away on this: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1fC1TACtbBVL9ko-KOQTrJdxB_s6sIVSCVypU_5C1JL4/edit

>>49692126
Note: mostly hacking on chapter 2 at the moment, which is linked in the document

>>49689970
>>49690215
The anon who inquired you about continuing Fairy Problems here.

Wow looks neat Ironquill, good to know that something as interesting as the one you're writing is still being continued. And I like quite much so far. Thanks for continuing it, just love to see that being completed and not left to dust and all.

>>49693784
>Gritty21stCenturyRebootOfPowerpuffGirls.jpg

>>49693901
don't give hollywood any ideas.

>>49693784
>>49693901
>Gritty futuristic PPG remake
>its actually well written
>despite the girls being dpeicted as adult women, they're written well, are funny and likable and are actualy voiced by the original VAs
>Pretty much better than the recent pro-feminist-sj-gurl-power reboot

>>49693901
Wait, is >>49693784 actually meant to be the PPG? Because all the colors line up.

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>>49693938
So is someone going to write the story of three deadly cyberpunk operators busting a genetically mutated monkey, or will I?

>>49693973
If you have the ability to do so, then do it. Though it'd be a bonus if you don't make it way too obviously PPG.

extra bonus points if you do a "better" version of the trans-unicorn-gender bullshit episode.

>>49683844
The Richardson-Aemaris Family.

The family was composed of longtime married couple; elven officer Colonel Zentha Aemaris and her husband Kyle Richardson, who is of the same rank as her. Along with their half-elven children; the son, Garynn Aemaris and Carlin Richardson; the daughter.

Colonels Kyle Richardson and Zentha Aemaris are both official ranking officers of the Cosmic Confederation and both of them met during service. They both met when they were still lower ranking officers during “Operation Red Sun” against the Earth Government Alliance. Operation Red Sun was about attacking the Nyx Colony in the planet Tyria 9L30 and capturing it to gain a foothold and to reach the Sol System. It was however a disaster as it turns out the Nyx Colony was a heavily militarized zone and had sophisticated weaponry which annihilated nearly the entire attacking fleet, and only one ship and its crew remained which the very ship Kyle Richardson and Zentha Aemaris so happened to have command in. The ship at that time was damaged and was able to escape before being completely destroyed by the Nyx Colony’s defenses which resulted in their ship crash landing to an uncharted and uninhabited planet which fortunately no Earth Government forces found; otherwise they would’ve been hunted down and killed.

And during that time of being marooned and far from any allied forces and friendlies in a planet filled with wildlife that may or may not be hostile and not to mention all the higher ranking and superior commanders were killed during the failed operation and Kyle Richardson and Zentha Aemaris were left to command the remaining and surviving Confederation Personnel.

>>49694083
2. Fortunately after what was approximately a few months of being marooned in a planet while also fending off against the wildlife and the fear of being found and hunted down by any Earth Government Forces, they were finally saved by a rescue party thanks to a distress signal they were able to send out before crash landing to a planet and losing any form of communications. For their distinguished service and for leading their remaining comrades to safety and for surviving the worst, both Kyle Richardson and Zentha Aemaris were awarded with prestigious honors and both were promoted to Majors.

After the failed operation some following months they both grew fond of each other, started going out in dates during off duty times and eventually became a couple. A few more years while the Cosmic Confederation and the Earth Government Alliance were still in hostile terms, they continued doing their duties as newly ranked high officers. While Kyle Richardson was more of an “armchair general or officer” who mostly did a lot of cushy bureaucratic work while still commanding personnel and respect for his previous acts of leading marooned personnel to safety in an uncharted planet. Zentha Aemaris continued her career leading any of her men and subordinates in combat and or aiding in the front lines and fields. Although she is an elf, she is not born with magical powers and or gifts like her parents or some of her ancestors and other relatives, but it has not stopped her from being a skilled soldier and or fighter and commanding officer who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty and bloody. She is sometimes known and even seen to lead her troops and personnel with a sword in her right hand and a plasma pistol on the other, but sometimes she would slaughter entire enemy squads with just her blade.

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First Warhammer related prompt

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>>49695678
bump with pics if possible

>>49687761
I liked this; very good. Powerful, and richly descriptive.

>>49691511
I'm glad you liked it; it's been a while now since I've managed to write something anyone thought worth responding to.

>I personally think it was a bit too overexplained or overthought in the beginning
yeah, I tend to do that. I really need to learn to prune my prose properly. Although, as you say the detail was necessary to a certain extent. I wanted to draw out the very beginning because I wanted to leave the reader guessing about the exact nature of the sacrifice ('Sacrifice' - that can be the title btw). And as you say if I'd faded to black at any point it would make a lot of what followed a lot less meaningful

>the battle scenes felt a bit aloof.
I didn't want the reader concentrating too much on the army in general. This story was just about that one section of it. And although can't say I intended it to feel so sterile - I just seem to end up writing like that - I think it works in this instance given that the narrator is a old soldier who has tried hard to remove himself from the memories; only in places the underlying emotion shows through, as in this paragraph

>>49690811
>We pressed forward, our infantry shoulder to shoulder, pushing our way into their formation. Hot, so hot under that sun. My iron-nailed sandals dug into the dusty dirt, and we pushed. I deflected blows with my punch shield, even as enemy spears tried to hook my tower shield aside, and then returned the favour. Sweat beaded under my helmet and ran down the back of my neck, and we pushed. Men screamed as they fell, and were trampled under foot by the advancing formation. I could not tell whether they were comrade or enemy. The weight of men was making it difficult to move or even breathe, and still we pushed.

where you could almost think something in the narrator was about to give under the strain of the memory, until he pulls back and simply concludes

>It was a hard fight, but I have fought in harder.

This is a story from when I was new to roleplaying and was really awkward at it, not much "character" in the character. The story itself isn't much, but it gave me an inspiration for my next character.

Since it was my first time roleplaying, the DM had made your characters beforehand. We started on lv. 2.
I had a Bard/fighter, who was the son of a noble. Despite being the only son of the Castellanos family and being taught to work in finance business, Garivald was socially awkward. He preferred to play the lute instead of talking to people.
He was sent to a small farmer town which his father had recently bought, to see why they've had problems paying their taxes.
Lynx, a ranger (read: indian) who hated humans, especially city-folk, was in debt to the Castellanos family and was hired as a bodyguard for Garivald.
In the town, Garivald met a Half-(read:two-thirds)-orc Barbarian, Pacifix and a Druid with dreadlocks (read:Jamaican), Wise Elk. Pacifix and Elk were accused of theft, but Pacifix simply didn't know that you had to pay for the apples that were in the boxes. Garivald paid for the crimes the two committed and hired them as his bodyguards.
Once Garivald reached the town hall, the town elder told the group that the place has been raided by bandits for a long time now, farms have been burned and people are kidnapped. There is no military in the town, so the village had to just bear with it. After an awkward dealmaking, the party gets ready to look for tracks in the latest place that was raided.
They manage to find a few tracks leading towards the swamps, and get ambushed on the edge of the swamp by imps.

After the battle, Garivald was nearly killed, bt managed to stabilize himself. Pacifix managed to capture one of the goblins after three failed attempts to knock out the three other goblins.
1/

>>49699383
The goblin, being held in one of the gigantic arms of the big orc with a scary voice, breaks and tells us everything: the prisoners are being held in the middle of the swamp/forest, inside some ruins. There are a large group of goblin raiders there, waiting for order from their Warlord, Uglug.
We inform the town elder about our findings, and he offers to give us a bigger reward if we rescue the captured villagers and kill the raiders. Once Garivald was done healing his wounds, the group went in the swamp. During their trip, Garivald and Lynx realized how hard it is to move in such areas. The two got sick with swamp fever, but Pacifix and Elk almost looked like they were taking a bath in the bog.

After getting drenched several times, the party arrives to the ruins, and see the goblin pack. Two of them are riding on top of spiders and among the goblins, there stands a hooded man. After a little planning, the group moves to attack from two sides. Wise Elk and Pacifix were going to serve as a distraction, as Garivald and Lynx free and escape with the prisoners. The plan failed due to Lynx losing his nerve and being impatient.
Immediately the whole group sees the hooded man turn into a wererat, which flees from the area instantly, and we're left to fight the goblins. The fight was messy, everyone survived, but Garivald had another near-death experience. While untying the captives, Wise Elk finds a note, which seem to be orders from the Warlord Uglug.

RAT BITE MAN, GET MORE RATS. MORE RATS BITE MAN, SOON ALL MAN RATS.

Translation: Uglug wanted to destroy the village from the inside by turning everyone into wererats. After checking the captives for unusual bitemarks, returning to the town and informing the elder, we had another task at hand; Hunt and kill the wererat.
2/

>>49699644
The very first thing we needed was information; we needed to know about wererats, their powers and weaknesses. Garivald went to see the local wizard with Wise Elk and asked for books about lycanthropes. The wizard and the druid had a little argument with each other, one calling the other a dropout from the magic university and a filthy treehugger and the other calling the one an autistic nerd for needing to know how spells work and doing unnatural shit.
After getting some dusty books, Garivald and Lynx stayed in town to study the books, while Elk and Pacifix went to consult the spirits (read:smoke some good shit) in the edge of a nearby forest.
Garivald and Lyns found nothing but silly pictures drawn by a child, but the spirits told Wise Elk in his visions that the wererats are weak to silver weapons. After sharing the information, we start asking the local blacksmith about a silver weapon on a poor former town. Our first thought is to smelt silver coins into a dagger, but before we get to do something that stupid, the blacksmith tells us that some there's one old family in town that has a silver dagger as a heirloom. Garivald visits the man, pretending to be byuing the dagger for his collection of unusual items, but Pacifix ruins his facade.
"HELLO OLD MAN. ME AND BOSS ARE LOOKING FOR DAGGER TO KILL A RAT. PACIFIX NO LIKE LYING."

Strangely, without panicking, the old man simply says the dagger was stolen by one of his servants just last night. He lets us investigate the crime scene and tells us where the servant used to live.

The servant's shack had bloodstains on the floor and we found tracks leading to a forest. After a day of tracking, the party finds the dead body of the servant, with the silver dagger stuck in his chest. The man had killed himself. Then we're ambushed by lizardmen.
Thankfully, the battle was quick, but yet again Garivald had a chat with the grim reaper. Being so often on death's door has had an effect on his mental health 3/

>>49699872
After healing up a bit and considering whether the bard has developed an addiction to healing potions, Garivald checks the servant's body once more and finds a suspicious bite mark on it.
The party discusses about their findings and agree that the old man is actually a wererat. They return to his mansion to spy on him. Indeed, the old man was a wererat. Garivald caught him leading one of his servants inside a shack and biting him. Garivald sneaks behind the old man and stabs in him the back, killing him instantly. Outside, Pacifix had accidentally alerted some servants of the mansion, who immediately turn into wererats and attack him.
The fight's tough, as Garivald is the only one with a silver weapon, making him the prime target. At some point during the fight, one of the two wererats manage to bite him, and Garivald gets to chat with the Grim Reaper once more. Apparently he likes cats.
Pacifix gets angry at the annoying rats poking him and always dodging his attempts to pu them to sleep. This time he hits. Both of them. At the same time. The monsters thought that the giant, man-sized club wouldn't hurt at all, since it didn't have anything silver on it. The poor things didn't even get to say "ow".

After having an interesting conversation about cats with the Reaper, Garivald regains conciousness and realizes he's been bitten. Fortunately he remembers that there's a poisonous plant that's said to kill the infection of a the lycans and without hesitation eats something that could potentially kill him for real. By some stroke of luck, Garivald doesn't become a wererat and survives the poison.

The party gets their reward and well-deserved rest after returning to town. Garivald has grown paranoid and thinks that everyone in town is already infected, but those are just his insane ramblings.

>>49699872
The story continues with the party fighting Uglug's Army, Garivald breaking vials of Alchemical Fire on his hand (he didn't mean to, it was because of the locust swards that scared him), killing a couple of monsters with his own Lute, et cetera. Each time Garivald had a near-death experience, but never quite got to visit the Reaper's home.
At some point in our advendures, Garivald overheard Pacifix talking about him with some npc.
"HE'S NOT A NORMAL HUMAN. HE IS LITTLE, WEAK AND KEEPS DYING. BUT HE NEVER STAYS DEAD. I THINK BOSS IS IMMORTAL."

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>>49689253
I didn't like the repetition of Twenty-Seven, I know you're going for a sing-song feel but I think it hurt more than it helped. First line is strong, overall scene is strong.

>>49689335
I don't really care what kind of spear he was using. I woulda drawn a comparison between the scared goats and the placid women. I liked the bit in the 2nd paragraph about the languages.

>>49689448
I wish the first 6 sentences felt more hurried and hectic. The transition from virgins to demons feels slow and wobbly. I want that to feel scary. Make it fast and punchy, real tight. I think the questions slow it down further.

>>49689527
Never be clean again is a good line. face a frozen rictus is good. I'm not sure why the protagonist is doing anything that he's doing.

>>49689539
I don't have a sense of why this guy knows so much about magic. If this is meant to be sexy, stop telling me about battlefields and describe the ritual blowjob.

>>49689582
Gimme a sexier description that Adjective-Bodypart, bodypart adverb adjective bodypart.

>>49689603
What did he see? I'd like to know why all of this is even happening. I want more setting, something to give me context.

>>49689610
What the fuck is happening? Is this seriously a magical realm about Jerking Off on your weapon?

>>49689629
You've lost me

>>49689644
This whole thing should have been about 75% more condensed.

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>>49690215
I'm getting a bit lost in the pronouns here.

>>49694083
>>49694125
Good effort. I would try to break up your thoughts a bit more, not just with punctuation but with style. It reads a bit like cliff-notes of a more interesting story.

