Storythread

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>>52700556

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>>52700578

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>>52700697

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First time poster Storythread poster here; giving a taste of the best of my game's atmosphere-establishing vignettes. There are 4 of them that lead up to the start of the campaign and this is the least embarrassing of them.

[Three hours ago]

Seeing that his train had finally arrived in Fayton, Algernonsagent activated himself, stood up, and gathered his belongings. As trains only ran in a single direction, and as his only destination had been but one stop down, his ride back into Fayton had taken over 30 hours - faster than a carriage would have been but not by very much. He felt that those 30 hours were a waste of a weekend, but they did give him plenty of time to contemplate his future plans as head of the Millington Brewery Company and only Warforged recognized as one of the 24 Esteemed Members of the Glittergold Consortium.

Stepping off of the train, he was was unexpectedly greeted by his company’s much younger vice president, Virginiasproxy, who was (in case the Gnomish naming convention hadn’t given it away already - this is PC knowledge by the way) a Warforged crafted by a female.

She was the first to speak, “Sir -- I have something to bring your attention: the iron obelisks that tower at the ends of Fayton’s bridges all glowed brightly for a short while earlier today; a classic portent of doom I am told.” This had his attention - the 4 bridges into Fayton each had iron obelisks at either end. These obelisks would glow brightly as soon as a sufficiently powerful evil force stepped onto the bridge, these obelisks also housed the bodies of many long-dead warriors who had died protecting Fayton in the ancient past. He had seen both happen a century and a half ago when the Conductor and his Instruments ruled the land from his throne in Fayton and was overthrown in a bloody rebellion.

cont.

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>>52701109

....
Algernonsagent reflected for a brief moment on his memories of those times; his aged creator, Algernon, had been on the wrong side of that war - and so had he. When Algernon died in some plot on behalf of the Conductor, his Warforged companion began to rethink his role and position in those events. Eventually, he concluded that the world would truly be better off with the Conductor dead.

Virginiasproxy then pulled a note from one of her many pockets, and handed it over before continuing. “The second, is that Blackwood, that Strongheart'd Halfling assistant of yours sent this note to me by way of some cantrip of his.”. Algernonsagent read the note in a quiet voice:

“Get to A-.
This was overheard:
“Get rid of the fool tonight”
“Can’t let those two talk”
“The Conductor will reward us for these”
Taking action now.
B-."

It was growing darker by the minute when the two Warforged began a mad dash toward the Consortium’s headquarters and dark by the time they arrived. When the finally reached their destination they were met with a crowd of guards, curious onlookers, and Consortium members. In the torchlight they could see the limp and bloody bodies of Wells and Howard; two Gnomes and fellow Esteemed Members of the Glittergold Consortium.

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>Storythread
>Needing a bump
>Ever

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Time for a bump

Dang it I am out of pictures

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Hey I'm a fresh DM with a lot of Dnd stories if anyone would like to hear a few I got some. High Fantasy, low fantasy, hardcore campaigns, you name it.

>>52700556
So would this be a place to share things I've written to flesh out character background and such?

And if so, should I green text it or post a link to a pastebin?

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>>52707574
Either one is fine.

>>52475195
>>52551939 (cont.)
The Foxwoods aren’t so much a “woods” as they are a full-blown forest, but the name’s been around since antiquity, when they still were. Then again, originally the name was in Elvan.

Some of the trees touch the clouds, and it’s said that the most ancient were planted in the Bronze Age. Thick trunks support a seemingly infinite number of branches high in the sky, with wood and foliage filtering the sunlight above to create a kaleidoscope of light and shadow upon the ground. Every so often leaves would depart from the branches and gently float down, their reddish tint a sign of the season’s passing. But animals still carried on, preparing for the impending frost. Squirrels skittered across the grass on the forest floor, collecting nuts fallen from the trees they called home. Birds also gathered food, along with molted feathers and animal skins to line their nests with, for the sake of both their health and the warmth of their eggs. Occasionally we’d see a fox, the more curious coming to greet their visitors and traveling with our horses for some time, before darting off to another corner of their forest to finish their business.

We took a break among the trees. At around noon we left the well-trodden dirt road through the forest and headed towards the nearby river. We sat in a little clearing, started a small fire, and had ourselves a leisurely lunch. We’d made good progress towards Fieldsport in the past four days; we’d leave the forest in the morning and arrive at the city by noon tomorrow, so why not take our time?

Janah left to refill our waterskins at the river as we finished our meals. On her way back she was attacked by three bandits; Alcance picked up that there was trouble, and from twenty meters nailed the halfling bandit’s hand to a tree with her bow. Vidt charged one of the two human men with his shield and knocked him flat on the ground, and Janah grappled and disarmed the other.(1/9)

>>52707755
I checked to see if they had any hidden weapons, but found none. We cleaned and wrapped the halfling’s wound, bound their hands and feet, then asked them some questions. Although the humans were annoyingly chatty, we learned nothing interesting; they told us that they thought Janah was a lone, unarmed, and easy target, even if she was a brawny half-orc. They said that the halfling would have snuck up and cut the tendons in her legs, then the two humans would rush in and everyone would stab her ‘til she died. A simple plan, but one that works.

Then Vidt found three carved pieces of wood while searching their packs. The markings were unfamiliar, but without a doubt they were ID tokens. The halfling took a glance at the sticks and sneered.

Earlier Janah, sweet and compassionate as she is, talked us into letting them go free. That wasn’t an option any more; if we let them go, they could run back to their camp and come after us again, with friends. The four of us, especially Janah, didn’t want to kill them, either. And none of us wanted to bring the three of them along with us for a day to turn them in at Fieldsport, so we had to leave them here.

I asked the party to help me tie them to a tree, then to go check our maps for any places where the rest may be camping. I told them that I’d continue the questioning alone. There were raised eyebrows and stares all around. I smiled and assured them that I wouldn’t do anything to hurt the bandits, which got them to leave. Alcance gave me a quick glare after the other two had left.

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

I smiled to myself. Trying to do this on such short notice was already stupid. Never mind that I had to do so the nice way. (2/9)

>>52707771
I took a seat near our fire pit, about six meters away from the bandits, and started going through my bag. I pulled out a compact metal kettle, a palm-sized jar, and a small paper package. “Would you like some tea?” I asked as I restarted the fire. “I’m sure you’re thirsty after all of this.”

They were silent, so I just started boiling water. While waiting I wiped off the cups the party used earlier with some cloth, and started preparing tea leaves for the four of us.

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” I asked while holding a finished cup in my hands. “I’ve even added honey to it.” Before taking a sip I stirred a bit more into mine, then cleaned the spoon and jar with a handkerchief. Aruze tea may be best pure, but it’s always nice.

I assumed they found Janah while they were about to take their own lunch by the river, and therefore hadn’t eaten anything yet when we caught them. Combined with the tea's naturally strong aroma and a bit of exaggerated enjoyment on my part, the two men drank some.

“Water.” Ordered the halfling, staring at the waterskin on my back. I raised my eyebrow but complied, pouring her tea into my own before wiping the cup with a handkerchief.

She finished it quickly. They had all finished their drinks as I poured myself another cup. “Nice, is isn't it?” I searched through my bag again and pulled out another jar, widening my eyes with fear as I held it in my hand.

I began violently rifling through my things, to the surprise of the bandits. After finding an amber bottle I quickly opened it and took three large swigs, panting as I pulled it away from me.

“What was that?” Asked the halfling, as they struggled to contain their laughter. Breathing heavily, I held up both jars.
“This is a jar of Elven Hachitum honey,” I said, showing them the second. “And this is a jar of Lizargon poison, which I confused it with.” (3/9)

>>52707781
“Did you just say Lizargon?” Asked one man.
“Those snake-faced freaks that live in the far west?” Asked the other.
“It’s very nasty stuff. A single drop is as deadly as a pint of giant spider venom."
“Stop joking around.” Said the first man, beginning to sweat.
“And the symptoms are horrifying. First is an unexplained feeling of weariness, which comes with an inability to sleep. Next is the increased heartbeat — victims can hear it pounding in their ears, and it eventually deafens them. Afterward there’s a constant feeling of dread, making victims paranoid at everything around them.” The color was rapidly draining from the two men’s faces.