>>49694125
3. But eventually for both the Cosmic Confederation and the Earth Government, hostilities between the two have started to die down when both intelligence agencies from both sides discovered a plot from another alien empire; the Serrysh Empire. A race of amphibian-like aliens who are big warmongers and jingoists who planned intrigues to further instigate hostilities between the Cosmic Federation and the Earth Government, only for their plans to be foiled by both factions’ intelligence agencies. Then both the Cosmic Federation and the Earth Government declared war to the Serrysh Empire and it was also that time when both factions decided to hold negotiations for some form of peace in order to neutralize the threat at hand, and both Kyle and Zentha were one of the many officials who were tasked with maintaining peace as negotiations and peace talks were on going.

But the Serryshians were not having any of it and simply wanted war just to show how strong and mighty they were, so there were constant attacks from Serryshian warships against peaceful envoys, as it turned out the Serryshians thought if they were to attack any ships from Earth Government or the Cosmic Confederation containing envoys, representatives and ambassadors; any form of peace talks and negotiations between the two would cease. But alas it seems the Serryshian’s alien thoughts and logic did not exactly apply with both the Earth Government and the Cosmic Confederation and only further encouraged both factions to work together instead. And so at that point Kyle and Zentha were once again tasked to another job of commanding a ship, which had representatives from both the Cosmic Federation and the Earth Government, to ensure the envoys and other diplomats arrive safely to their destinations.

>>49706852
4. However during the time when Majors Kyle Richardson and Zentha Aemaris were in a command of a vessel containing very important diplomats of both the Earth Government and the Cosmic Federation, there were met and attacked another Serryshian warship, but this time it was a large battleship. Despite the odds stacked against them such as the bigger enemy warship and its personnel that outnumbered them. They managed to pull through as Major Zentha ordered all the ship’s power to be focused on defenses, which was just enough to absorb the barrage fire coming from the Serryshian Battleship and forced the crew of the attacking Serryshian ship to board the ship under the command of Zentha and Kyle. Meaning the attackers had to fight under Zentha’s terms, just as she planned.

Although attacking Serryshians outnumbered them, Zentha Aemaris and the defending crew whom she handpicked were far better and experienced fighters compared to the attackers who were brutish and inexperienced fighters in comparison. At one point the combined defending Cosmic Federation and Earth Government forces were able to repel the attackers so much, the attackers retreated back to their ship only for Colonel Zentha and her fellow experienced fighters to which eventually they overwhelmed the inexperienced enemies and took over the ship and eliminating the Serryshian Commander and gaining control of the Serrysian Battleship that attacked them.

As for Kyle Richardson’s part; he uncovered a plot among some hardcore Earth Government officials who despised the very idea of peaceful relations with the Cosmic Confederation, said officials relayed and gave away the location of the ship Kyle and Zentha commanded in an effort to disrupt the negotiations that was to take place. Kyle Richardson had these traitorous officials arrested and the captured enemy ship revealed more treasonous Earth Government officials who conspired with the Serrysians to sabotage potential peaceful relations.

>>49706895
5. After the ship under the command of Kyle Richardson and Zentha Aemaris that also had the very important diplomats and representatives arrived at the location where the treaties took place, it was also when the treasonous officials who conspired with the warmongering Serryshians were exposed to the rest of the factions. And thanks to intel obtained from Colonel Zentha’s bold move on capturing the enemy vessel that attacked them, the list of names of conspiring and treasonous Earth Government officials whom were against peaceful relations with the Cosmic Federation have been rooted out and arrested aswell. Because of their actions, Kyle Richardson and Zentha Aemaris have been promoted again to the rank of Colonel and received more prestigious awards fit for glorious heroes for defending peaceful envoys, surviving against the odds, and for uncovering a conspiracy that threatened both factions.

And with the combined forces the Cosmic Federation and the Earth Government, they were able to beat the Serrysh Empire’s military might and put an end to their hostilities, and Colonel Zentha Aemaris was one of the many commanders who led campaigns throughout the Serrysh Empire’s territories. Colonel Kyle Richardson on the other hand also commanded his forces against the enemy, alongside the Earth Government away from the frontlines, again he was like any other armchair commander but he still contributed the war effort with his commanding experience none the less.

But even after the war against the Serrysh Empire, both the Cosmic Federation and Earth Government still continued their peace talks and negotiations for future integration in which the Earth Government would finally join alongside a united Cosmic Federation.

As for the Serrysh Empire, now known as the Serrysh Coalition. The former leaders of the former empire have either been executed for their war crimes or imprisoned, while the rest of the Serryshian people are now under a new leadership

>>49707016
6. Some years later after the war against the Serryshian Civilization and its reformation as a more civilized group and less imperialistic, Colonels Kyle Richardson and Zentha Aemaris decided to spend more time together for their relationship now that things have become more peaceful and less hectic in the political scale of things. Kyle and Zentha continued dating while still continuing their work in service for their government, but this time in a more laid back manner due to current peaceful times backed by the further talks and negotiations between the Earth Government and the Cosmic Federation.

In a longtime Zentha Aemaris was not working in the front lines nor in the battlefields and was working in the same cushy bureaucratic workplace Kyle Richardson has been working on for the most of his military career, but at the same time it was when Kyle Richardson finally proposed to Zentha Aemaris. Zentha Aemaris is one of those types of people who’re often stern and have a serious demeanor while also not smiling very often, but the moment Kyle proposed to Zentha she was in tears of joy and she could’ve not been happier. She said yes, accepted the ring, kissed Kyle (all while in the workplace and in view of their colleagues and fellow commanding officers) and everyone around was happy for the both of them. Their wedding took place in the hom planet of Zentha’s people; ‘Seiphus’, and it was there Kyle met her parents whom were proud of their daughter’s accomplishments and the type of man she’s marrying.

Now as an officially married couple they both decided to do what many loving couples did; have children, and both Kyle and Zentha decided to take a long term leave once she has become pregnant.

>>49706442
no magical realm pls

>>49683214
Since before ape became man we have commanded flame.

We have told it to cook our food, warm our homes, forge our weapons, fuel our magics.

But Elise knew that the flame that roared in front of her was different than all those sparked before it.

A shape emerged from the embers swirling in the crater, its ruddy red claws pawed at the earth, as a predatory face, long, lean and lined with teeth skulked from the centre of the fire.

Elise showed neither fear nor awe as the creature approached, her personal symbol of summoning a startling blue against the being's crimson skin.

But she knew that the symbol was no guarantee, this was not a flame to be instructed.

This was a flame she would have to bargain with.

>>49704201
thanks for the feedback. I wish I could have said more about >>49687761 but there wasn't anything wrong with it.

There are generally reasons for a lot of the stuff you mention, e.g.
>I know you're going for a sing-song feel
it was actually more a ritual thing
>I don't really care what kind of spear he was using
that was meant to be foreshadowing. What I describe is basically a boar spear; I wanted to imply that it's meant for something big.

does it make a difference once you know the reasoning? Should I have just been less subtle, or should I still have cut it?

> If this is meant to be sexy
it isn't. Or at least, I wanted to convey that it isn't to the narrator. It's really hard to write. I don't want it to be too clinical and remove the reader from the experience, but at the same time I don't want the reader to get the impression that the narrator is TRYING to give the reader a boner. The tone I was going for with the narrator was professional detachment with an undercurrent of suppressed horror and a seasoning of barely-admitted arousal.

My guiding principal when I create a fantasy setting is that it should be internally logically consistent, but look weird from the outside. Like Japan, basically, where it is perfectly normally to ride around on giant wooden penises (there's a festival, google it). From a certain perspective, it makes sense that if you activate a summoning circle with blood then you could use semen to deactivate it again. And if you use semen to fight evil then logically, of course you would coat your blade with it if you were going to be fighting daemons. I didn't start out with the thought 'hey, wouldn't it be cool if these guys jizzed over their weapons.' I just came up with the basic rules of magic and then followed them through to their logical conclusion.

Of course, if I have to explain this for it to make sense then I've already failed as an author. But does it make any difference at all knowing what I was going for?

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[this will probably get me banned but I can live with that] Warhammer High story please.

>>49715069
Different anon here. I find the namefag's criticism to be asinine, found the story to be internally consistent and well plotted out. Don't beat yourself up over his comments.

>>49720836
Well, you know what they say about one man's trash...

>>49720836
I think he made one or two good points. Thanks for the vote of confidence on my work, though.

Either way I think this is exactly what this thread needs: not just stories, but feedback and discussion about that feedback

speaking of which
>>49707160
The writing was okay, but I can't help but feel that this would have been better in a more narrative form, and not just a long exposition dump

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>>49720895
Huh. This wasn't me. There's somebody on the internet pretending to be me, this is exciting.

>>49715069
I didn't like the repetition. I think I would have gotten a better feel for the ritual with a single, rhythmic description of the altars. But, you double-back pretty often in the narrative, so I think it's something to address overall. Just state the facts, concise and beautiful as you can.

You gave me information about the spear, as if I knew what kind of spear was used for what. If you'd described a high caliber gun, I woulda got the message - but thats the context of my time. If you'd clipped that description down, then capped it with a quick 'specifically made for felling large, unnatural creatures' I woulda got the point perfectly.

For the sexy-not sexy thing, I'd instead go for a flowery tone, maybe. Don't go clinical at all. Focus on the sensations and the feelings, what it's like to be there and hear it, smell it, taste it in the air. Find out what's important to the protagonist and tell me that stuff. Is he dismissive or disgusted?

Yes, it does make a difference. Maybe take it through for another round of edits.

>>49699257
"So, mortal, you have sought us out," the booming voice of the rightmost skull echoed through the emptiness.
"I can see that the fates have been unkind to you," the second continued, eyes flashing with white fire
"What do you wish of us, and what do you offer?" The third skull, billowing smoke from its mouth inquired.
The robed man spoke, slowly, deliberately, "Great spirits of chaos, you have seen into my fate and must then know why I approach."
Each of the smoky images of death moved in, their burning eyes looking straight into those of the man in the black robe.
"I have heard of your great power, power to tangle the threads of destiny and I wish that you change mine. I have been told I would come to serve the forces of chaos, so that is what I offer to you, myself."
A strange image of confusion crossed each of the roiling masses of smoke.
"So you wish to escape your fate..."
"By offering yourself to us..."
"Thereby fulfilling your fate."
The robed figure bent his head, smiling beneath the hood, "You are not quite as all seeing as I've been told," He tossed the robe aside, revealing a simply dressed man, wearing a coat of chainmail over his chest. "I seek to change my fate by defying it," As he pulled a sword, long and finely honed, that shone like sterling silver in the dull orange light.
And the hero stood his ground against the mounting chaos.

>>49691117
“SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!”

Vince landed badly, staggering backwards and barely keeping his balance as the ground shook with the weight of the worm’s strike. Somewhere behind him, Marcus let out a curse of his own, which transformed into a pained scream as the second worm’s tail smashed through the glyph-knight’s wards and sent him bouncing across the ground. Still swearing, Vince flung himself to the side, avoiding another strike from his worm, but was knocked off his feet as a second blow crashed into ground scant inches behind him. The swordsman struggled to one knee, craning his head around for some sort of opening, and swallowed as both creatures reared up. With one final curse, the swordsman raised his sword in a futile block, and closed his eyes.

Fifteen seconds later he opened them again. “What the…”

Looking from one worm to the other, Vince pushed himself upright. Neither of the massive beasts attacked, or, now that he looked closer, moved at all. The swordsman let out a half-confused, half-hysterical chuckle, and turned in a circle until he spotted his companion limping towards him. “Marcus! Whatever you did, I owe you so many beers.”

The glyph-knight paused, looking as confused as someone in a plate helmet can, then seemed to register the frozen worms for the first time. “Mon dieu! What did you do?”

As Marcus staggered towards him, Vince stared at his partner for a few seconds, and then glanced up at the worms. Then back at Marcus. Then up at the worms again. Vince’s brain, which had been sort of idling along in a state of a total shock, kicked into overdrive, did some quick mental arithmetic, and began sending urgent orders to his legs.

Marcus, still dazed, watched as Vince sprinted towards, then past him. “Ce qui se passe? Vince?”

“I DIDN’T DO SHIT!” answered Vince without slowing.

Marcus processed this for a few seconds, came to the same conclusion, and started sprinting after the swordsman.

>>49730428
> “So what was it that stopped them?”

“To this day I still have no idea.”

>“What? Didn’t you go back?”

“Hell no! We grabbed what was left of our gear, walked back to the caravan, and gave that damned scavenger merchant his money back. Told him not to talk to us until he’d looked up the difference between a Sand Worm and a Greater Ravening Worm. Also the difference between one and two for that matter.”

>“That’s not very heroic you know.”

“Neither is being dead kid. It’s like they say, there are old heroes and bold heroes, but no old bold heroes. Now someone top me off and I’ll tell you the tale of how Marcus wound up getting himself declared the Sultan of Dembiya.”

>>49709879
I like, the idea appeals to me greatly. Sorry, nothing more specific than that

>>49730921
"Bus" What a strange word was bus. And what a strange device. It went on wheels like a carriage but had no horses nor detectable magic. Aliro would have to record this, perhaps in the margin of his spellbook, though, from the sheer number of discoveries he was making, he might have to dedicate a whole tome to these strange devices. Of course, that's where he was going, the bookstore. Surely something not entirely foreign. Of course to get there he'd have to brave the horrors of this "Bus"

The word rang with disdain in Aliro's thoughts. He was standing of course. The seats were filthy and no he dared not try anything arcane. The mortals may catch on to his being not from their world, after all, none of them seemed to be carrying wands or spellbooks.

An alarming sight then entered the bus. Walking straight into the bus was an orc. His hair was unruly and greasy and he worse a jacket with tears all through it. He had a distinct grimace and Aliro was sure he was in for a scuffle. This would be a first,fighting on this strange horseless carriage. Oddly none of the other patrons seemed to have any concern for the fact that a monster had just boarded the vessel. In the meantime, Aliro was ready. He fully intended to polymorph this invader into one of those strange objects he had seen along the road. A "traffic light" was it? The preparation was unnecessary, the orc took a seat next to the door of the bus.

>>49731261

Aliro continued, he was sure he had passed a bookstore but he was not versed in the etiquette of leaving these buses, so he found it best to remain. The bus came to a halt again and on walked... a succubus! Another! And, oh Merlin's beard, another! Each of them was barely clad, showing more skin than Aliro had perhaps ever seen before. They were coming right at him! He wasn't sure he could handle three, but then, oddly, they walked right past him. They did not even attempt to seduce him and steal his essence. Moreover, they seemed to be conversing. They spoke of something called "Starbux"

"Starbux" This must be their god. Aliro would have to conduct research into this "Starbux" Where did it come from? What does it seek? How widespread is its worship.

The day wore on, Aliro was beginning to grow tired of this standing he missed his tower. It had such lovely chairs. As he was having this thought he saw a sight he never thought he would be so excited about. A woman with dark color around her eyes and purple-tinted hair as well as a myriad of strange piercings in seemingly superfluous locations, even as magic foci. This must be a warlock! Aliro decided to approach her, another caster was a welcome sight but as they conversed she seemed to know little about the ways of magic. She suggested that he was a participant in a "Renfaer" Another interesting word, "Renfaer" a magic ritual perhaps? It's only logical. This would have to be reported to the nearest order of paladins. Any ritual being conducted by warlocks was likely to pose a threat to his life.

>>49731261
>>49731410
May or may not continue the adventures of Aliro: The Wizard Out of Time as he gets confused by more mundane things from the modern world.

>>49723512
Well I wouldn't know anything about that. It's a problem only encountered by namefags.

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>>49690215
"Yes, du Avant. Goblins."

Halsey thanked his lucky stars, no one could see him roll his eyes underneath his visor.


"You got four minutes. Meet the team at the town gate.” Halsey said, already turning around to walk off. Du Avant snapped a salute to Halsey’s back, voice practically chirping.

“Yes, Sargent-At-Arms, I'll be ready in but three minutes.”

****

Halsey could always give credit to his team, when he said they had five minutes they got done in five minutes. Jonesy and Marstetter were both there at the town gate, all decked out in their usual kit.

Skilled as he was bedraggled, Jonesy had his ghillie hood and vest draped over the basic, tattered Legion BDU he likes to wear. All the time. It gave him an earthy stench, a small boon he called, able to blend in with forest environments. He even put dirt on his mustache. His railgun cradled in his arms, wrapped in brown rags

Marstetter looked like he could take on an entire hobgoblin band, clad head to toe in reinforced, pneumatic powered, nanoforged alloy. The already tall and burly Earth native was massive in his Power Armor, a pilebunker in one hand, deflector shield in the other, and a shoulder mounted cannon folded on his back. Just seeing Marstetter in that getup filled Halsey with a quiet pride. Men like Pvt. Marstetter deserved that armor, better than any knight of the realm.

“Mister! Mister! Mister!”

A ball of glimmering pink sparkles that floated between Halsey’s men darted at him, stopping just inches from his nose. Bubbly as ever, the young fairy girl stared at him with excitement, mouth already running a mile a minute.

“You didn’t tell you had super duper cool friends! What can they do, whatcantheirweaponsdo?! Isthebigoneaknight,canheslaydragonwithhisbigspearthingy,what’shisname?!”

Halsey put his finger to her mouth to stop her from hyperventilating herself stupid.

“My whole team isn’t here yet. We’re waiting for one more, and he should be in a moment."

>>49731528
He seems stuck in place by indecision.

Has your time-shifted magician decided to do anything yet?

We know he can think, and hear, but can be talk? The persons loading the bus must get off of it at some point; perhaps the mage witnessed their ritual of debark.

>work with me here

>>49734602
What is this?
Sauce?

>>49736300
I got it from 4chan. but a quick google search reveals that it is called 'Kzin seductress'.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kzin

>>49736300
Aslan in Traveller.

Old Traveller.

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Czechfag here. How are you all doing?
I think my brain is legitimately turning into mush at this point, but I'm actually writing again. I hope to have something to show off - silly and stupid as it may be - some time later in this thread.
Oh yeah, and bump. Gotta keep the thread alive.

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>>49743375

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>>49743397

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Can anyone spare a quick opinion? I just want to know if this reads well, I've been poking at it for like an hour and it's turning into mush in my brain:

>Deep in the bowels of the Inquisitorial headquarters on Holy Terra, there is an archive maintained by the Scribes of the Ordos Scriptus. In this archive, the most heroic victories, valiant defeats, and horrible sacrifices made by the agents of the Inquisition are recorded, so that even if the Imperium it protects may never learn of them, the greatest moments in Inquisitorial history are not forgotten. Our argument with the traffic officer over parking regulations, while our teammates engaged in a covert operation crucial to the stability of the Imperium in the adjacent building, was not one of those moments.

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>>49744146
seems like your sentences run on a little bit. I might rephrase
>In this archive, the most heroic victories, valiant defeats, and horrible sacrifices made by the agents of the Inquisition are recorded, so that even if the Imperium it protects may never learn of them, the greatest moments in Inquisitorial history are not forgotten.
as
>In this archive, the most heroic victories, valiant defeats, and horrible sacrifices made by the agents of the Inquisition are recorded, ensuring that the greatest moments in Inquisitorial history are not forgotten - even if the Imperium it protects may never learn of them.

and for the last sentence:
>Our argument with the traffic officer over parking regulations was not one of those moments, especially since it occurred while our teammates were engaged in a covert operation crucial to the stability of the Imperium in the adjacent building,

>that pic
good memories.

>>49744663
Thanks for the input, working in a bubble on this stuff can make things challenging.

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>>49744663
Wasn't that a rendition of some other historical rebuke? I remember seeing it somewhere in a list of retorts that were unmatched in awesomeness.

>>49747229
"Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks"

>>49707160

7. And after about nine months, now came their two children: the son, Garynn Aemaris who takes the maiden name of his elven mother, has the facial features of a regular human of his dad but has his mother’s elven ears. And Carlin Richardson; who takes the surname of her human father and while she has the elven facial and tall bodily features of her mother, she has rounded human ears like her father’s.

Carlin Richardson was one of the very popular kids of the same academy her mother and father studied in since she is the daughter of reputable and highly respected Cosmic Confederation officials, and also has the natural born charisma as her father and unlike her mother, she has magical powers like her other elven relatives and ancestors. Carlin became a diplomat for the Cosmic Federation which Zentha and Kyle supported her in walking the same path as they did. Carlin proved to be a good diplomat in her first assignment/mission to pacify disputes between native inhabitants of a planet who were initially hostile towards Federation Explorers who set foot on their world. Carlin convinced the Federation was of peaceful intentions and using her magical powers that her magic using relatives taught her, she even helped some of the natives’ problems by herself.

As for Garryn Aemaris, he too studied in the academy and while Kyle and Zentha encouraged him to also have a military career like them and that he’d even be guaranteed a cushy bureaucratic office position if needed. Instead he proved to be a famous person as he used his father and mother’s reputation to be a TV and movie star as one of the Cosmic Confederation’s best actors, even artists and film actors from the Earth Government respected his acting skills and charming half-elven good looks. Unlike his sister, he never inherited any magical abilities of his blood relatives and ancestors, but that did not stop him from learning the art of combat as his mother did educate him in it.

>>49749003
8. >Present day
>Planet Aygawa, in process of colonization
>Current assignment: Diplomatic negotiations with the indigenous natives
>Current Operatives for the task: Diplomat Carlin Richardson and classified asset to serve as her bodyguard and protector

As of now Carlin Richardson was tasked in meeting up with the natives of this planet that is in the process of colonization due to abundant amounts of minerals and precious materials found in this planet. The natives were not very welcoming of the Cosmic Confederation Expeditionary Forces that were setting up base in this planet as according to the natives; ‘They were unholy demons from the sky and void above to consume their blood and souls.’

The natives of this planet are humanoid canine people who’re simply addressed as Aygawans. This is not the first time Carlin dealt with a dispute like this as this was very similar to her very first diplomatic mission she ever had. Her brother; Garryn, was accompanying her, she insisted to be escorted by actual soldiers. Her parents; Colonels Zentha Aemaris and Kyle Richardson, who’re the current commanding officers in charge of the expeditionary forces in this planet, told her many of the armed forces are prioritized to defend the outpost all forces are currently using as a headquarters till reinforcements or proper defenses are to be sent in. While the natives are archaic and possessed no advanced weaponry and tactics and only crude weapons, they were relentless.

So Garryn had to serve as her bodyguard. Garryn never was a military material as he was more of celebrity type, he was still educated in military knowledge and the art of combat and defending oneself and Zentha Aemaris being the good mother and skilled fighter she is, educated her son in such topics. She educated Garryn in martial arts, self defense and weapons training when he has to fight for himself or defend someone dear. And this was when the skills taught to him will be put to good use.

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>>49750012
9. Carlin was driving in a repurposed ATV fitted with a mounted weapons and armor along with her brother who was sitting along the front passenger seat playing with or checking his gold plated sidearm that was unloaded.

“Listen Garryn, this is serious. I may have been to numerous diplomacy related situations like this, but that doesn’t mean this will be the same as previous ones. And while anything unexpected can happen, we must avoid conflict as much as possible. And this isn’t like anything like in those action flicks you started in.”

“Relax sis, there’s good reason why mom let me be your ‘sword ‘n shield.’ And yes I know sis, ma taught me everything I need to know about fighting. And your magic powers and my combat skills taught by the highly respected Zentha Aemaris, we’re unstoppable! So where exactly are we gonna meet this Dog-People anyways?”

“In a garrison of theirs up that’s about to be up ahead, forty Kilometers away from our HQ. I’ll speak with an elder of theirs who is; according to intel, stationed in said garrison that we’re heading to.”

After some ten or so more minutes of driving they arrived at the Aygawan Garrison, it resembled a wooden fortress, but with more emphasis on the native’s dog and canine like themes. “Garryn just stay here for in here for awhile. I don’t want to agitate them with your very presence. I’ll contact you through psychic contact if I need help.”

“Sure thing, whatever you say sis.”

“Garryn.”

“Hey I’ll make sure you get protected OK? Frankly I think mom and dad would not approve of your plan on leaving me here. But hey, you know more of this diplomacy stuff more than I do so I trust you know what you’re doing.”

“Look I just don’t want them agitated OK?”

Carlin left the vehicle as Garryn stayed and waited for her sister’s call as he also loaded his gold plated sidearm and also readied his sword, which was gifted to him by his mother.

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>>49750547
10. Carlin approached the garrison as the Aygawans appeared in sight aswell. And along the Aygawan Warriors was their elder as he spoke to Carlin in butchered English

“YOU. YOU WHY COME HERE! WE TELL YOU LEAVE! LEAVE WORLD! LEAVE! YOU PEOPLE WID HARD THINGS NOT WELCOME!!!!”

“You must be the elder. Listen we do not need to fight. We can arrange something to be done. Me and my people can work something out-”

“NO! YOU! YOU KILL US, YOU. START FIGHT WITH US. YOU STEAL LAND. YOU STEAL OUR LAND. YOU ARE BAD. YOU ARE DEMONS. DEMONS FROM VOID! VOID! VOID!!!”

The Aygawan Elder began ranting and yelling. While it sounded like he was yelling and ranting and raving like a deranged maniac, he was clearly saying something in his people’s language. Garryn could see all the madness from the turret gunner seat of the vehicle. He sat in the gunner seat to keep an eye out if anything sneaky was to come up to Carlin, Garryn was not too worried about them attacking her if ever since Carlin is an experienced spell caster with an arsenal of destruction magic that she could use to easily kill all those dog-like savages, all thanks to her other elven relatives who’ve helped her master the arcance arts. Plus their mother did also educate her in fighting aswell, still he cared for her and alertly watched out for anything that could go south. And he had a Gut-Feeling things would go bad, and then he saw something.

Carlin was puzzled as to what the Aygawan Elder was mouthing off about since it looked like the other nearby Aygawans were nodding to each other.

“I do not mean to interfere but, what exactly are you talking about, elder?”

“YOU. YOU WILL D-”

Before even finishing whatever that elder was talking about, loud weapons fire from the vehicle’s gun turret went off.

>>49750849
11. Carlin was first shocked, then furious as to what her brother was thinking. But then she looked back and saw some more Aygawan warriors with weapons in their hand who were gunned down by Garryn from the vehicles turret.

“SIS, TIME FOR DIPLOMACY’S OVER. THESE FUCKING SAVAGES WANT US DEAD! THOSE FUCKERS TRIED SNEAKING UP ON YOU, BUT I TOOK CARE OF ‘EM!”

The realization came as to why that elder was ranting and raving earlier, and those armed Aygawans whom were behind her and why her brother gunned them down. They never had any thoughts for peaceful talks and the elder yelled in his people’s tongue, as in giving orders the other Aygawans.

Carlin quickly turned her head as she side stepped her way out of an attacking Aygawan, their attacks were brutish but sluggish as she dodged them easily and effectively. Her hand sparked magic as she discharged electricity towards the Aygawan warrior that was trying to kill her, killing him. Garryn from the turret gunner seat gunned down the other nearby Aygawans accompanying the elder, the elder scurried off as he yelled something in his tongue to the other Aygawans at the garrison. Carlin charged another spell in her hands considering killing that elder who wanted her dead. But then another gun shot came off, that one was from Garryn who was now out of the vehicle and held his gold-plated sidearm in one hand and his personal sword in his other.