“But that’s not what makes it deadly. The really horrible changes happen after around the fourth day. By then, victims become delirious and start seeing terrifying visions. Some attack their own friends while screaming in horror. And a great hunger develops, an insatiable craving for meat. Already unhinged from the sleep deprivation and the visions, they start tearing away at their own flesh, only to find that their bodies can no longer tolerate food or drink and immediately pass it, in bloody piss and pitch-black liquid shit. Victims die a week after being poisoned, with their minds broken and with their bodies torn apart at their own hands.”

“If one doesn’t take the antidote within the first day,” I picked up the amber bottle, “they can't be cured.”

The halfling laughed morbidly.

“How much of a dumbass do you have to be to mix up a jar of scalebones poison with fucking honey! You may have tricked these chumps, but I knew you were pulling something! I guess I’ll give you some credit for having the balls to drink so much of it yourself. But I’m not sure whether you’re crazy or just stupid.” She had a satisfied, shit-eating grin on her face. I looked directly into her eyes as I pulled a handkerchief out of my pocket. (4/9)

>>52707797
“I used this to clean the poison spoon and the jar, before using it to wipe your cup.”

“Th-there’s no way this isn’t a bluff. No-none of your pals wanted us dead — we even heard the bitch with butter-knives for ears tell you not to lay a finger on us.” The halfling said defiantly.
“Y-yeah!” Said the second man. “If it really was poison, what would stop us from just shouting and having them give us the antidote?” I continued to stare, pouring out more of the bottle’s contents in a narrow stream.

“The moment I hear you raise your voice, I empty this bottle on the ground. Then I go dump the poison jar and antidote bottle in the river. I'll bring the waterskin, cups, and spoon — I say I left to refill it and wash them after we had tea, and you started telling lies. It’s my word versus that of a bunch of bandits.”

I closed the bottle and walked up to them. Still staring, I cupped my hands around my mouth.
“Can you still hear me over your heartbeats?” I opened the bottle again, and silently started tilting it over.
“Y-yes.” Said the halfling, her voice barely a whisper. She spoke the second the first drop fell. Her face was paler than a sheet, and the men looked exactly the same. My lips curled into an evil grin.
“I hope you enjoyed your drinks. I have an offer for you.”

●●●

“Did you find anything?” I asked as I met up with the party.
“I’m not sure,” Alcance said, looking over a map. “There’s no big structures or caves where they'd likely be.” She pulled out an old book and flipped to a page she bookmarked.

“It’s about fifty years outdated, but this traveler’s guide has some older maps of the Foxwoods. There’s a toll house here, next to these crossroads. Both are missing from newer maps.”

“What about you? Did you get anything from them?” Asked Janah.
“Yeah. We heard some yelling.” Vidt followed up with a frown. I smiled, and started pulling things out of my bag. (5/9)

>>52707811
I smiled. and told them what happened.How I’d given the bandits Aruze tea, and tricked them into thinking that the Wine-Honey I added to it was poison. I said I’d made them think a bottle of Orcen Lovve wine was the antidote, and gave them quite a scare with the theatrics I used to sell the whole thing. “But they were back to their old mean selves after I ‘cured’ them.” I added. “I apologized and told them the truth afterward. The halfling sure knows some interesting swears. And multiple languages.”

Janah laughed in relief, and Vidt patted me on the back a bit too roughly. Alcance had a look of disappointment throughout the story, but even she seemed glad that nothing bad had happened.

“Anyway, Alcance’s guess is right. They said they were based at an old building near an overgrown stone road. Including the three we found, there’s thirty in total. Twenty-three men, seven women — fifteen human men and five women, the rest halflings.”

“That’s good to know.” Janah said.
“So we should be safe if we take a detour. Lass, what’s the best path to take?” Asked Vidt.
“Ah, well...” Alcance mumbled, pointing at the map as she traced paths with her fingers. We packed our things, including souvenirs from the bandits, and rode off.

“Wait, Bags. You used Aruze?” Alcance asked during the trip. She was reasonably disgusted; Aruze tea is best pure, after all.

●●●

We were all still a little on edge after that. To be safe we set up a watch schedule before setting up camp for the night, and I drew the short stick; I got stuck with the first shift. Janah kept saying she’d keep watch with me.

We all knew it was an excuse to justify why she was still up. It's understandable; I don’t think anyone ever forgets the first time someone tries to murder them.

“Janah, you need your rest. Attentiveness and alertness are an adventurer’s best weapons, and both are dulled by fatigue.” Admonished Alcance. (6/9)

>>52707823
“She’s right, little one. Take rest whenever you’re given the opportunity.” Vidt's scars and the way he carried himself made it plain that he’d seen a lot throughout his one hundred years of life. Although, for a dwarf, that's still young.

“I’ll sleep soon,” replied Janah. “Just let me, umm, clean my club.” True to her word she began to make good on the odd, adorable excuse. This was was the third one so far.

“Little one, would a story help you to go to sleep?” asked Vidt as she prepared to polish her armor next. She was silent, but the gleam in her eyes said all that was needed. Vidt smiled warmly.

“Well alrighty then. Make yourself comfortable. This here’s a tale dwarf parents tell their children as they tuck them in at night.”

“Long, long ago, during the golden age of magic, peace, and prosperity, there was a kingdom known as Ghraddenschint. It was the largest and most renowned in all of the Dwarven lands. For his coronation, the new king held a grand celebration at the royal palace, and sent invitations across the world. Men and women of all races and all kingdoms came to Ghraddenschint, and brought with them gifts of friendship. And out of the all the gifts he received, three stood out amongst the rest:”

“‘This is a magic staff, that can turn anything solid into gold.’ Said the human dignitary. The king was delighted — for, just like today, people in the days of old greatly coveted gold.”

“‘This is a magic barrel, that shall turn all water it is filled with into wine.’ Said the Elven dignitary. The king was overjoyed, because people of any age always find a friend in alcohol.”

“‘This is a magic pillow, that shall never fail to grant its user restful sleep.’ Said the Orcen dignitary. The king accepted the plain and modest pillow, along with all of his other gifts.” (7/9)

>>52707843
“Of all of the presents he received, the king used the magic pillow the most. While the magic staff could create untold riches, the age was already a time of prosperity, and Ghraddenschint was already one of the richest kingdoms in the world. And while the magic barrel made water into wine said to be matched only by the greatest vintages aged for millennia, a good king cannot shirk his responsibilities to constantly drink. But the magic pillow forever gave the king serene, refreshing sleep. No matter how little or in what circumstances he slept, it always made him rested. He brought it with him during all of his travels. During his daughter’s coronation , he passed it on as a gift to her. And she did so too for her child, who did so for their child, and so on.”

Janah fell asleep as soon as the fable ended, smiling contentedly. Vidt, too, was grinning, then turned to me. He had a serious look on his face.

“Lad, I know you meant well. But you could’ve easily taken that stunt with the bandits too far. I know you didn’t hurt them, but you can’t go around doing things like that to people you don’t like. Even if it’s for a good reason.” Vidt’s face softened and he placed an arm on your shoulder. “I trust you, you know. It’s why I let you go ahead with it. We haven’t known each other long, but I trust you.” He glanced over at Janah, then whispered the last part into my ear. “At the very least, keep these things a secret from her.”

With that, Vidt slept. I was left to mull over his words, while Alcance was busy organizing her things.

“He’s right, you know.” I nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Where in the wastes did you even learn to do something like that?” I grew quiet, turning my eyes away from her.

“That’s a long story,” I answered after a while, fiddling with an old harmonica in my pocket. “I’ll tell it some other time. For now, you should rest.”(8/9)

>>52707874
Alcance furrowed her brow and frowned, then turned to glare at me. She usually did that whenever she felt it wasn't worth the effort to keep up her wise, placid facade in front of me.

I took a deep sigh.

“Listen. I hate telling stories about myself. And we both know we’ll never be great friends, which makes me even less eager to do so. But that also means you won’t let things like that go, and so I’ll owe you explanations to maintain your trust. So I’ll tell you. Just not now.”

“Please.” I added. She looked at me.
“Vidt trusts you. Janah trusts you. I guess I’ll trust you too. For now.” Alcance said after a brief, heavy silence.
“Thanks.”
“You still owe me an explanation. Some other time.” She began to meditate right after the words left her mouth.

JOURNAL END

P.S. Check libraries on dwarven fables and find out if Vidt changed the ambassadors’ races. (9/9)

That's it for this thread. If you have the time, I'd greatly appreciate feedback. Especially negative because I like being able to hear what I suck at so I can try improving. I think this'll be a long-running pet project of mine, so hopefully I can make it feel like it's worth the time it takes to read.

Also, fucked up post 5 >>52707811. Should be
>“I used this to clean the poison spoon and the jar, before using it to wipe your cup.” That made her pause for a moment.
and should end at
>Vidt followed up with a frown.

>>52707663
On with my show then.

*****

"Once upon a time there was a little girl. She wasn't very different from other little girls, though she had bright red hair and couldn't play outside in the sun for long or her very pale skin would burn and blister. Because of it she couldn't play with the other children for long, and many of them made fun of her.

She was very young, and could only barely remember a time when her mother and father didn't always argue and yell. She thought all mommies and daddies were like that; so she stayed away from the other mommies and daddies because it made her sad when they yelled.

She prayed to Tria to make her mommy and daddy love each other again. But they only kept yelling. So she stopped praying to Tria.

As she got older her parents fought less, but when they did it was louder, and sometimes things got broken. One night her heart broke with grief from the angry yelling, and instead of hiding she walked in on them crying and begged them to stop. Her daddy hit her mommy so hard she bounced off the wall and slumped to the floor.

>>52708299
The little girl was frozen with terror as her daddy turned to her and raised his hand. She couldn't remember what happened when she woke up later; but the whole side of her head ached. She tried to sit up in her bed but it made her sick. Her mommy fed her broth later, and after a while she felt better; but she noticed her mommy was having trouble moving right.

When her parents started yelling again she tried to hide. She prayed to Silestra for protection. But sometimes her daddy would still come and find her. He'd drag the little girl in front of her mother and hit the little girl again. One night he twisted her arm very hard and she heard something inside break and it hurt worse than anything else ever. She stopped praying to Silestra.

Her mommy told the healer that the little girl had fallen out of a tree. The healer looked like he was nice, but something deep inside of the little girl told her he was a bad man; and she was afraid of him. The healer wanted money but her mother didn't have any. They went into another room and made sounds. Her mommy screamed.

The man came back into the room alone and set the little girl's arm. He was very unkind about it, and had a cruel smile when his treatment left the little girl in tears. When he left the little girl went to the room her mommy was still in and found her crying. Through the tears her mother tried to tell the little girl that everything was going to be okay. She didn't believe it.

She heard her father scream in pain. Then her mother screamed in pain, again and again, until finally her voice was cut off like a door being closed. She tried to hide. But there was nowhere in the little house that was out of her father's reach.

She tried to run away, but he caught her. She saw he was bleeding from his belly. She saw the still body of her mommy on the floor, laying in a pool of blood. She was thrown into a dark chest and locked inside; left for so long she ended up peeing on herself.

>>52708310
She prayed to Lii to get her father for killing her mother. When the chest was opened a strange man with dark skin and an ugly beard pulled her out. Her father had sold her to him and she was taken far away. She didn't pray to Lii again.

She didn't know the language. The man with the dark skin and ugly beard turned her over to an older woman with beautifully braided hair who taught her and spoke the little girl's language. The little girl was told the rules. If she disobeyed she would be beaten. If she tried to run away, one of the other girls would be killed.

She was dressed in clothes made of fabric that was barely there, that covered just enough to preserve her modesty. She brought drinks and food to the older men and women. She took care of the guests needs, bringing them whatever they wanted and passing messages. She helped in the kitchen and did whatever menial labor was expected of her.

She was naive and it was some time until she understood what was going on. Even then it had to be explained to her by the older woman with the beautiful braids. Men and women came to the place and exchanged money or valuable goods for pleasures of the flesh. Sometimes they even bought one of the other girls.

Nothing was fair. Nothing was right. Her father beat her and her mother and no one raised a hand to help them. The man who came to heal her arm did something terrible to her mother, and no one helped her. Her father killed her mother, and no one stopped him. She had been sold into slavery by her father, and there was no one to help her. Not even the gods moved to correct such injustice.

And her rage was finally born. It began as a little thing, a tiny grain in her bosom. But she held it close, and fed it, and it grew.

>>52708330
Years passed, and eventually all she knew was the smoldering hate for the world around her. Only the threat of violence against the other girls kept her where she was. But not only her heart changed. Her body had too. She was no longer a little girl, she was growing into womanhood.

One morning she woke up bleeding; and the woman with the beautiful braids told her what was happening. The little girl, now a young woman didn't understand why the older woman sounded so sad. Her old clothes were taken from her and what she received in their place was made of fabric that could easily be seen through. It was the same sort of thing the working women wore. The horror of what it meant finally dawned on her.

Terror gripped her heart. It left her mind and body numb. She didn't even realize what was happening until she found herself inside one of the working rooms with a man who's countenance she could only interpret as "hungry". Something in her broke and the young woman screamed when she attacked the man.

For a moment it seemed like she might get away with it. But she only pressed him back by virtue of the surprise he'd felt. He wrestled with her, and though the young woman bit and snarled and squirmed her fight was ultimately useless. He choked her into unconsciousness.

When she awoke she was beaten for her disobedience and thrown in a cage. The next day, the young woman refused to work. She was beaten again. The cycle continued for a week. Then things changed. Instead of the young woman being beaten another woman was brought in and beaten in her place.

She agreed to work the next day. That night she prayed to Sithaa to take her life. She woke up anyway, and never prayed to Sithaa again. The thing inside of her that had broken shattered and fell out of her heart.

>>52708349
She thought about the girl that would be killed if she tried to escape. She felt no guilt. She wasn't the one holding the blade. It was not her burden to bear. She was not responsible. The one who actually performed the killing stroke was; the people who allowed a place like this to exist were responsible.

She was a victim, that would be so no longer. Even if she died she would die free and unafraid. There was nothing left to lose.

The young woman couldn't recall how she got ahold of the knife, but it looked like it belonged to the dead man on the bed. She would always remember how it felt to kill him though. The memory would always bring her warm feelings.

She disappeared up the chimney and fortune smiled on her long enough to allow her to escape down the roof, down the side of the building, and into the streets. She stowed away on board a ship. She ate rats and discarded food and escaped into another city under cover of night.

The young woman grew without a home, family, or friends. She survived on streets that seemed bent to the sole purpose of breaking her. She learned that the only thing that mattered was strength because the only person that would look out for her was herself.

One day the young woman was caught stealing by a dwarven blacksmith. Instead of turning her in he gave her his coat and the money in his pockets. She didn't know what to do except to take them and run.

>>52708368
It was not long before she returned to the blacksmith. His behavior had been so incongruous with all her experience that her curiosity simply wouldn't let it be. In time they grew close, or as close as the young woman would allow anyone to be to her. He taught her to wield a hammer as a weapon. He made a suit of mail to protect her. If she had not been as hard as his anvil she would have known he was smitten.

Of course, all good things must end. While the young woman was making a gift for the smith; the only gift she'd ever made or considered giving; he was killed by men with greed and extortion in their hearts. Whatever had been left in the young woman's heart that might have known mercy, empathy, or well wishes for her fellow man died with him.

The woman took up work as a mercenary; and to this day she'll kill anything or anyone for money without a question or a care."

And that was the last time anyone in the mercenary company of The Devil Tigers ever asked Daisy to tell a story by the fire.