Carline looked back to see the retreating Aygawan Elder shot dead by Garryn.

“Well sis, what you say? Time for some house cleaning for that doggy kennel?”

Garryn asked as Carlin looked to see more of those Aygawans were charging towards them. She looked back to her brother and gave off a slight smile and nod. She channeled mana through her arms and her hands were crackling with magic, Garryn adjusted his shades and held up his blade and readied his gold-plated pistol.

>>49753531
All I hear in the back of my mind while looking at this is
"And what does that spell?"

>>49691117
For some reason when I look at this picture I can't help but see the murderworms as having their humans engage in a pokemon like battle.

>>49730428
>>49730467
The second post could've been a litlle more fleshed out, but I found it pretty enjoyable

>>49756969
Yeah, sorry. I tend to get about 2 posts in and then realize I really should be using my productive writing time for other projects, and wind up just wrapping things up as nicely as I can.

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>>49750163
>filename
>not "the spic must flow"
heresy!

>>49732089
Quill here, before I rack my brain for more plot for Fairy Problems I wanted to know if anyone had any commentary on my writing style. Rifled through some of my old projects and noticed I'm really clipped/brief with my sentences.

Is that a bad thing?

>>49759109
I don't think there's anything wrong with you're writing. Maybe you could be a little less brief, but it's better to be too terse than too flowery

>>49750962
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yWuQY_sxdSw

12. The charging Aygawan Dog-people yelled some chant battle chant that may have sounded like gibberish to anyone who doesn’t understand their language, but was clearly meant to intimidate the current aggressors; Garryn and Carlin.

Carlin charged a chain-lightning spell at the large pack of Aygawans charging at them because of how close they were to each other, which was a very effective move as the charging warriors all fell like flies as soon as the electric arc hit one of them and spread to one another.

“Nice shot sis! But I bet there’s more of ‘em inside!”

Garryn charged to the garrison’s gates, some Aygawan archers rose from behind the walls of the garrison while some stuck out of other platforms. Garryn noticed them and knew they’d have ranged units, only for him to swiftly aim his personal weapon at them and took shot at the archers, hitting his mark all of which was all the result of his training from his mother.

Carlin followed her brother’s assault as she shot magic bolts at other oncoming Aygawan archers; she reached the gate and main battlements of the garrison and was greeted by the sight of her brother engaged in melee with numerous Aygawan warriors. They plentiful but Garryn was more skilled with his blade as he dodged every swing from the attacking warriors and thrusted and swung his katana-like sword to his enemies’ weakspots and exposed fleshy areas, killing them, he especially did not hesitate using his personal gun on any of them as once he was done dealing with the group of warriors with his sword, he simply gunned down another group charging his position and deftly reloaded his gun.

Ofcourse Carlin also helped out as she casted magic missiles to anymore oncoming warriors who’d overwhelm her brother and also to those pesky archers.

>>49764963
>music from previous still plays >>49764963

13. “HAHA! Guess I really do have more of mom’s blood in me, something about fighting like this just feels; euphoric!” Garryn said as slashed at an attacker with his blade and shot another one with his gun.

“Do you always treat fights like this one like any other scene in any of those films you star yourself in brother?” Carlin added as she casted a shock spell at another warrior charging at her and did a leg sweep at another coming from behind her and applied another shock spell at said attacker. “Well I’ll say. It feels like quite awhile since I’ve been involved in fight like this.”

“‘Feels like it’s been awhile?’ What about that other botched up meeting with those Dwermarions just as month ago?” Garryn said as he shot at three enemy archers and was in combat with one warrior.

“You mean the ones you pissed off when you thought it was a brilliant idea to play a prank on them by giving an alcoholic beverage to one of them who was allergic to it?” Carlin interjected while electrocuting an attacking Aygawan and shooting another magic missile at more enemy archers.

“Hey! Those uptight oligarchic snobs were not only talking shit about the Cosmic Fed, they were constantly verbally abusing you with such oh-so-subtlety. Even though you have dad’s calm demeanor and charisma, I Couldn’t stand the sight of jackasses like those talking smack about my sis like that now would I? Just like these savage dog-people who wanted us dead in the first place. Just being a bro ya know?”

“For a typical A-Lister Celebrity who revels and likes being smug infront of the camera, starring in some cheesy flicks and bedding interviewers and hostesses when given the opportunity. You are still a good bro atleast.”

“I sure am.”

Time for a story in WHFB with my OC donut steel character lads.
Prepare your anguses.

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>>49766597

>>49765093
14. Then they both finished as they cleared out what was left of the remaining Aygawans in this garrison, Carlin balled her hands as she charged a large thunder spell and casted it upon the last remaining large pack of warriors that fried them to a crisp. And Garryn smugly walked to one last warrior who defiantly charged at him and just did simple slash at the remaining warrior and then the garrison was clear.

Garryn sheathed his sword and placed his personal gun back to its holster hidden inside his white suit jacket as Carlin charged down her powers and her hands stopped glowing. Garryn walked to beside to his half elven sister as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

“You and I make a pretty kickass team. Again, not the first time, you know? That botched meeting with those Dwermarions, and well; THIS… Wouldn’t be surprised if mom tells us we can now ‘walk the path of the warrior.’”

Carlin replied with a soft laugh as she slinked her arm around her half elf brother’s shoulders. “Naaah, YOU best ‘walk the path of the warrior’, instead of staring yourself in the next cheesy action flick. While I stick with my diplomatic career.”

“Why? Cushy bureaucratic workplace much?”

This earned Garryn a playful punch from his sister with some soft hearted chuckles from his sister. “Okay, maybe not military-combat stuff. But with your skills, you could be the next major and or supporting character to the next action-adventure film I may be starring in. Or maybe a more comedic and or drama oriented film since you can be quite the dramatic type.”

Again, more playful chuckles and non-harmful punchies from his sister.

“Alright sis I think its best we contact HQ and tell ‘em we better be expecting some conflict with these mutts.”

“Oh yeah, mom and or dad would likely have to know.”

Carlin and Garryn let go of each other then as Carlin reached for a communications device in her authoritative robes.

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>>49766597
>prepare your anguses

this should not be taken as a story prompt

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Here I present for your reading pleasure *coughscorncough*:

Ancient Morpheus Goes Shopping

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


As I know many of you degenerates won't visit a google doc if your mothers life depended on it I suppose I'll have to post at least some of it in board in greentext. (never let it be said I don't suffer for my art.)

EDIT: huh, it looks like people aren't using greentext for story text, is that not a thing anymore?
>Spak Prime was an Imperial world much like any other, full of supermarkets much like any other, with parking-lots much like any other; however in this parking lot, in front of this Samus’s Club, on this Imperial world, all was not well; in this parking-lot there was heresy afoot. A transport was quadruple-parked across every one of the Samus’s Club’s handicapped spaces. As if this blasphemy against the Holy Imperium of Man’s Sacred Parking Regulations did not by itself profane the Emperor’s valiant sacrifice this transport, this veritable chariot of unholy damnation, was not even displaying a handicapped sticker.

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>>49772062
(how obvious is it that)

A: I do not have the hands of a physician.
B: I was raised to believe that thinning your paints is a sign of weakness and that no real man could ever bear the same of doing something so perverse and degenerate.
C: I can't quite tell how the color scheme that looks so snappy and cool on my power armored marines and tanks can be applied to my murder sarcophagai.

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>>49772062
>As a meter-maiden of the Adeptus Arbites approached the offending vehicle, more to ascertain how the driver could have managed to quadruple-park such a small vehicle than to post a citation, an obviously synthesized stentorian yell burst over her vox so suddenly the meter-maiden yelped and accidentally flung her citation pad and pen across the parking lot.

> “YOU HAVE DONE WELL THIS DAY, ARBITE! THE EMPEROR KNOWS AND LOVES ALL WHO CRUSADE IN HIS NAME; YOU SHALL NOT FACE THIS FOE ALONE! FALL BACK AND WITNESS THE FURY OF THE EMPEROR’S CHOSEN; SALVATION IS AT HAND!”

>The meter-maiden stumbled back from the quadruple-parked handicap-zone violator frantically looking around for the source of the vox transmission. As the half-crazed mechanical voice over the vox began some sort of chant, it was joined by a kind of roar; she swore she could almost feel it in her gut.

>“MY ARMOR IS CONTEMPT! MY SHIELD IS DISGUST! MY SWORD IS HATRED! IN THE EMPERORS`S NAME, LET NONE SURVIVE!!!”

>A second after the roar turned into a shriek the meter-maiden could feel in her molars, earth and molten blacktop exploded from the handicapped spaces as a drop pod slammed into the offending transport like the Fist of Dorn writ-large. The pod’s ramps exploded open and a single massive armored form charged out from the specialized drop pod, rapidly panning its sensors in every direction, alert for the possibility of the vehicle’s unaccounted-for, and highly treasonous, operator. Determining that there were no immediate threats in the area, Ancient Morpheus of the [Redacted by order of the Inquisition] Chapter focused his primary optical sensor on his landing site where a single corner of the ground transport’s bumper could be seen poking out from the crater his arrival created.

>“HA! WHO NEEDS THE LEGION OF THE DAMNED? THAT PHASING IN AND OUT SHIT IS FOR PUSSIES WHO CAN’T STOMACH A DROP LIKE REAL MEN!”

>>49772062
>>49772295

>Ancient Morpheus swiveled his boxy armored frame back around and found the meter-maiden sprawled on the ground twenty yards away, she looked up at him blinking rapidly and obviously concussed. Not some contemptible commissar or inquisitor content to treat other servants of the Emperor as disposable lasgun platforms, Ancient Morpheus stomped over to the arbite, carefully bent foreword, and extended a single flange or “finger” of his close combat weapon to his fallen comrade-in-arms.

>“RISE NOBLE WARRIOR. THOUGH THIS ENEMY OF THE EMPEROR IS SUNDERED, OUR TASK REMAINS UNFINISHED, AS OTHER FILTH YET DRAW BREATH!”

>The dazed maiden took the outstretched flange and Morpheus graciously assisted her to her feet. Ancient Morpheus failed to notice his gentlemanly assistance also removed the woman’s arm from its socket (as well as achieving several other skeleto-muscular maneuvers her doctors would be able to publish a number of papers on). The meter-maiden opted not to say anything as the senile death-machine had seemed quite gallant, even cute in a bumbling, grand-parent-y, almost-dismembering-her kind of way.


Hopefully you're all panting for more tales of Brother Morphaeus's galant service to the emperor and will now look at the google doc and shower me with feedback and stories of how my writing taught you to love again etc

>>49772062
>EDIT: huh, it looks like people aren't using greentext for story text, is that not a thing anymore?
greentext is for quotes. I.e, if 'story' means 'this funny thing that happened to me', use greentext. If 'story' means 'prose work of fiction', people usually use regular text.

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>>49772399
but greentext is just so easy to read!

-seriously have I just not understood the conventions this whole time? Why set apart dialogue only? IMO greentext should be used for non-story-text remarks, introductions, or comments etc when a post contains said story text. (Also I think my inability to use italics is foulest fucking heresy, just the kind of thing that made the Big E decide he had a moral obligation to launch his crusade in the first place

-also has someone done a lot of work on the wiki page in the last year or so, I don't remember anything like this (though my memory is frequently wrong as all hell)

>>49772593
Eh, greentext was originally the equivalent of the /quote tag on other forums, the only reason it became favored for storytelling around here was because it was how people labeled OOC observations in retelling stories. Use it however you want, it's just a way to distinguish one type of text from another. The only time I bother using it in these threads is for back-and-forth discussions or quotes. While I don't really approve of the formation of the /qst/ board, I do envy them their italics and other text effects.

All the wiki page stuff was done by Chronicler, who is the one who makes these threads, and presumably does the lion's share of bumping them. Nice fellow.

The page itself is starting to bog down a little though. The wiki's image code is less than optimal, and in adittion to occasionally having trouble displaying the full sized images or their thumbs, I think it might be screwing something up when it loads the thumbs onto the main page. I think I'll spend some time this next spring brushing up on wiki backend code and see if I can't lend a hand to whoever is running the thing, it'd be an immense shame if something ever happened to the place.

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>>49683114

>>49772593
>-also has someone done a lot of work on the wiki page in the last year or so, I don't remember anything like this (though my memory is frequently wrong as all hell)
Back before 2015 these threads only happened once every few weeks, according to whatever random anons felt like starting one. Then, I think sometime around the beginning of March 2015, I came across another one, wrote a story or two, and thought to myself: hey this is kinda fun, it should be a regular thing.

I'd decided some time earlier, in the occasional threads that happened every now and then, that it was a shame that so much work 404'd and was just lost to the electronic ether. If you look at story no.2 - Kitten Skin - you'll see that it's dated early 2014, as are a few other of the earlier stories on the wiki. This was when I took the name Chronicler.

So naturally, when I started making Storythreads a regular thing in march 2015, I saved all the stories written for them. At first I wasn't sure what I was going to do with them - I thought maybe I'd repost them in the threads as bumps. But it quickly became apparent that a wiki page was the only sensible option if anyone was ever going to read them, so a month or two after I'd started I created the wiki page on 1d4chan.

Anyway, the reason the wiki page has grown in the last year is because I upload every story posted in a Storythread, as I have done since I started creating them in March 2015, and we've had a thread every fortnight since (in fact, every week before the start of 2016).

>having trouble displaying the full sized images or their thumbs
the only problem I've found with the wiki is that it won't display the thumbnails if an image is over a certain size. I used to deal with this by splitting stories into separate images, but recently I decided that it would be easier just to put links in the description under the thumnail, which has exactly the same effect as clicking on the thumbnail anyway.

>>49772907
>>49774163
>The page itself is starting to bog down a little though.
It is becoming a little unwieldy as it gets larger, particularly the purely 'post-a-picture-write-a-story' stories, but unfortunately I don't see much of a solution without totally re-doing the organisational system. I've been thinking about creating a 'best of' list at the top of the page to give newcomers an easier time, but then again I've always tried to be as impartial as possible and not make judgements on the quality of a story.

>and presumably does the lion's share of bumping them
actually in the last couple of months it's been possible for me to go away and do stuff without the thread 404ing, which is nice. Previously it was only my insomnia than kept the thread around for more than a day. That said, I do always keep an eye on it if I can, and I still do provide most of the bumps.

>Nice fellow.
why thank you.

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>>49774163
You sir are a hero among men and an aptly named one at that. Anyone who decides to keep peoples writings from disappearing will forever have a place in my heart.

Any recent stories of particular note? Any new LCBs or Love and Kriegs inspiring Daaaaw and RAGE among the ranks of the most noble order of the fa/tg/uy?

Also how might a hypothetical chaner inveigle, trick, or con someone into making a wiki page for his dreadnought story? In this, strictly hypothetical scenario the intrepid writer took a long look at the arcane writes of the wikitext and other requisite skills beyond the ken o decent folk and and recoiled in fear and lazitude as he did not want to shit up a pretty decent 1d4chan or 1d4chan-like site and it looked like it would take up valuable time that could instead be filled with writers block and fapping.

What I need are a bunch of drawfags to start up regular post-a-story-draw-a-picture thread. I rarely need inspiration to start stories but I draw about as well as matt ward avoids debasing and molesting my beloved 40k fluff.

I had a handle I used for posting things like and now I can't remember what I was using which is just so aggravating

>>49774697
I think thats the name I was using, maybe

>>49773904
If that's not a beholder maiden bestowing her favor upon a knight who has won her regard than I don't know what else it can be.

>>49774697
It's actually incredibly easy to create a wiki page, but that aside if you post your story in this thread (preferably not as greentext) then it will get capped and uploaded to the wiki along with everything else. Granted, the 2000 character limit is a bitch, but it should only take about 10 posts which is hardly excessive.

>Any recent stories of particular note?
as I said, I prefer to remain impartial, so you tell me. I'm interested to know if there are any stories that catch your eye.

>>49775045
Chroni, when you update storythread wiki page? I have'nt been around the previous storythread. Wana see the previous stories from last week.

>>49776848
>Pillarmen Legionnaires
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XUhVCoTsBaM

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>>49774265
>going away without the thread 404
I've tried to help bump, along with an uncountable number of anons, during my night shifts. It really is a nice way to spend my breaks.

and I started bumping because I really wanted these pictures for background uses
https://www.dropbox.com/sh/86qhczr6vfsboe1/AAB2b02xgltlxrWqUaYgyKWGa?dl=0

>Wrote something new, need to shave off ~100 words to submit it to Bard. What do you guys think?

There is nothing more sad, nor more terrifying than a dwarf singing alone. Fifty of them came to Riversbrook, mumbling their marching chant with trudging feet and downcast eyes. Their shoulders drooped with the weight of their sloped shields and their short spears but not a one was laden with food nor water. Had fifty men marched into my inn, I would have been grabbing for my sword; but, the dwarves marched in slowly and formed a queue. Each asked for room and food for the night and each paid with small copper coins.

The last of the troupe waited before coming to me. Every room had been filled twice over and the stables too, but he insisted he needed no room but a seat near the fire. Then he asked if I would return the coppers in exchange for gold, pulling out a small pouch he kept within his breastplate. The coins he gave me were stamped with the regal face of Lord Hodrick of Ainz, the clan seven days’ ride to the east. I did not ask what had brought them so far. There’s an old saying in Riversbrook, “Dwarves looking for trouble make sure trouble knows they’re coming.”

Ricktor of Deepshaft, as I learned his name to be, stayed in the common room feeding kindling to the hearth. With hands thick and calloused from years swinging picks, he worked a small piece of wood over and over again with his knife. He sang as he worked, a quiet melody that spoke of a father watching over a child. When I had to retire, it had only just taken the rough shape of a bird in flight, and it was clear that Ricktor would work on it through the rest of the night. It was the secret to dwarvish craft he said.

1/3

>>49782278
Pounding, impatient hooves woke me from my slumber and that time I did grab for my sword. I was bidding my wife stay hidden when I saw Ricktor marching out of the inn to meet with the horsemen. There were over a hundred cavalry with more filtering through the buildings of Riversbrook like sand in a sieve. The man leading the cavalry, a nobleman covered in a garish motley of plumes decorations, called out for the dwarves of Ainz. I could see he was holding something under his arm but did not know what it was until it was tossed high in the air to fall on the ground at Ricktor’s feet. It was a head.

The nobleman made vain and self-aggrandizing demands as his men grinned and gripped their weapons. Ricktor did not listen, the dwarf fell to his knees and picked up the head with both hands. He looked up and silenced the noble with nothing but his gaze. Then he began to sing again. It was a slow chant without the enthusiasm of a miner who found gold, without the mind numbing monotony of a forced march. It had all the peacefulness of the lullaby I had heard him sing the night before.

The other dwarves joined him, their voices joining together like the swell of waves. One by one the marched out into the road, wearing their armor and shields and with hands tight on their spears. They joined shoulder to shoulder, gathering around Ricktor to face the horsemen. Their eyes moved up from the head, to the man who had brought it. The noble stiffened, his back straightening, and he raised a hand in the air. Before he could lower it, all fifty dwarves raised their shields as one. The volley of arrows found nothing but metal or dirt.

2/3

>>49782287
They marched forward, not even a hair’s breadth between their lines, and on they sung. They sang for justice and for honor, and for mountain and king. Their spear rose up like bristling needles as they advanced. The cavalry drew swords and charged before the gap could be closed. I watched small wings of horsemen sweep out to either side, seeking out the edges only to find dwarven shields. They crashed together, bodies on steel, and horses neighed wildly. Swords and spears flashed, men toppled, but the shield line broke. No dwarf was pushed back, but the massive warhorses of the Alheeri plains trampled them into the ground.

Still, they sang. They sang for glory and for valor, they sang for family and home. They circled together in small pods, moving in unison to the beat of their war chant. The cavalry flailed like addled children. Their swords were long and glinted in the light like heroes of old, but from the height of their horses could do nothing against the thick dwarven helms. For every dwarf trampled, two men were cut down. The dirt turned to mud as it was churned in blood under hoof and boot.

3/4 (paragraph breaks screwed me up

>>49782292
Still, they sang. They sang for life and love, they sang for a people lost. The song had grown quiet, not because they had lost heart but because there were so few dwarves left. The archers loosed freely, their oaken shafts ripping through the lamellar. It was the most gruesome battle I had ever seen, no side ever gaining an advantage, no side ever breaking. The dwarves fell as quickly as the men, each dying with the taste of near victory in their mouths. The noble had led the charge, but had been certain to free himself of the melee. He called out for a retreat that he called victory, and the archers fled.

Still, he sang alone. He sang for brother and clan, he sang for a people lost. A dozen dwarves stood beside him with shields raised and spears pointed. But each of them bled from arrow and sword. Ricktor’s chant was all that kept them on their feet, all that kept them in the land of the living. He did not let the nobleman escape. His spear soared through the sky, striking down like an eagle on the man’s back. And then the dwarves fell.

Still, he sang alone.

4/4

>>49782299
You might want to work on a few minor, nitpicky things.

>their spear rose
Singular spear?
Try instead: their spears rose, needles bristling
Later, same paragraph
>men toppled, but the shield line broke. No dwarf was pushed back
Do you mean to say that the line did indeed break, but held together in pockets? You mention them surviving in small groups later.
Consider: men toppled, and the shields changed formation. No dwarf gave ground...

Since you're trying to cut words out, try removing superfluous use of "of the"
>warhorses of the Alheeri plains
Alheeri plains warhorses
And other such trivialities.

Lastly, you use simile a shitload, commas are everywhere (restructure the sentence when you notice it happening often because it also helps cut down word use), repetitive use of prepositions that dont need to be there, and curious (but colorful) tidbits all eat up space.

With that I need sleep

>>49784659
noted

This was a first draft, I'll prune out the minor grammatical things with an editing pass. Borderline experimental with simile because I don't use them often and need to find the correct feel for how to use them.

As for the shield wall, I was trying to describe that the dwarves didn't give back, the horses simply trampled straight over them. (big horse, small dwarf). It's tricky to describe.

Sounds like you liked it though.

>>49767446
15. “Attention base command, this is Diplomat Carlin Richardson with an update with the diplomatic relations between us and the Aygawan Natives.”

A somewhat gruff voice responded. “Aye we read ya Ms Richardson; this is Captain Grobrek Norgen, status report?”

“Yeah, we won’t be having any peace with these natives anytime sooner. They attacked me and my associate, but we’re both fine. We actually eliminated all the now hostile Aygawans in the garrison I just meet up with an elder of theirs.”

“Wot!? Yar jokin’ lassy. An entire garrison of those mangy mutts, likely about thirty to forty of those dogs in there and ya both just killed ‘em all!?”

“Yes we have Captain Norgen. Now please send in some reinforcements to hopefully secure this location and turn it into another station for us to utilize? Or atleast send us a proper escort to accompany us? I’ve got a feeling these dogs would converge to this location.”

“Actually I gots good news. Reinforcements have arrived, as in proper armed forces to help us out. Two battalions with armor and air support to help put a firm hold in colonizing this planet for them sweet minerals. I’ll relay your location and send in a detachment to secure that garrison. Captain Norgen, out.”

Garryn and Carlin waited inside the vehicle they used to get in there till finally they saw friendlies coming in. A large armed and armored dropship containing troops just landed unloading two entire squads of soldiers who quickly moved in to secure the garrison. The soldiers were the short, yet sturdy and tough Dwarves; whom were also members of the Cosmic Confederation. And their captain; Grobrek Norgen, who also spoke with Carlin earlier, approached Garryn and Carlin.

>>49784161

>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SlVtv5DFoiY

Maya stepped out into the rain, slamming the door. The sounds of the argument still found their way, muffled, through the door. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. She moved down the stoop and onto the sidewalk. She looked up at the sky, into the drops battering against her face. Maya let the water run down her a moment, then opened her umbrella.

She turned on the sidewalk, and headed south to her spot. No one else was out. She liked that. She liked this weather. Too dark for day, too bright for night. She thought of putting in her earbuds, but decided against it. She let the white noise of the rain wash over her.

A half mile away, a dirt path branched from the sidewalk. Maya turned onto the path, letting her feet squish through the shallow mud and dead leaves. The she wound through the familiar path through the trees. No birds were singing. Some of the trees were just starting to turn colors. Maya continued down the path, then turned off it. Navigating the roots and the divots in the dirt, she came to a large hole in a chain link fence. Here the trees cleared. She folded her umbrella and crouched through it. Opening the umbrella again, she made her way towards the old buildings ahead.

Finally she came to her spot. A small canal ran through the compound, and near it a small stone wall perfect for sitting. Maya took her usual seat, and watched the water rushing down the canal. She didn’t know what the canal was for, but it looked pretty. Once she’d walked down it all the way, where it emptied into a small creek.

>>49789299
Maya closed her eyes, listening to the rain and the flowing water below her. She stuck her hand in her jacket pocket and pulled out what she wanted. Leaning her umbrella against her shoulder, Maya pulled out a cigarette, and stuffed the pack back in her pocket. Then she fished for her lighter. She stuck the cigarette in her lips, and held the lighter against it. She flicked it a few times before finally getting a light. She took a long drag and looked around.

There was a woman standing nearby.

Maya furrowed her brow. Half a year coming here and she’d never seen another soul. The woman just stood there, ignoring her. She was tall, wearing a long, grey overcoat. She had no hood or umbrella. In the rain, her long hair clung against her head and neck. She was soaked.

Maya shrugged and went back to her smoke. The woman didn’t seem to care she was there, and she was inclined to return the favor. She didn’t come here looking for a new friend.

“Mind if I have one of those?” a voice stirred Maya out of her thoughts. She looked up. The woman was standing right over her. She was a lot taller than she looked.

“Uh, go ahead,” Maya said. She took out another cigarette and her lighter. She handed them both to the woman. The woman took them. She lit the cigarette with one flick. The rain didn’t seem to land on it.

“Thank you,” the woman said. She handed the lighter back. Her voice was light, floaty.

“You’re welcome,” Maya grumbled. She scooted to the side a little. She looked away, taking another drag on her own cigarette. She sat in silence, but the woman still stood there. Maya wished she’d go away.

>>49789313
“So how’s your day, Maya?” the woman said.

Maya almost spat the cigarette out. “Uh, what?”

“Yes, I know who you are, Maya,” the woman said. “No, we haven’t met. At least not officially.” The woman smirked. Her cigarette still burned.

“I’m uh, I’m gonna go,” Maya said. She flicked her cigarette away and stood up. She felt the woman’s hand on her shoulder.

“Please don’t, I’d like to talk” the woman said. Maya stopped. Something about the woman’s touch felt…strange. Peaceful. She didn’t feel afraid.

“Fine,” Maya said. “Fine I’ll talk. What do you want? Who are you?”

“I’m the one who’s supposed to send you on your adventure, Maya,” the woman said.

“Adventure,” Maya repeated. What the hell?

“That’s right,” the woman said. “Someone’s caught an interest in you. Thinks they can help you.”