>>52707890
The only thing I could nitpick is that birds don't breed in autumn (least not any birds I know of, unless you count emperor penguins, but this is a forest, not the antarctic). Babies hatching when there is little food is a bad way to perpetuate the species, fantasy world or not. So I found that setting detail jarring.

I'd give you better feedback on things like pacing and such, but I'm not much good at it, and honestly, nothing jumped out at me as "bad".

As character and relationship developement go, it's not bad. Thanks for sharing.

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"Cannaryth."
"Yes?"
"What is it like knowing that so many people you know will die within the span of your lifetime?"

A burst of icy mist is ejected from the blue dragon's nostrils. Even among the chilly heights of these mountains, there was something far colder.
"What nonsense are you thinking about now, Vaeril?" The dragon's tone felt akin to that of a doting father to the elf in charge of him.
"It's been something I've worried about since we came back from the war," Vaeril mentioned while busying himself by cleaning his sword. "I know we've been through a few, but...well, the old captain's retiring. I've known him for decades now, and already he looks so old. Don't know if he'll be around to see his grandkids grow up and all."
Again, Cannaryth puffs. "And how does this relate to me."
"I'm getting there, hold on, bossy boots!" Vaeril continued, "Well, you're a dragon. You can effectively live forever. Weather means nothing to you, age becomes just a number, and you can heal yourself pretty fast. But then you have me. Elves live a long time, don't get me wrong, but... Compared to you, I feel like a speck of time. Will you even remember me hundreds of years down the line, when you get assigned to some other elf? Do you remember everyone who rode you?"

Sometimes it exasperated the dragon how many questions this child had. Even for someone who's supposedly lived for three hundred years, there were so many simple things that bothered him. He had no idea how one got to this sort of curiosity. "The things you think up..."
"So?"
"Does it really matter?" Seeing that elf's excited eyes bothered him, they always looked right at whatever he wanted but never what he needed to look at. He sighed in exasperation. "Impetuous whelp... Fine. If it will satisfy your curiosity, but before I do, I should ask how you feel knowing that you will outlast all of your human friends."
"Humans, huh..." Vaeril pondered.

>>52708738
Go on?

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>It has been a long time since I've posted/had anything worth posting. This is wip of a short story that fits within a larger universe. One of the problems is that it does fit within a larger universe, explaining certain things outright wouldn't make a lick of sense (I will put some contextual author's notes in spoilers) But here we go...

Lairn slumped down onto a gnarled, moss-covered root that creeped out from the base of a twisted tree. He'd be trekking for the better part of the day and needed a break. Looking above he tried to discern a pattern to the tangles of branches that wove through each other. He found none, almost as if the tree were fighting itself constantly. Despite the bitterly embroiled limbs of the tree, patches of sunlight beamed through. The shafts of yellow air were fuzzy with tiny buzzing insects and the dizzy dance of pollen, spores and floating seeds. It was a wild sight, reminding him of his employer.

>>52709110
Lairn had taken a contract with an eccentric wizard who, upon first meeting, had raved and ranted about the practical uses of enchanted hammers that pounded on the closest pound-able object. And then, like a switch, the crackpot had turned back to his workbench completely absorbed in a vial of pink, glittering fluid and had muttered something about the Root of the Quake Tree being an immensely powerful ingredient. Lairn had asked if that was what he wanted him to retrieve. A small twitch was all he’d gotten in return. He then had asked where one would find such an ingredient and was met with a withering stare that heavily implied he was a complete imbecile. A sarcastic reply came his way, “the Deep Grove you floundering freelancer. It's completely common knowledge, even a child would know it.”

>>52709137
Contemplating the weirdest contract he'd taken he stretched out on his seat. As he lay back against the gentle slope of the root, he took in more of the forest that surrounded him. The hum and buzz of insects mingled with the tweets and chirps of air-fowl. Occasionally, the white noise was broken by the wailing of a larger creature in the distance. “Predator or not, it sounded big,” thought Lairn. And the smell, oh the smell; Lairn’s nose was constantly bombarded with a wet, earthy scent that clung to everything. Sometimes the cloying, sweet smell of flowers and nectars would mingle with the rest of the scents. It was always a welcome reprieve. Despite this, Lairn concluded that this forest smelled distinctly ‘alive’.

>>52709148
Knowing he was going to be here for more than a few moments, Lairn began to familiarize himself with the rest of his surroundings. He was looking for ways his safety might be compromised. Across the way, a clutch of massive, towering trees that were surrounded by a veritable army of barely luminescent mushrooms would allow a would-be attacker to get within close proximity whilst remaining undetected. To his left and right, the game trail he was following was rather open and anyone would be hardpressed to stealth such a path. Dotted amongst his radius sight were small copses of arching fronds and spindly flowers framed by mosses and grasses. “Nothing to worry about from them,” he thought shifting forward. It reminded him that his back was comfortably protect by the dominant, twisting mass of tree he currently rested upon. It's spiderweb of wall-like roots spanned tens of plates* in all directions. Glancing back to either side of the root he sat upon, he noticed a shadowy meadow of dark flowers, leafy fronds, hanging succulents and black pools of water. Each area between the large roots was a unique garden.

*A plate is a standard measurement set forth by the lesser god of Order, Borute Odax, in his personal shrine, the 8 Plates of Order. The shrines outlines standard units for all measurements using the plates themselves as the standards in many cases. For example the 3rd plate outlines standard lengths, its sides being exactly one plate in length and its thickness exactly one plete. A plate and plete are roughly analogous to a meter and decimeter, respectively
I know its retarded and semi-edgy, but I rather like stupid snippets of lore.

>>52709148
An echoing roar, distant but urgent, brought his attention back to his analysis of threats. He couldn’t rely on his ears either; the dull, droning of the forest shrunk his zone of hearing. His sense of smell was fairly useless as well, drowned out by the musk of the forest. “Not that it mattered,” Lairn thought, “this deep inside the ancient wood and the winds simply ceased to move.” Turning back to the only threat he saw, he looked closer. The larger fungus had caps a full arm span wide and were half again as tall as himself. A sparkling rain of spores and toxins constantly leached from their underside. Shorter, fat tube-shrooms throbbed as they sputtered out puffs of more spores and poisons. Other funguses sat as great shelves on the trees themselves. They were deep bowls that oozed potent slimes and ichor. Weeping trails of dead wood and moss flowed down the trees beneath the fungal leeches. Amongst the largest mushrooms, smaller versions filled in the gaps while the ground itself was a mess of corpuscular tendrils and black muck. The dull glow of all the fungus made the clouds of spores and vapours glimmer like rain on a moonlit night. It was an enchanting display for something so deadly. Looking deeper and seeing no end the the field of fungus amongst their shepherding trees, Lairn quickly decided that it was such a threat itself that none could come from it. “Safe,” he thought, “a bit of rest here and then onward to the Deep Grove.”

>I'll post more in a bit

>>52708738
The elves of these mountains have been allies of the humans downwind for generations, with interbreeding between the two even being possible. Even with that said though, the lifespans between the two were definitely not the same. The elves were a hardy and healthy lot, capable for living for hundreds of years - compared to that, humans were considered lucky to even live past one century. Vaeril in particular knew humans, but he was never very close to any.
"Not pulling any punches today, huh Cannaryth?" He chuckles at the dragons disappointed snarl. "I...can't say I know a lot of humans in that way. I meet a few every now and then, we leave for some adventure, and when we come back, I realize a few of them are gone. And...I feel a bit sorry but it's not like I can do anything for them but hope they lived happily."

The dragon snorted again. "What? Did I miss something?"
"And you wonder how I feel? I am over one thousand years old. I have seen hatchlings become adults, nations rise and fall, and over that time, three other elves have mounted on my back. Of them, only one of them has grown to old age."
Vaeril commented, "And you were close to them. Like best friends."
Cannaryth only snarled, "We are not friends, pup."
"We're something like that, yeah. We get along, we fight together, and sometimes with each other. But even with that considered, I know I can trust you with my life."
"Because apparently you can't take care of yourself without me around."
"Sure, you'd like that," the elf laughed as he slung his sword on his belt. "I don't think it was such a bad idea pairing us together."
"I don't like the fact that they have to use magic for it," the dragon reminded his rider by scratching on the brand on his chest. The mark, though impossible to feel, was one that tied the two together for life. "Every time they do it, it itches even worse and nobody understands."
Vaeril agreed. "Not like it's any better for me." He placed a hand on his chest.

>>52709213
>way to screw up consecutive post numbers...

Lairn’s supposed safety was shattered by the rustling of uncountable leaves, cracking of branches and, finally, an earthshaking boom as something struck the forest floor in front of him. As the cloud of dust and pollen settled, a massive figure was standing, wreathed by a falling rain of twigs, floating flowers and fluttering leaves. The scattered shafts of light that pierced through the canopy seemingly shrunk away, darkening the entire area and shading the visage of the mysterious intruder. And try to see Lairn did. Taking in the full scope of what stood before him, all he could see was the outline. It was a full two heads taller than him and far wider. The hulking beast’s outline was broken up by massive horns spiraling off in maddening directions, many splitting up multiple times. Several flat but wide tails fluttered in a wind only they could feel. Still unable to figure out was standing before him, it was undoubtedly hostile, evidenced by the massive war club in one of its monstrous paws. A great sucking of air proceeded as it reared it’s head to utter a warcry.
“Haven't seen a fay in these parts for sometime…”

>>52709974
A weathered, scarred face came into the light as the creature leaned down towards Lairn. “I figured I’d finally scared all you off,” the face said in a labored, guff baritone voice. Lairn was transfixed, out of fear or surprise, he didn’t know. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He could barely think. Given the cragged and browned face inches away from his own, he was guessing he was face to face with an Earthen fay, a rare sight anywhere nowadays. Taking a risk and glancing around at the now visible fay, he could see what primal fear had mutated into evil implements of a monster. What once were twisted horns, revealed themselves to be twigs and brambles of trees and shrubs he'd never seen before. Misshapen lumps resolved into a breathtaking set of bronze armor gelded with the bark of ancient tree; moss, lichens and small mushrooms had long taken up residence. It spoke again with that deep breathy voice, “well, say something.”

so 'fay': the term for the base race inhabiting this world. Some are vastly different in appearance or mannerism. But they are all fay. Lairn is part of the Fair Fay, a very normal looking fay. Think human with just a dash of elf thrown in, ears with a slight point, lighter skin.

>>52710073
“Speak, boy. Or do you deign me not worthy of even addressing me,” the large fay accused Lairn, “it's clear to me you hold little respect for anything. Not me. Not the forest, either. I was upon you even after you looked right at me.” The earthen fay stepped back whilst plucking a shroom from one of his massive pauldrons and laid into Lairn again, “I knew of your intrusion the moment you set foot in my forest. I watched you walk as if you owned the place.” His voice rose, “Arrogant! Selfish! Your kind is not but pompous fools!” He slammed the giant warhammer into the dirt, throwing debris and leaf litter upwards, “~fair~ fay indeed! I was right to ward off trespassers!” The hammer swung back around coming down right next to Lairn, throwing up more debris and a glittering halo of water as the strike disturbed a silent pool in the root-garden. The perturbed fay rushed forward, his grisled face mere inches from Lairn’s once more, “what say you!”

>let me know whatcha think, I've got several more posts-worth written up as well

>>52709513
He couldn't feel the binding mark either, but he felt that itch just as keenly. "You at least have scales and thick skin. I can't exactly get that sort of benefit."
"These marks don't fade." Cannaryth's tone was very somber. "I can still feel each of them even though they're gone, and it bothers me. I'm sure I'll be remembering your mark too a few hundred years down the line."
"Does that mean you miss them?"

The question had the blue dragon lower his head in contemplation. For a moment, Vaeril was worried that he might have asked a very sensitive question. "Hey, if I asked something really tough, I don't mind letting it go..."
"I do." The response startled the dragon rider. "I cared for them all in some way. Ettryan was like a little brother to me, and to see him cut down in his sleep is a shame I can never redeem. I tried to make that up with Lusha. I took so many blows to ensure that she was safe, risked so much. She lived, but she always felt guilty that she held me back from doing so much more. I tried again with Eliael to help him follow his dreams. He sacrificed himself to stop a chaos dragon from destroying a volcano."

The revelation left Vaeril speechless. Cannaryth never spoke about his previous riders so much before. He never even knew what they did before now. He had no idea there was so much his partner regretted. "Hey, I...well, I know we haven't done...any of that, but..."
"I'm not disappointed in you, Vaeril. You're annoying and always seem to make all sorts of pains for my tail, but you've been a good rider." He nudges the nervous elf. "I can't stop you from doing stupid things, but I don't need to. You're a crafty little runt. You know when to get serious."
His confidence restored, Vaeril pats his dragon a bit. "Aw, shucks."
"You're still an idiot."
"Yeah," he chuckles. "I wasn't much for book-learning anyways. I like the feeling of just figuring out things."
"A little too much, I fear." Cannaryth sighs.

>>52707319
Wrong kind of thread.

>>52710706
"But to answer your question, I do know loss. I have felt the loss of great allies, I have seen broodmates lost to their own vices. I have mourned the passing of many great things since then. I will no doubt experience these feelings more as time goes on."
"Did you...at least appreciate what you had with them?"
The dragon stared at the elf for asking that. "What kind of fool are you, thinking you can worry over me? Of course I did! I loved them like my own children!"
"So, what are you worried about then?" Asked the elf. "You've got a lot of stories, and you can tell those stories to the riders after me, and to my kids, and to their kids and so on. Just because you can't see them all doesn't mean they're gone." He pats Cannaryth, "Those stories are how they live on for years and years after they leave us!"
"You're so cocksure that I can remember them all."
Vaeril smiles, "Course I'm sure! I trust you with so much already. What's remembering me going to do that you don't already?"
"Brats sometimes," The dragon grunts.

Vaeril wrapped his arm a little around his dragon's neck. "Don't worry, pal. I've enjoyed being with you, even if you kinda don't."
Again, Cannaryth grumbled. "Impetuous youth." But this time, he smiled. That impetuous youth had a point. He'd be remembering everything, and even when Vareil was long since deceased, those memories would ever be gone.

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Back from a three day vacation and feeling the pretty great.

May I request a sweet, cute and heartwarming tale with pic related?

40K people will recognize this as An LCB pic

>>52714409
Maybe...I will try to come up with something, but not promising anything good...

>>52708675
Yeah, I didn't think that bird thing through far enough. I wanted to have the birds to be doing something, especially because in this setting seasons are the same regardless of hemisphere, but finding food and doing things to make winter more bearable would've been enough.

I'm glad that you liked it, or at least didn't find it terrible; I'd really hate to be a guy who takes up ~ten posts every thread posting something everyone else thinks is terrible. I'll work on making things more enjoyable/well thought out.

>>52714720
I liked enough I'll read more.

That spoiler protected part? That would be VERY jarring to me because the way that works IRL sort of _has_ to be the way things work. Now if "The gods say it is so" that's cool, just be sure you explain that to the reader before or as they find out about it.

>Been lurking for a while, first time I've been motivated enough to actually write something in ages. No larger world or existing setting, I just felt like practicing writing dialogue.

>Probably shit, but hey.

‘All i’m saying is, if you hadn’t tried to rough up the innkeeper and let me sweet-talk the bargirl, we’d have the package already and we wouldn’t be in this mess.’

Tabs grunted. “Sweet-talkin’, that what you call it now? Might be sweet for you, sure, but that’s no way to get the job done. How was I supposed to know that fat bastard was keeping that crossbow under the bar?’

Sal rolled his eyes. ‘He’s an innkeep, Tabs. In Hardwell of all cities. Be glad the poor man merely drew on you, instead of letting the troll in the corner take care of things.’