“Help me with what?” Maya said. “And who’s they?”

“I don’t know,” the woman said. “I’m just here to start you down the right path. Don’t you want to go on an adventure?”

“Not really,” Maya said. She was about to turn again.

“You’re sad, Maya,” the woman said.

“Excuse me?” Maya asked.

“You’re sad. That’s why they want you,” the woman said.

“Who the hell is ‘they’?” Maya asked.

“I told you I don’t know,” the woman said. Maya rolled her eyes. “I just knew I was supposed to find you. To tell you you’re about to start your adventure.”

“But I don’t want—“
“I know,” the woman said. “Honestly I’d like you to go on your adventure. You seem like a nice person. I’d love to be your friend.” The woman’s cigarette still smoldered.

>>49789327
“Uh, thanks?” Maya said. She turned again, trying to leave.

“Maya,” the woman said. “On your way home, you’re going to find a cat. A very peculiar cat. He’ll take you where you need to go. I hope to see you soon. I hope you get what you’re looking for.”

“What does that mean?” Maya turned back to the woman. But she was gone. Maya sighed. She looked around. It was getting dark. She walked back to the hole in the fence, through the trees, and back to the path.

Right where the path met the sidewalk, she saw the cat.

It was a large cat. It was a deep black, and its eyes were huge. So huge. Maya was alarmed. It stopped, and looked at her. It was grinning. A large, toothy grin. It reminded Maya of that old story, with the hat guy and the tea party. She froze, and stared at the cat. It stared right back at her.

Finally, it turned, and started down the sidewalk. Away from home. Maya crept up to where it was. She looked, and saw it ambling away. She turned behind her, and looked at the direction of home. She bit her lip.

Maya closed her eyes, turned, and followed the cat.

>>49789343
"Fuck, sorry for pissing on you, cat" said Maya, but alas, the cat died of piss exposure

>>49789343

She followed it, keeping the same distance behind it. It didn’t look back at her. Just kept going. After about a mile, the sky had darkened, and the street lights were on. Maya still followed the cat.

Finally, they came to an old building. She recognized it. The old train station, long abandoned. The train stopped coming through here years ago, when she was just a little girl. The cat squeezed through a hole in the chain link fence. Maya tried the door. Padlocked shut. She sighed, and looked around. Finally, she walked out aways from the station, where chain link separated her from the old tracks. She folded her umbrella, tossed it up over the fence, and climbed. She dropped on the other side, and picked her umbrella back up. It was covered in mud.

Looking both ways, Maya stepped onto the tracks. She stood there in the rain, letting it wash over her. Then she started back towards the station. She reached it, and climbed up onto the platform. The cat was waiting for her.

She stood there, in silence. The rain pattered against the roof overhead. Graffiti and cracks decorated the walls. Garbage and animal nests littered the floor. The place smelled of mildew.

“Well,” Maya said. “I’m here.” She looked at the cat. It looked back up at her. It still grinned. “So what’s gonna happen now?” The cat didn’t answer. Maya paced around.

>>49789376
“What am I doing here?” she asked. “It’s dark. I need to get home. I’m totally in for it when I get back. All cause of you.” She shot the cat a dirty look. It still grinned. Then it turned its head. She followed its gaze, to an old bench. The cat nodded.

“Fine,” she said. “Ten minutes. Then I’m gone.” She walked over to the bench. It creaked underneath her. She pulled out another cigarette. She lit, and closed her eyes. Nothing happened.

The cigarette burned down to the butt. She opened her eyes to flick it away. A thick fog crept onto the platform. Maya scowled. She couldn’t see the tracks or the fence on the other side. Even the rain had stopped. There was just the fog. And the cat, sitting at the edge of the platform and staring into the fog.

And then she heard the train whistle.

Maya jumped when she heard it. The fog started to thin. When it burned away, sitting on the tracks was a large, old-fashioned passenger train. It whistled again. Maya’s heart thumped loudly in her ears.

Right where the cat sat, doors into one of the cars opened. The cat still stood there, looking back at her. Maya crept forward slowly. The cat grinned. She peaked into the car. It was clean and well-furnished. But empty.

Maya sighed and looked down at the cat. It nodded at her. She looked ahead again, and stepped into the car. The cat followed her, and the doors closed.

>>49789370
Thank you for you contribute to the story. I'll be sure to revise future drafts to include this stroke of narrative brilliance.

>>49785025
Took a nap.

Fuck yes I did. Go over it again, see where you can prune some shit.

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>>49683114
Imma tell you the story of how a milk run turned into a double homicide chummer. (Shadowrun 4e)

The party
- Greyhawk: a grouchy egotistical skinny-fat baby faced 20 something with dyed grey hair and a trench coat. Technomancer pretending to be a hacker and trying to figure out his life.

- Rama: physical adept who has to struggle to control his mouth and dresses like he stepped out of some ninja action manga. Part Indian (subcontinent) and part Japanese. Wears a respirator to deal with his crippling pollution allergies and conseals it with a dramatic scarf.

Brick: A massively built seven foot tall Ork in medium grey sweatpants and t-shirt with an armored jacket and red knit cap. Former gang member. Wheelman and knuckle cruncher.

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>>49794491
"The team" all new to Denver and to eachother, we're eating dinner at Panzerwaffle after their first successful job together had netted each a 4000 Nuyen payday.

Brick checked out fliers on the resteraunt's bulletin board because he and Rama were poorfucks and wanted to make a little more scratch before bed.

The only thing that fit the bill was a missing cat poster made by a little girl some runner had posted up a copy of.

Tiger was an Orange and Black Maine Coon. The poster listed a last known spotting and a place to deliver the cat if found. Most importantly it promised a reward of a few hundred Nuyen!

Greyhawk bitched about it being a waste of his time but came along when that failed to dissuade his two new teammates.

After returning the Johnson's unmarked grey van and reaching Brick's camper truck which had finally been released from Denver's customs impound. Greyhawk proceeded to shut down, retrieve and re-program the 5 tracking bugs Lonestar had planted before releasing it. With the party now set up with it's own wheels they headed out to Tiger's last spotted location.

>>49794618
At brick's suggestion, Greyhawk repurposed one of the tracking bugs into a higher performance pet tracker that could be mounted on Tiger's collar and linked to the owner's comlink once we retrieved and returned the cat, in hopes of getting a bonus.

At the same time he did some digging figured out that the neighborhood the group was heading toward was the home turf of a bunch of go-gangers. Forewarned, they parked the truck deep in an alley to keep it out of sight.

Rama set out to start looking for clues, Greyhawk stayed in the camper to canvas the matrix, Brick walked up the street and spent 5 Nuyen on a sack of cat food with the idea of setting some out to try to lure their target.

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>>49794701

Rama found some traces of cat fur of the right length and color when Greyhawk called in having spotted a what seemed like a cat roughly of the right dimensions and pattern on the roof of a nearby two story boarding house on a low-fi security camera feed.

While Brick started crossing the street heading for the building's fire escape, Rama proceeded to ninja up to the roof in two leaps.

As soon as he landed there was good news and bad news.

The Good news was, he'd found Tiger. The bad news was he'd spooked Tiger bad enough for the cat to leap at his face.

>>49794778
I'll finish the story later today if there is interest.

>>49794786
Okay. Some notes:
>more words per post (you're nowhere near the character limit son!)
>give the narrative framing more prominence

>>49794821
>>give the narrative framing more prominence

Please explain what this means. What is narrative framing?

>>49794891
You're in a thread dedicated to writing fiction. Your posts read like dot points, greentext without the green. You don't seem to be practicing many elements of fiction writing at all. Frame the story as if it were a fictional narrative, and less like a checklist of things that happened.

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>>49794907

Sorry I thought this was a thread for relaying anectdotes from games we have played, not one primarily meant for serious and in depth writing exercises. The former is what I usually think of when I think of "story time" in the context of /tg/.

I'm not interested in writing a propper short story at this time. Is there a presently extant thread escaping my notice that I should have posted this on instead?

>>49794967
Ah that makes sense. If you can't find one you can always make one!

>>49789419
To Salty Writefag, the author of Mixed Party.

May you also have something with this image: >>49687972

>>49785188
16. “Well dat explains why only two persons were able to clear an entire garrison all by themselves loike dat. Wasn’t expecting you guardin’ your sister again Mr. Garryn Aemaris. Ya know? You two make quite the two-man-army.” The Dwarven Captain, Grobrek Norgen said as he begun assessing the outcome of the battle.

“So where’s my mother?” Carlin asked

“Oh she should be arriving right about-”

Just then a smaller dropship came down and landed next to the other larger one carrying personnel. Its side door opened and Zentha Aemaris walked out.

“Mom!” Both Carlin and Garryn exclaimed.

“Well I see the diplomatic mission for these natives didn’t go well as planned… Garryn, didn’t I tell you to change to proper combat attire? Why are you still wearing you’re typical clothes? Now they’re covered in blood, also you two look like a mess.”

Both Garryn and Carlin didn’t notice and only now did they realize as their mother pointed out their clothes are actually stained in the blood of those Aygawans they fought and killed.

“Garryn you should really take things like this seriously.”

“Relax ma, this is the blood of our enemies, not ours. And besides those guys were such bad fighters with their wide open swings. Me and sis just dodged those guys attacks.”

“And what IF you get hit? Proper combat attire and body armor exists for a reason. Any situation like this isn’t like your typical movie set where you could tell the director to cut because you got copious amounts of fluid drenched in you. And besides, we were supposed to have that picture taken later. I just hope you have plenty more spare clothes while you’re travelling with us for now.”

Carlin then chimed in. “Look mom, I’m sorry things didn’t go out as planned. I did my best to have peaceful conversations with these natives, but they just would’nt accept peace… We just had to do what had to be done when they attacked us.”

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medieval-ish bump

>>49795444
17. “It’s fine, you two at the very least did well for this job. And you Garryn proved to not be a slob and have put the training I gave you to good use, just like that time your sister failed that treaty with those Dwermarions and in this mission aswell.” Zentha then looked back to Captain Norgen “… Also Captain Norgen, please don’t tell high command that I told my son Garryn; a civilian, and risking said civilian’s life, to accompany Carlin in a mission like this, I sent Garryn since a majority of the very few armed forces earlier were not available and that my son was the only highly trained and skilled person for the job at the time.”

“Sure thing Zentha, anythin’ for ya. Especially after kickin’ arse when takin’ that Serryshian Battleship a couple of years back!” Captain Grobrek Norgen replied with slight zeal.

“Duly noted… Colonel.” Garryn jokingly added with a sly grin to his mother.

“Very funny young ma, now come on. Let’s get back to base and you two better change aswell, your father is waiting and the camera man who’ll take our very much long awaited family portrait should be there too.”

“Mom, you actually finally found a professional photographer? Finally, also I should really take a shower too.” Carlin said as she also smelled herself a bit to fully acknowledge to herself how much she stank aswell.

“Well Zentha, you and yer kids head back to the main outpost. More manpower will be arrivin’ in this planet soon, then we can finally do what Dwarves do best; begin mining operations for all them sweet minerals under this rock. I’ll just give these men some instructions and orders to hold this former Aygawan garrison. I’ll be back to base in a while.”

With that Zentha, Garryn and Carlin all boarded the same dropship Zentha rode on back to base.

>>49795424

>tfw when the only feedback I ever get is a request for this.

I've sort of put that one on the back burner while I try to think of anything interesting I could do with it. The first Mixed Party was a fluke. I don't actually like that genre blend stuff all that much and I only wound up going for it because the original image was really cute. I made a sequel because I wanted to practice writing feels.

Right now, I can't really think of what to do for that pic which isn't basically more of the same. "Tough Sci Fi Guy and Cute Elf Girl Crush on Each Other". Maybe I'm just not as creative as I like to think. But I've found a lot of urban fantasy style stories just kind of read the same. I might still have something for that, but lately I've been drawing a blank.

>>49798455
Instead of them crushing on each other, just have them be total bros. Also, I liked your story, flowed well, and was interesting throughout, hope you continue it because I like where you're going with it.

>>49755723
Run

>>49795730
18. The ride back to the main outpost was much quicker compared to the land vehicle Carlin and Garryn rode earlier. The ship landed and as soon as Garryn, Zentha and Carlin boarded off the dropship they saw Kyle Richardson, the father of this family.

“Dad!” Both Garryn and Carlin exclaimed as Kyle noticed them with Zentha.

“Kids! Nice to see you two. Carlin, I take it you were successful in pacifying the savage natives of this planet so mining operations can go smoothly?”

“Well I wish dad, but these natives just wouldn’t budge.”

Garryn then interjected. “But look at the bright side, sis here at least kicked some ass AND we both secured a heavily manned enemy garrison all by ourselves.”

“Yes Garryn, as I’ve heard, but look at you two. You both are a mess, and Garryn please learn to wear proper field attire and not your usual fashion clothes in operations such as this. You’re not playing as an action flick all the time, especially if you’re going to be travelling with us till you get to your planet destination.”

Zentha came to Kyle, gave him a hug and a short kiss. “So love have you finally found a professional photographer who also knows how to make a proper portrait for our much delayed family photo?”

“I sure have Zentha; she’s a reliable one at the very least. And she owes me a number of favors aswell.”

Just then a female human journalist rushed over to the family.

“Hi there! Jessica Winslow, you must be Colonel Zentha Aemaris. Wow it’s great to finally meet you in person. Your husband, Colonel Richardson, said I’m to do a family portrait for you all. Well you found the right woman; I’ve taken photography classes too.”

Zentha looked at Kyle. “…A journalist? Seriously Kyle? You had to ask a journalist to take a picture for us? And I take it she’s gonna ask an interview with the two of us?”