‘Poor man?’ Tabs said incredulously. ‘Poor? Sometimes I think you’re too soft for this line of work. You’d be singing a different tune if he’d skewered me with that thing.’

‘Ah, but he didn’t did he now?’ Sal hoisted one arm over his friend’s meaty shoulder, staggering slightly. ‘You need to stop taking things so damn seriously.’

Tabs sighed, taking in the moonwashed street. Lights flickered in the windows of inns, bars and other establishments too ramshackle to qualify for either name. The problem wasn’t Sal’s way of doing things, per se. It was just inevitably Sal would get distracted by some piece of skirt and the whole plan would go on hold, without a single word of warning to inform him. Still, you play the hand you're given, and the diminutive thief’s silver tongue had gotten them out of as many sticky situations as it got them into. He just wished Sal would be a little more professional once in a while.

He snorted at the idea under his breath. Sal glanced up with a quizzical look that he batted back down with a wave.

>1/2

>>52716831


‘Nothing. Just caught myself thinking is all’.

‘I’ve warned you about that.’

‘Hmm?’

‘Thinking. It’s bad for you, you know.’

‘Fuck off.’

Sal recoiled in mock horror. ‘So offensive!’

‘Hey, if anything, overthinking things is your problem, not mine.’

Sal chuckled. ‘See, that’s the spirit! Come on, I know a place not too far where we can sit and forget about all this until the morning when we see the boss and explain how this really isn’t our fault.’

Tabs stopped dead in the street, a cold feeling running up his spine. ‘Aw, shite, the boss! He won’t buy it you know, not after last time.’

Sal gave him a sly grin. ‘You underestimate the powers of Salacious Gerstman, my friend. Leave worrying about tomorrow till tomorrow.’

Tabs, barely listened as he stared at nothing, stopped dead by the. ‘How in the bleeding world am I going to forget this pig of a job?’

‘With me, these two sweetlings I know and several mugs of pale at the Absent Hand off of Thirdman street?’

‘The Absent Hand? What happened to the hand and why did some sap name his pub after it?’

Sal rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t know, Tabs. If we knew what happened, it wouldn’t be absent now, would it?’

Tabs tried to work his way through Sal’s catastrophic logic and failed. He grunted. ‘And what else might we find at this….place of yours?

‘All manner of fine wine, music, poetry…’

‘If I wanted to listen to poetry, i’d stop by the old gaolhouse and listen to the drunks caterwaul,’ Tabs grumbled. ‘It’s cheaper, and I don’t have to listen to no pisspoor bard singing about their lady problems.’

‘Come on now, if I hadn’t picked you up, where would you be now? Down in the old quarter, quaffing that swinewater they call ale and fighting drunks for pennies? No, my friend,’ Sal said, poking Tabs in the stomach. ‘You, my friend, you stick with me and we’re destined for greatness.’
>2/3

>>52716841

Tabs raised an unimpressed eyebrow. ‘Does greatness always mean being freezing cold in the street with an empty purse and a disappointing payoff at the end of it all? Because if so, i’m feeling pretty damn great right now’.

Sal smiled. ‘Well now you mention it -’

Whatever he was going to say was lost to the wind as a lithe woman dived out of a window clutching a small package, narrowly followed by a hail of crossbow bolts, a few rocks and what looked like several large drinking tankards.

Tabs let out a sharp laugh. ‘Looks like Mel’s having a fun night.’
‘Hey Tabs,’ Sal started uncertainly. ‘Correct me if i’m wrong, but that thing she’s holding isn’t the package from our job, is it...?’

Tabs squinted. ‘Nah...Can’t be, right?’

The duo stopped dead as a slim figure draped in rags slipped out of an shaded alleyway, wrenched the parcel out from under Mel’s arm and sprinted off into the darkness.

‘My dear Tabs,’ Sal smiled. ‘Looks like the job’s back on.’

>3/3

>That's all, hopefully it wasn't too awful and the formatting is OK. Critique is extremely welcome.

>>52716831
>>52716841
>>52716858
This is pretty good, mang. Dialogue flows nicely, both characters have distinct voices, and you manage to mostly stick to showing and not telling to describe the scenario. Keep at it.

>>52721124

Holy shit.
I want to maintain her armor for her and give her a hot bath.

>>52724752
Isn't that Constantine?

>>52725592
No idea. Also, I think the point of the thread is kinda that you tell us.

>>52725592
Yes.

>>52710104
>And we're back

“I-I’m Lairn,” he shakily managed to get out, “-give me… I-I mean, please, forgive me.” Lairn saw the other’s face twitch, a slight arching of an eyebrow. A bit more confidence came to his voice, “forgive me if my wonderment and amazement seemed to you as arrogance. It was all too easy to abandon one's wits and wander from one wonder to the next. Before you came upon me, I had sat down to rest and had to forced myself to check my surroundings for my own safety. Even still, I could not help but see the beauty in what I saw. This forest is amazing and i daresay you are its steward.” The old fay stepped back again, realizing he still held the mushroom he'd picked. Taking a bite and savoring the deep earthy taste a smile came to his face for the first time. It made it all the more pitted and craggy. He spoke between bites, “you are correct. This wood holds many secrets and wonders, each as breathtaking as the next. I am its shepherd, the Arboreal.” He was wandering around munching the shroom and checking the trees. His expression turned sour, “however, it will take more than silver words and buttery compliments to change the stone-set mind of earthen fay. Tell me your purpose here. Confirm what I already know. You are not some humble tourist. You want something.” Lairn mumbled something while turning his head downward. Footsteps thundered towards Lairn, “what was that.”

>>52728185
“I came seeking the root of one of the great Quake Trees,” Lairn mumbled again. The Arboreal stopped dead in his tracks, even his mouth refused to continue to chew. “Tell me I misheard… ‘'cause it sounded like you want a piece of one of the trees of the Deep Grove,” the Arboreal ground out barely managing to control his growing ire. Lairn withered where he sat cowed into uncontrolled silence once more. The giant earthen fay erupted into jittered, controlled anger. His massive warhammer carved wide divots into the forest floor throwing up plumes of black dirt then made the air grow even hazier. “Where does a spoilt, moronic fair fay get off demanding something from the most sacred wood of the forest!?! All you whelps from that prissy Kineveldt spend your lives suckling the queen's and your mother's fat tits and then when you tire of that, you think the rest of the world owes you!” the Arboreal was shouting now, jabbing his rocky finger into Lairn’s chest for more emphasis. It was definitely not needed to get the message across. The frustrated fay continued to vent, “fair fay, gods-damned some of you are no better than the Twisted ones! Thinking you're even worthy enough to see the Deep Grove, you're not even worthy enough to set foot in my forest!”
>1/2

>>52728216
The Arboreal had since tossed his hammer away, by accident or purposefully, Lairn didn't know. The spurned fay was resorting to hammering his hardened, gnarled fists into the soft ground. Lairn did notice that even when it looked like he was going to take his impressive anger out on a tree, be it root or trunk, he always change his strike or pulled it. His tirade had brought the Arboreal back towards him. The angry stomps were sinking holes in bare dirt, compacting greenery elsewhere. All the while his breathing had grown so rough, almost haggard, that it was mixing in with his speech, which was now just vexed muttering. “Fair fay...gods-damned fair...fair fay…” Lairn’s fear had fermented into anger as well; the liberal use of the term 'fair fay’ had seen to that. The Arboreal neared and Lairn’s legs pistoned him upwards. His forehead ground to a halt against the knobby, tough skin of the other fay’s head. If the Arboreal was surprised, he didn't show it. Lairn grunted out through gritted teeth, “I. Am. Not. Fair. Fay.”
>2/2

>>52728228
The Arboreal softened just a little bit, taking pleasure in seeing some gumption in what he had assumed was an otherwise worthless fay. “Oh?! Explain then. Indulge me! Because in this place, if it looks, smells and feels like a wharl tree, it sure isn't a skyflower.” Lairn refused to budge his head, even pressing harded. His eye glowed with passionate fire, “you think I had it so easy! Well, I've got news for you! I'm a Lone-borne! No mother! No father. No memories. The fair fay don't treat me like one of their own! I may call the Kineveldt home but I'm just as much an outsider there as I am here!” Lairn was frantic and breathing hard. He'd quit the deadlock and started pacing. It wasn't everyday that he divulged such personal information. It was like the dam had broken and he was helpless to stop it. The Arboreal had retrieved his warhammer and was leaning on it, staring at the fay. Anger had seemingly turned to a weird mix of curiosity, mirth and pity, “no memories?” Lairn looked upwards at the forest guardian showing that his face was flush and tear-streaked. Defeated, Lairn unceremoniously dumped himself down to the dirt path where he stood. The leaf litter crackled and the ring of dust settled just as quickly as he had. Lairn paid it no mind, “every time I try to remember things like that it turns gray. Empty. Like I'm trying to remember a dream. I don't know how the others deal with it…”

>thats all I've got written up for now. If there's interest, I'm more than happy to start hammering away again, else I'll just work on it at my leisure.

>>52700556
Hello Chronicler, thanks for the inclusion of my story that's part of my setting from last week. Though I just want to let you know or remind you that the story I made last week, the Twin Refugees as you titled it, is actually directly from the story: Gemini Rising:

>https://1d4chan.org/wiki/File:Twincest.png

Perhaps you should outhgta include or mention that Twin Refugees is directly from Gemini Rising and that I decided to incorporate it in my setting. Thanks.

First timer, I'd like some feedback on a story idea I had. It's basically meant to be an RPG, but I'm pretty sure it could also be made into a single player story otherwise.

The setting is nothing special with some magic and some lesser monsters to keep it simple. First advancements to new technologies such as dynamite can be seen, but it's very new so not that many know about. Whole setting is basically for the sake of making writting easier.

A young man arrives at a region to visit his grandfather. He's never been there alone, plus the last time was more than 10 years ago with his parents. Still, he decided to pay his grandpa a visit and travelled alone.

Shortly after he arrives, a merchants asks for help to escort him to the city to where he agrees, being introduced to the region. From there on the player can freely roam the region and do quests. He can even go to his destination and finish the game, but each quest would alter the fate of the people in the region a bit. The catch is, every single quest puts the people closer to misery. For example:

The protagonist meets a girl in the city who plans to secretly meet her close friend in a forest across the plains in front of the city. She asks you to escort her to that forest. Meanwhile in that forest are a stranded spy who plans to assassinate the king of the country and that female friend. Now there are multiple endings for that quest.

1/2

>>52731942
Before you escort the girl to the forest, you can give the assassin a nearby sword, which has been dropped by a royal knight. Shortly after he will meet the friend of the girl, who will recognize the sword, calling him a bandit. As he's scared of failing his mission, he silences her. Either by killing, or just catching her. In this scenario he'd probably not assassinate the king as he doesn't have the equipment to travel alone unrecognized. He'd probably rape the girl's friend and/or sell her on the black market

If the player picks up the royal sword and returns it to the knights, the assassin would just kill the king.
If the player still helps the two girls afterwards, they'd go into the forest alone to pick rare flowers/have some romantic sex/whatever. However, during that, they accidentally set the forest on fire, dying in the process

If the player meets him during the escort, the girl would pressure him to help the stranded man, who would later kill/rape/kidnap the girl and her friend and then set out to kill the king.

That's the general gist of the sidequest. Other ideas are digging for treasure near an important body of water, but the protagonist just finds oil, poisoning the water around him. He may also trigger a war.

It'd be nice if I could hide some of the results. By sealing of the forest for example. I would still give hints, like having the mother of the girl worry about her daughter. She'd just assume she's with a man though.

>>52732037
At the end of the story, the grandfather, living on a cliff, would reveal that he could see everything (if the player did any questing of course) For that he can see anything in his field of vision as if it's in front of him. He can also show it others through touch. So he'd show the young man the results of his visit, like rape, poisoning, hordes of monsters, whatever comes to mind really. During this conversation the young man is becomes mostly silent, just letting it in to have a greater impact on the player.

Finally the old man would ask the young man/player if he noticed the results of his actions. And if he can truly be condemned for them, since he doesn't know the result beforehand. Just because he brought ruin to the people the last ten times, doesn't mean he'll do the same next time, much like a coin that showed heads ten times in a row. As his final line, he would ask the young man "So, will you do me a favour?"

To emulate the time aspect a bit, I would make each quest let the world progress one step. In the example above, the assassin needs "three steps" to reach the city and kill the king. In other words: After helping the assassin, he'll kill the king after the player completes three other quests (or reaches the grandfather's house). This would make it easier to mask result of each quest.

>>52732037
>>52732128
>>52731942

Might want to reread the OP, the storythread might not be the best place to ask this. If DnD, /5eg/ maybe?

>>52732146
I wasn't sure, this was the closest thing I was looking for. The idea was for a video game, but as I said, it could also be played as a single player PnP

>>52732208
I get that, but this still really isn't the right place for it. Try making your own new thread for it.

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>>52732146
>>52732208
>>52733118
Well we don't have to be that strict. I mean yeah, technically it's not exactly what we're looking for, but it's within the ballpark. This thread is fundamentally here to help writers with whatever they're working on. The only reason I got more specific with the requirements in the OP was because people would often mistake this thread for an 'epic campaign greentexts' thread.

picture unrelated.

bump..I am out of pics

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Been a quiet day.

Don't die, thread, I'm in the middle of writing something.

>>52747036
>>52737643
There pictures have a similar theme, must resist writing anything related to that....

>>52747368
Do it potential author. DOOO EEEEIIITT! Write story about a loving human husband and his dragon-girl wife being happy about their soon-to-be-born child. >>52747036

Or the pretty royal looking lady who's praying to the god(s) that her baby boy or girl will be a good one and that her husbando is well >>52737643

>>52747404
Well first one wouldn't far shot from what I usually write (After all I had dwarf and, for lack of better term, drider getting along, while raising kobold tribe together with a whitedragoness)

As for second one...Well I do have something similar, but there is no king, only necromancer that loves the queen he saved long ago....

>>52747368
>>52747583
Go on, you know you want to. Not that I'm encouraging smut, but there's no actual rule against it.

>>52747877
Don't worry I tend to avoid that

>>52747906
Well I wish you luck potential author. While I'm leaning for the human and his pregnant dragon-girl spouse, I don't mind the preggers royal woman who's wishing to the gos her husbando is A-OKAY.

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>>52747877
Excuse me Chronicler, I don't mean to be nosy. But I just want you to see >>52730965

And let you know that my last week's story, Twin Refugees:

>https://1d4chan.org/images/f/fd/Twin_Refugees.png

Is based on another story written by another writefag, which is Gemini Rising. (Pic related)

And maybe you could make a minor edit that says Twin Refugees would be my continuation of Gemini Rising and that I decided to incorporate it in my setting. Thank you.

>>52714409
Hmmm, I might think of something out of this picture aswell, but maybe later or tommorrow.

But as a guy who likes LCB too, I hop this guys -> >>52714496 Also comes up with something 40K with this pic too. >>52714409

>>52748508
I have a rogue trader and her sanctioned mekboy left over from my last silly story

>>52748299
Who said that royal has a husband?