>>49810880
19. “Mr. Garryn Aemaris. Your last film; ‘Alive on Arrival’, was a success. You must be really famous for being a celebrity and being the son of Colonel Aemaris too.”

“Why yes I’am beauti-”

“Garryn.” Carlin said and looked at Garryn with a serious expression.

“Relax sis.” He leaned to her ear. “I wasn’t planning boning her.”

“Alright, perhaps we can make use of Ms. Winslow. Head to me and Colonel Richardson’s quarters over there, we’ll be there shortly. And kids, bathe and get changed.”

With that said, Zentha and Kyle headed someplace else to get some of their duties done with some personnel and soldiers giving them obligatory salutes, Ms. Winslow headed to their quarters, Carlin and Garryn both had themselves cleaned up. And later on, both of them finally got themselves cleaned. Carlin wearing another clean set of her robes and Garryn wearing another clean pastel white suit.

“Well brother you finally look spick and span. And you smell real good too.”

“Yep Carlin, and it’s all thanks to Pixie Suds Soap; ‘Pixie Suds Soap, it’ll make even the slimiest alien squeaky clean with its soapy formula, made by the Pixies!’”

“H-WOW. Yeah I also forget, you also endorse yourself to such products… Maybe that’s why you’re so famous? Constant Product Endorsement.”

“Well sis, they just can’t help but ask a charming Half-Elf such as myself to help sell their shit.”

Finally they got to their parent’s quarters with both Kyle and Zentha and Ms. Winslow waiting.

“Kids, you finally arrived. Garryn, Carlin; you both sit down there. While I and your mother stand here, right behind you here.”

Kyle said as he placed his arm around his elven wife and both their children sat down infront of them. Garryn decided to pose with his personal gold plated sidearm.

“Alright, just steady and hold those expressions. Aaaaand smile.” Ms. Winslow said as she flashed her camera, taking the family photo.

Someone post me the "every day you don't write you lose to the twilight author" pic

He was an ordinary boy who became an ordinary man. He worked like all the other men, he drank like the other men, he went to church like the other men. Alan was not the man for whom sagas are written. Alan was not the man whom exciting things happened to. He would never fight a war, he would never master his own destiny. His existence was to simply get fatter, older and slower until he died. Alan would never even give this any thought, like so many people. Alan was not the man who women fell in love with. He was married at thirty two. The marriage was more a gradual accretion of need and dependency than anything else. Alan and his wife growing together in a similar manner to fossilization, though rather than sauropods struggling in tarpits and screaming at comet streaked skies before succumbing to the long dark night, this process was more to do with leaving the toilet door open and no longer even blaming that smell on the dog.

Alan's life was the very picture of mediocrity. So mediocre that anything challenging or interesting would shy away for fear of finding itself buying slippers in marks and Spencer and spending Sundays trying to remember when teabags were only fifty pence a box.

Things didn't happen to Alan. Things happened far away to other people.

Except that things do happen. Things happen to you.

>>49819837
The first reports of clowns seemed to be treated as jokes. Then as the year progressed other news reports were tutted over in the pub. Skeletons. Goblins. Magic. Demons. All safely happening somewhere with a funny name and to people that didn't look like Alan.

Four hundred killed in some sort of horrific summoning or incursion in Addis Ababa. Similar stories from Lebanon and even somewhere that ended in 'Stan which Alan had never heard of. There was talk of more refugees coming. That was Bad. That would mean Alan would have to form opinions and remember to have the right ones near the right people. "Fuck off we are full" in the pub and "diversity macht frei" or something at work.

Then it started happening in Europe. Places he had heard of. Demonic incursions in Paris. Possessed crazies roaming the streets in Dussledorf. Military response was fast and brutal, but

>>49819850
It Seemed Something Should be Done" people kept saying, carefully enunciation the capital letters.

Alan had no idea what that something might be, or who should do it.

A year passed. Alan never noticing his belly seemed to have grown another inch. His hairline a little more receding. Beer had gotten more expensive. So had petrol. Some things you couldn't get at the supermarket any more.

>>49819861
The things had names now. Silly names to try and make them less scary or abbreviations that would require looking them up to learn what they meant. CODA was the word everyone kept saying. Alan was pretty sure the D meant demon. He preferred the term his old mum had taken to using, Fuddledooms

>>49819882
. It sounded nice and made about as much sense. At least these new words you could say, other words you couldn't any more, it seemed so daft that even whispering something innocuous might bring those bloodthirsty beasts here. You had to be careful, especially of long words, not that Alan used many, but those were the worst. "It is A Good Thing the Government" (again pronouncing the capital letters) "were censoring emails and texts and things" said the people in the pub. France weren't taking part in the six nations this year. Too afraid of incursions.

>>49819884

Another year passed. Like every year since he was 15 Alan and his friends wanted to go to Ibiza. Ibiza ceased to exist a week beforehand. More demons apparently. Food was rationed now. Alan hadn't gotten any fatter. There had been an incursion in London. A lot of people died but "Our Brave Boys had flamethrowered the posessed" said the people in the pub and there had been some wonderful footage of the retaking of the Inns of Court, "Challenger tanks crushing clawed fiends under their Christian treads," is what the paper had called it.
Alan had noticed that people started saying things about God more. There were more people at church than the pub. The news people said some things they never would before, about our proud nation standing against the tides and other language like that. Beer got more expensive, enough that people started brewing their own.

Around Christmas Alan saw his first demon. Just a small one really. A winged toad. Flopping and hopping in the bird bath in the back garden. Alan nearly got it with a cricket bat before it hopped over the fence and under a passing car. By the time Alan had finished telling the story the second time in the pub, the creature had grown fangs, claws and scorpion tail. By the time he told the local paper, he had wrestled it and fought it for over ten minutes.

By January things were looking up. Apparently the French had managed to beat back a Demonic horde somewhere near Marsee. Maybe that was the end of it.

On February 12th the papers said that was the end of it. On the next day. There were no papers. It was part of Alan's Friday ritual, bacon sandwich and paper in the morning. There weren't any of either. The lady in the bakers was as confused as he was. The local radio was fine but at work they liked Radio 2. It was all static when Alan arrived (sandwich less and unhappy), as was the TV.

>cont tomorrow

>>49815090
20. After having the photo taken and previewing the picture, they all walked out of the quarters and back out of the grounds of the outpost. “That’s some nice photography Jessica.” Kyle said with an impressed tone. “When is the actual portrait going to be ready?”

“Just give me maybe a few days, I got some other work I gotta do for the Confederation Media too. Though I wish Mrs. Aemaris smiled more.”

“I smile just enough, besides my good looks are more visible when I’m stern.”

“See Zentha, I told you I just found the right person to do the job. And not just a journalist hoggin’ for an exclusive-” Just then Jessica interrupted.

“Uhehe… Yeah, about that-” Four other journalists suddenly came up to Kyle and Zentha.

“Hoi there, the name’s Rudra Jurggenson. Confederation Media.” A female Dwarf announced.

“Gorduin Erra, also from the Confederation Media, I’am with Rudra and Jessica Winslow too.” A male elf; also journalist, announced his presence with some enthusiasm. Then two more journalists, both humans, one who is just like Jessica Winslow from the Confederation’s Media Press and another human from the Earth Government.

“Hi, I’m Summer Wright, Confederation Press. I’m also with Jessica Winslow, Rudra Jurggenson and Gorduin Erra.”
“And I’m Vondell Wells, Earth Government Press actually. I was told by Miss Winslow I could get a chance to talk with the famed Kyle Richardson and Zentha Aemaris.” The last of the four journalists acknowledged.

“Kyle.” Zentha said bluntly as she looked slightly disappointed at her human husband. Kyle then just looked at Jessica and whispered to her.

“Jess, mind telling me as to why there are three of your fellow journalists and one from the Earthgov hounding us for a word right now?”

>>49822638
21. Jessica whispered back. “Sorry Kyle, one of my mates overheard me talking to you via holo-transmission and wanted to go with me to the very place you guys are in right now. Same for Vondell Wells, he overheard about me getting a personal audience with you guys while we were all in the Intergalactic Medias Guild HQ. But hey I managed to just keep it between me, my three colleagues and him. Look I’m sorry, just give us; including Mr. Wells, an interview, even a brief one and we’re all even.”

Vondell Wells piped in. “I heard that Miss Winslow. And she’s right; just give us, especially me, just a brief interview. Besides with the Earth Government and the Cosmic Confederation being in the process of unification, I’m sure the citizens of Earth and her territories and colonies would like to hear both of your thoughts Mr. Richardson and Mrs. Aemaris.

Before Kyle and Zentha could give off an answer, their kids then chimed in. Carlin entertained Summer Wright and Vondell Wells.

“Greetings, if you have not known me yet. I’m Carlin Richardson, daughter of Kyle Richardson and Zentha Aemaris. My parents are quite busy at the moment, but I’d be glad to entertain you both in the matter of politics, diplomacy and other matters involving the Cosmic Confederation.”

“Acutally I’ve heard of you miss Carlin. The first I’ve heard of you is when you helped some obscure alien people from some planet that were initially hostile towards some of your expeditionary and exploration forces, but you managed to befriend them and make them a part of the Confederation with some use of your natural powers. And you know what? I’d be content to have your word, since you are the daughter of two illustrious officials.” Vondell Wells said contently.

“I’d like to have your thoughts too miss Carlin Richardson.” Summer Wright also said with satisfaction.

>>49822783
22. “That’s great, now if you two please follow me to my office, perhaps we can have a proper interview.” Carlin walked off along with the Earth Government Journalist and one Confederation Reporter, then the three other Cosmic Confederation Media Journalists were left and Garryn was the next to entertain them.

“Hey hey fellow Cosmic Fed peeps. While my sister is off talking about mundane politics, I’m sure you two would like to have a word with me?”

The Federation Dwarf Journalist replied to Garryn. “Actually I wonted to speak to yar sister too. I’d find political topics more entertaining and informative.”

Garryn moved closer to the Dwarf woman. “C’mon Miss Jurggenson, don’t you want to get an exclusive with me? Don’t you wana know my latest feature film roles? And I’m sure you’d love to get some REAL one-on-one with me.” Garryn said with a hidden grin, especially the last part with some hint of seductive charm. The Dwarf female journalist then gave in.

“Well… Ya are one of the Federation’s best celebrities… Alroight, I suppose I could settle with an exclusive with you instead.”

Garryn then looked at the Confederation Elf Journalist; Gorduin Erra. “And you my fellow elven man. I can tell you’re more of a part of the celebrity news section rather than the actual news and stuff. I’m sure I can share you some of my stories for my fans to read too. Don’t you wana know how my date with Earthgov Actress; Alida Marin, born from the Earth Country of ‘Slovenia’, and also well known in the mystical land of Earth called ‘Hollywood?’

This interested the elven man. “Well you certainly got my attention Mr. Aemaris. Very well then, lead the way!” With that Garryn, the dwarven and elven journalists walked off someplace else, leaving Zentha and Kyle, along with Jessica.

>>49822947
23. “Well you gotta love our kids Zentha. And thank goodness the decided to get that paparazzo away from us.” Kyle said with relief.

“Indeed…” Zentha said contently as she looked towards Jessica Winslow. “And you Miss Winslow. Have anything in mind to tell me and my husband? I can tell you have an agenda.”

The journalist friend gave a sly but friendly smile. “…Soooo, can I have MY exclusive with you two. C’mon Kyle, now this time it’s me you owe a favor.”

“…Seriously?” Both Kyle and Zentha flatly said in unison till they both came to their conclusion at the same time.

“Alright Jess, I guess you can have an exclusive with me and Zentha. Seems fair enough.”

“I agree. It’s the least type of repaying we can do to you for finally taking our family portrait.”
And that concludes a story explaining the Richardson-Aemaris Family and a day-in-a-life episode about them.

>Fin.

###

Well that does it. Another numerous-number-post-story done by me, the author of the White Scarf.

Yes I'm the writer behind previous storythread story; The White Scarf;

>https://1d4chan.org/images/5/5b/TheWhiteScarf.png

So how goes this one? Anymore thoughts and comments? I can answer them shortly.

>>49780310
Indira brought in one last breath before she unraveled. Her arms no longer burned from the isometric strain, her spine no longer ached from hours of Sukhasana. She--or rather, her body--felt the ground drop away, but it was a faraway thing, a suggestion of a sensation rather than a feeling itself, the breeze without wind taking up her hair in handfuls. Were it less disciplined, her body might have smiled at this. Her face remained blank, void of even emotionlessness.

She rose, concentrating. Lines and circles formed around her, first in ones and zeroes, then coalescing into circuitboards green as the ocean, with lines of white silver written into them. Her forehead burned, but not with heat--it was the burn of opening, like Athena spilt and split from Zeus' head. The circuitboards surrounded her, washing over her with the lightness of a sunbeam and the weight of ten thousand days. She reached out with a hand that wasn't a hand, taking hold of one of those lines of burning silver, bending it at a perfect forty-five degree angle, sending it screaming down the green field before turning again and slamming into a new moon, permeating the strata down to the very core of existence. She turned her head, and the walls of her room were transparent, overlaid with copper and silver and gold, glittering like the eye of Odin, full of knowing, exposing reality for the coded illusion it was; with the merest wave of her mind, those illusions fell away, like waves taking away sand, hers to destroy or shape as she saw fit. Her eyes were watering, but they dripped star-stuff instead of tears.

Mike knocked on the door. "Meditating?"

She opened her eyes again. Mike's shirt had been blue when she began. Now it was red. "Just doing some coding."

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The door shut behind him with a heavy clack, shutting out the late night chorus of a restless city. A woman's voice whispered delicately from the intercom on the wall, "Welcome home, Nina." It paused for a moment. White lights danced across the screen, searching for any memory of the man in front of her.

Nina assisted the AI. "This is Jeremy. You haven't met him before. He's a new friend of ours."

Each dancing light now expanded and overlapped to illuminate the entire screen, and Jeremy's picture blinked into view. "Good evening, Jeremy. Pleased to meet you." The predetermined dialogue was polite and inviting.

"Likewise," he said, nodding toward the intercom. His face faded off the screen, and almost tense silence overcame the room.

Outside, people were cheering and drinking, despite the celebration having already endured for an entire day. But there was good cause. It was New Years. And on Island 1A, the new year marked more than just an additional circumnavigation of the nearest star. It was also Launch Day - signifying the day that the island's core was first launched into orbit. Virtually every One Alpha was on the street consuming an unbroken supply of drugs and booze. Their roaring just barely outmatched by the music pouring over the streets from the Island's integrated sound system.

It was in that ocean of festivity that Jeremy met and spent the evening with Nina, exploring every corner of the Upper Sector. Moments earlier they were forced to communicate exclusively with hand gestures. But now the quiet left an intense ringing in his ears.

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>>49823636
"Do you want to sit down?" Nina was already moving toward the couch.

He sat beside her. "So, what did you invite me in for?" He asked playfully.

With a subtle, but telling bite at her lip, Nina gave her answer. Jeremy pulled her into his lap, and she draped her arms over his shoulder. They sat, gazing at each other for a moment. Jeremy was uncharacteristically nervous but the courage the two of them had been drinking all night settled his stomach. He ran his hand gently along Nina's back - with the other he cradled her face - and the two fell towards each other. Their lips locked effortlessly, and their eyes closed. Bells still ran in his ears.

Quickly his nerves settled, and he focused entirely on the woman overwhelming his senses. The softness and warmth of her skin. Her hair - falling like a shroud over them. Her heavenly scent which he breathed in deeply, trying desperately to sample more of her flowery fragrance. The slight weight of her frame shifting slowly in his lap. It was as though the two were melting into each other. His lips dancing across her cheek and down her neck. Nina craned to on side, exposing all of her neck.

Then the ringing stopped. His ears and his head cleared. He heard something very distinct as she let her head fall to the side. Something that he had heard before. It was faint but there was no mistaking the muted winding and unwinding of countless minute gears and moving parts.

Jeremy quickly slipped out from under Nina, pushing her away and jumping up from the couch.

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>>49823642
"You're one of them!" He shouted, extending an accusatory finger.

Nina was taken aback. "What are you talking about? What's wrong?"

He stammered over his words. "You're one of them. I heard you. I heard your neck."

"Oh, no..." All at once she understood what had happened. "I'm so sorry, Jeremy. We spent the whole night together. I just assumed you had realized that I was..." Nina trailed off quietly.

"An Iode?" He finished brusquely.

"Yes." She responded, timidly.

Nina sat before him, nervously turning her hands over in her lap. Jeremy stood across the room, staring intently at her.

"Pilot or Iodian?" The question stabbed at her. Her gaze fell to her feet and Jeremy had his answer.

Iodian.

"Enjoy your evening, Jeremy. It was nice meeting-" The intercom was cut off by the heavy slam of the front door.

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>>49823651

COMMENTS

So this was just a little daydream premise that I had while taking a shower, so I thought I'd write it down and give in a little bit of meat. I like to just get some bullshit down on paper in order to start building a universe. It always made more sense to me to start with a scenario and figure out things about the world based on said scenario, rather than start with a world and try to force narratives into its confines.

What I've figure out so far:

Year is 200 AC (After Contact) Which is the first contact made with extraplanetary lifeforms. Starting in 100 AC, with help from the aliens that we encountered, we launched the first viable nuclear cores into orbit and began building cities around them. Why? Not sure yet. Possibly a scorched earth scenario? Possibly a precursor to intergalactic travel? Who knows, you tell me.

In this scenario, I have a human man mistakenly falling for an android called an Iode. Two different types: Piloted Iodes, which I figure would be Iodes with an originally human born mind transplanted into them. And Iodian Iodes, which I'm thinking are probably entirely fabricated minds. Hypercomplex A.I. to the point that they are indistinguishable from humans.

Now from there I'm going to have to dig a little (when it's not almost 5 in the morning). Why is Jeremy so disgusted with Nina the Iode? Why is being Iodian worse? I'm not quite certain yet. I'll have to figure that out. Class differences? Thats what i'm leaning toward.

Anyway. I hope you enjoyed my blurb. Any ideas or comments or feedback of any nature, drop a comment. You can feel free to drop in and expand the universe any way you see fit too if you want to use the setting as story inspiration.

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>>49819904
Is that you /pol/?

>>49823002
I'll read it once its in image form, but White Scarf was bretty gud.

>It took me all of a fucking week to write this, but now I have something I'd like to run by before sending it to the Bard.

The crashing star was the sort of activity that Nathaniel Sulley was looking for in this boring little hamlet. It had already been a month since he had a good fistfight, and this place had nothing else going for him. Crime was near-nonexistent, the people were all so nice and law-abiding that it put him on edge, and there weren’t any monsters out in the forest to beat up. Just approaching the crater had made him excited, the heat of the collision heating up his blood. There had to be something in here, even if it was just something valuable to sell.

The star was now little more than a smoking rock, glowing a pulsating dull orange. It was more than Nate could carry, but he didn’t care. The heat felt overwhelming, but his determination to get something out of this trip was all it took to keep going. As he approached the rock, he could only think about how many punches it would take to break it and if he’d be needing his gloves; to the latter question, he thought it only made sense to put them on anyway. To the former, however, he would find an interruption as the glowing grew brighter with each step. A hand extends, and to his surprise a fiery tendril emerges to match him. He approaches, and the tendril becomes more human in appearance. Their hands finally touch, and Nate jerks away from the fiery human before him.

“You do not show fear,” a strange, feminine voice reverberates. Nate jerks around to find who said that, but nothing else was there. Weird, it sounded so close.
“Why should I?” He asks. “My whole business is beating people up, why should I be afraid of some giant rock? Or a fire-person, but I’ve never seen one until now.”
The fiery figure remains still. “Do you think you stand a chance against me?”

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Nate’s stance remains unchanged, poised for any action under a relaxed exterior. “C’mon! If I knew the answer to that, then why the hell would I still be here?”
The fiery figure does not react to Nate’s attempt at levity. “You could die here.”
The thug replies, “It’s still be more fun than just sitting in this backwater little waste. Not like anything really goes on here.” For a moment, there is silence. The fire continues burning in front of him, and he refuses to move.
The voice speaks again. “Is this amusement all you wish for?”
He scoffs. “All I’m really good at. I’m not exactly what you’d call smart, I find being in the guard boring as hell, but I just couldn’t see myself ever going criminal. So, I decided to do the only thing available to me and become a wandering brawler. Sure, the pay’s utter crap, but I get to fight new things all the time and I’m not stuck anywhere.”

Again, there is only silence. This time, Nate becomes unnerved by it. His anticipation has been building with no payoff, and only now has it begun to bother him. “Well? What’re you waiting for? If you want something, bring it.”
“Your willpower…” it observes, “Your spirit… I feel a sort of kinship in it.”
“The hell are you going on about now?” Nate grumbles, his feet carrying him towards the cooling rock. “All I’m here for is the rock, whatever you’re planning, I don’t care.”
“We are alike.” The voice is now more direct. “The fire in your soul, it is the same fire that I have been seeking.”
This gives Nate a momentary pause. “What?”
The fiery figure’s arm stretches out, but already the flames are beginning to die down. “I cannot last long like this. Eventually I will cease to exist.”
“Sounds like your problem. So that means I can help myself to this?”
“What if I offered myself as well?”
“Wait, what?”
The fire approaches him, the fiery hand now reaching out. “I am the fire you bear inside you. My power can be your power; your life will be mine. Join me, and this can be yours.”

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Power, as it turned out, was a far greater lure for Nathaniel Sulley than any amount of money.
“You mean I can set things on fire too?” He clarified. “And you’re giving this to me with no strings attached?”
“Yes.” Already, Nate’s mind was racing. This was power the likes of which was never seen before, the powers only gods had. The temptation of such power, to abuse it and become a king, was great. It was no secret from his barely-concealed grin that he was seriously considering such a use. There was absolutely no downside to this choice. “What is your decision, human?”
“All for the ability to be more than just some street bum?” he muses. “You know what? Why the hell not?” Nate extends his hand out. “You better not regret this.”
The fiery hand reaches, and for a moment, they connect. “We will be forever bound. The only regrets henceforth will be yours.”

The figure dissipates. The fire snakes its way up his arm and spreads through his body, the heat becoming greater than that of the rock, more than a man could bear. He could feel himself burning, even though he couldn’t see it. Then, the fire recedes. The heat no longer matters. All that remains is Nathaniel Sulley, now empowered by that fire spirit, and the rock. He tests his gift by lighting a small fire in his hand.

The dim rock cracks, it hisses, and then it collapses. There is nothing inside but smoke.

Nate walks away. The rock is so little now when compared to the gift of fire. Just knowing that he had the ability to burn anything was worth far more than what could have been in there.

>>49823002
Author here, still waiting for any thoughts and or feedback for my week's story.

>>49824916
Thank you too, but maybe its best you read it now,, gonna take a long week for that one.

>>49823798
Not a bad start but as you said it leaves a lot unexplained.
if you're looking for some worldbuilding suggestions:
>we launched the first viable nuclear cores into orbit and began building cities around them. Why? Not sure yet. Possibly a scorched earth scenario? Possibly a precursor to intergalactic travel?
Why not go for a bit of both? Earth is not so much scorched as almost used up, growing populations plus environmental depletion and pollution, probably exacerbated by wars mean that prior to contact humanity was looking at a slow choking death.

Why is Jeremy so disgusted with Nina the Iode? Why is being Iodian worse?
> I think the class thing is good for at least part of that, since they were never human they are considered second class citizens, maybe even non-people. Perhaps Iodians were accidental? Some sort of emergent AI and thus burdened with mankind's old fears about rouge AIs and robot uprisings mixed with the usual distrust of the unknown. Also a potential source of dislike is if prepping androids for human mind transplants is a long involved process. If part of that process is creating the complex neural network and this is where a Iodian intelligence can emerge and thus render the body unsuitable for human transplantation then there could be a sort of 'they stole my chance at immortality' line of thinking going on.

Anyway good luck with your story and I hope you find my ideas at least inspiring as I do love to worldbuild.

This is really more /mgg/ than is it /tg/ but I hear y'all like Monstergirls, so any and all feedback would be appreciated. It's still a VERY early WIP though.

http://pastebin.com/kWiV7L3G

>>49690938
I liked it. I don't pop in many of these threads but I'm glad I read all the way through- at first I was worried it was going to be just... A weird erotica lol. Glad that wasn't the case. I liked the comparisons the narrator made about the women to his soldiers. And I felt so sad for the halfdemon at the end. And the mothers. Aah. Thanks for the story anon.

>>49687158
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=we4VSllrakc

"Bring it on girly, like women like you would make decent knights, let alone fighters!"

Alfild Bendixen was in a fight with Jorgen Anderson, a brutish man who was clad in a set of full metal armor. Yet Alfild Bendixen was also clad in a complete set of plate armor as Jorgen.

Alfild wanted to become a knight under the local lord's command, to prove that women such as herself were capable of such an occupation and that they're also capable of fighting tough.

"Perhaps we should settle this now Jorgen, I beat you in this duel. I become knight." She said in a calm and confident manner. The deal is that if she beats Jorgen Anderson; who is a a warrior serving under the local lord, Alfild will rightfully earn knightship. And this entire deal was approved of the local lord himself.

"Don't you worry girly, I'll go easy on you! Yaaaa!!!"

Jorgen charged to Alfild, but she parried his attack as both their blades clashed. For about ten minutes both fighters clashed each other's swords with Jorgen constantly yelling with each strike as Alfild parried and dodged each attack.

"Getting weary Anderson? Surely you could take down such a 'frail and fragile' woman such as myself. You boasted it yourself."

"SHUT IT WENCH! YOU JUST KEEP BACKING AWAY, LETS SEE YOU HIT ME THEN!"

"Alright, here I go then." Alfild Bendixen switched the sides of her sword as she was now holding the blade with her palms.

"AHahaha! What are you doing woman!? Holding the blade with your palms? You stupid or something? You wana become a knight but you can't hold a sword proper-"

Before finishing his rude and witty banter, Alfild struck Jorgen with the pommel of her blade, which resulted in him grunting in pain from the blunt force trauma.

"AHHH! YOU WHORE! I'LL GET YOU FOR THA-"

Before even finishing that sentence, Alfild struck Jorgen with the pommel again; this time on his head.

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While Jorgen's head was helmeted, the blunt force trauma still stunned him as he stance was not lowered and couldn't focus well. Alfild delivered another murder stroke to his upper body then another to his leg which made Jorgen loose his balance and falling to his ass. He was disoriented from the blunt force trauma to his helmeted head.

Alfild gripped her sword the normal way again and pointed the tip of the blade to the stunned warrior. As soon as Jorgen Anderson regained his composure, he found himself sitting dazed and facing the tipped blade of Alfild's sword.

"I believe I win this duel?"

Jorgen wanted to say something derogatory, something even witty to Alfild, but he realized he lost. And it didn't help that throughout all this time the lord was watching over the duel with his other advisers.

So Jorgen simply raised his arms in defeat.

"Well done Alfild Bendixen. You've beaten one of my toughest warriors of my house." The lord looked to his beaten warrior. "Perhaps you may learn something from my house's new lady knight, Jorgen. Welcome to house Northwest Ms. Alfild Bendixen. I hearby declared you a new knight of my house."

>End of short story