"So uh, guess we are going to die now." Eric said as the light turned green.
"Guess so." I answered. Now that I know what was going to happen the entire conversation seems silly, but you have to understand the following: in that moment none of us knew combat. Sure, we have been trained in shooting, stabbing and reloading and all that, but actual combat with the enemy was new to us.
We all stood up from our seats and prepared our gravchutes. Pushing buttons and turning knobs, checking valves and values. It felt just like a drill, but at the same time it didn't. Atleast I wasn't first to jump, I was second.
The actual jump was short and uneventful. You are too focused on keeping controll of your gravchute to look around and 'enjoy' the sights, if looking upon a battlefield that used to be home to some poor imperial souls can be considered 'enjoyment'. I landed near a bunch of trees, the guy before me didn't manage to evade them. Got pierced by something or another. I didn't look too closely. Since that moment I never really look at dead bodies. I didn't mind looking when father was burried, but this was different.
The artillery fire was immense, and the weather was on our side: clear skies allowed the navy to join our big guns beyond the horizon. So I did what I was ordered to do and shot my astarium flare into the sky, thus marking the ralleypoint. This used to be the task of the first guy, but since he and his entrails were hanging from some tree, it was my job now.
Didn't take long for everyone to show up. Eric was among them. Even though I only knew hin for around three hours, and actually knew his name for twenty minutes, it felt good to know he made it down.
Now it was time to move towards the enemy.

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Bump before I start writing

>>52748299
Well I am off to write then

Time to bump before the night

>>52757572

Itaf: We are so lost.

Seskhen: The Master is never lost, the Master always knows exactly where he is. It is the Temple Ahek Shu-ra that's been misplaced, not him.

Itaf: Ah I see, perhaps one of the cleaners put it somewhere while they were dusting.

>I can hear you two you know.

Seskehn: Hmmm, but I do all the Master's dusting myself, and I don't remember having moved any ancient Nehekharan temples.

Itaf: Maybe you mistook it for something else, judging by our travels that seems to be a very common problem.

Seskehn: Yes, it is true that ancient Nehekharan temples are often confused with mountains, cities, dungeons, quarries, bandit camps, volcanoes-

Itaf: And the lizard, don't forget the lizard.

Seshehn: It was a very big and ancient-temple-like lizard though. An easy mistake to make.

>Your feeble attempts at wit are as distracting as they are pathetic. Cease your chattering.

Itaf: Well, Seskehn, if the Master is never lost and you're sure you didn't misplace the Temple, perhaps it's the rest of the world that's been moved

Seskehn: Ah yes, that must be it. While the Master was looking elsewhere, some miscreant moved the entire universe.

Itaf: But who would do such a thing?

>>52759296

Seskehn: Perhaps it was Archmage Kemephrem, he was quite the mischievous fellow. Remember when he use to hang the Master from the academy's walls by his underwear?

Itaf: If he was wearing any, do you recall the time he levitated the Master to the academy's highest spire and-

>Remind me again why I bring you fools with me?

Itaf: Because you hate yourself almost as much as you hate us?

>Besides that.

Itaf: Our rugged good looks?

Seskehn: Our impeccable manners?

Itaf: Our witty banter?

Seskehn: Our willingness to clean up after your never ending string of failures?

Itaf: Wait, I know, is it because our souls were irreversibly bound to yours when you botched that immortality spell?

Seskehn: No, that's silly, it's definitely one of the other ones.

>Someday I will lift this curse, if only so I can have the pleasure of throttling you two with my own hands.

Seskehn: That's the spirit Master!

Itaf: Now try applying that energy to figuring out where in the seven hells we are, and maybe you'll get your chance THIS century.

Seskhen: One can only hope.

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>>52759296
>>52759309

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The doors flew open as his commander strode into the room. He stood at rigid attention, facing the oft abused desk of his leader. She turned and stopped behind her desk in a sharp motion while casually knocking over several stacks of paperwork on it to the floor. He gave no reaction to the sight and stared his commander in the eye as she glared at him.

"You read the mission report. You know the details. Questions?"

"No, ma'am." He almost made his back more rigid, out of habit from when he was younger. She wouldn't appreciate the gesture however, thinking it was a subtle jab at her authority which often lead to a not-so-subtle jab at him.

His commander was pulling a rolled up paper out of a drawer. She spread it out on the now empty desk, revealing a detailed map for his eyes. "You'll head to this village here,"—a jab of a deceptively hard finger—"and rendezvous with the surveillance squad. One of them will have a picture of him. He won't acknowledge who he is publicly. And it has to be someone with an Alliance insignia that approaches him. After that, it's up to you." She gave him a stare with her amber eyes.

"Anything to say?"

"No, ma'am." What kind of incompetent did she take him for?

She kept staring at him, as though trying to peel back his skull and expose his strands of thought. Her red lips turned to a frown. "Do you feel you're capable of this mission? The danger threat isn't the highest, but if you were to encounter enemy combatants in your condition, you could—"

"Respectfully, commander, I am capable of this mission. And if there are complications, you are committing one medic to trail me to the rendezvous."

Her face hardened again. "I know you're quite capable, all things considered, and medical service will be close by, but that doesn't mean you won't get killed if you're mobbed by a dozen assassins."

He almost smiled at her tone. Abrasive, angry, and flat out dangerous it might be, he'd learned long ago it was anger for him, not against.

>>52760960
"Commander, I can handle this mission. As you said, ma'am, it's not that difficult."

Her eyes flashed and for a moment he thought fire. "I said the danger isn't as high as it could be. I never said it wouldn't be a difficult mission," she snapped. She scowled fiercely at him and he was glad her physician could either undo or hide wrinkles.

"I understand the risks. I will complete this mission as you specified. I will not cause you to feel your trust has been misplaced." He now allowed himself to stand even more at attention, with his back as straight as it could go and his eyes staring straight into his commander's without wavering.

She stared back at him for a long stretch. Her deceptively beautiful face looked like nothing more than a shallow mask covering a grief-hardened, battle-sharpened soul, reminding him that this woman had been fighting in wars over a decade before he was born.

Then the warrior disappeared and the tired old lady with a vice for alcohol was left behind.

"I see. There's nothing more to say then, soldier," she said as her face returned from its angry expression. "Dismissed."

He bowed, a respectful movement of the shoulders and head. He'd learned long ago that this woman above all others was worthy of his respect and loyalty.

For her, he would die.

For her, he would kill.

He stepped toward the door, only to pause as his sharp ears picked up the movement of air flowing across her lips as she inhaled.

"One last thing, soldier. You're to come back alive."

He stood with his back towards her for a long moment.

"This mission is exceptionally important, but your life has more value. The rest is expendable if the situation escalates beyond your control."

He remained still.

"Understand?" Steel laced her honey-husky voice.

He turned his head ninety degrees to the left. In one short, but unhurried movement, he nodded. Then he turned and strode past the chipped doors.

For her, he would live.

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Bump for ants

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Bump not for ants

>>52770004

>Oh by Bahamut this is so awkward, I can't do that, I'm not some sort of wish dragon, I'm just a sage...

>Oh great, now they're getting the child to ask me herself, that's just perfect.

>How did they even get the impression I can bring people back to life? It's always been perfectly clear, bring the summoning orbs together and I'll appear to answer any questions you pose to the best of my ability using the immortal knowledge of the great library. How did they manage to collect all seven without understanding that?

>No, no, don't explain what happened to them, I don't care, I don't want to hear about that.

>And now she's crying, perfect.

>Seriously, who brings a child to something like this? That's just not fair, she can't be more than seven.

>Do they think I can just will people back to life like some sort of god? Well, they must, if they're asking like this. Some sort of myth must have developed since the last time I was summoned. After all, the median human lifespan is only fifty years, and they were asking some very warlike questions last time... I'm going to have to write a whole new set of instructions, assuming they can still read draconic.

>Orrrr speak it.

"Shilta wux renthisj Vs'shtak?"

>Hmm, I'll take that as a no. And none of them seem to be capable of receiving mental communications either. Perfect, just perfect, why does this sort of thing have to happen to me?

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>>52771474

>No dammit, don't bring the kid back out, this charade has gone on long enough. Maybe I can try speaking their language, it can't be that hard. I'll start with something simple, like telling them I can't grant wishes, and then we can work up to what the orbs are actually for.

"Your... wish... has... been... granted."

>Wait, that didn't sound right... Why are they looking at me like that? Did I mess that up? Oh by Bahamut, what did I say to them? Oh no, no, no.... how am I ever going to explain this? I feel like I'm going to die of embarrassment.

>Maybe I should just leave before this gets any worse, I can send a messenger with an apology later, or just disable the orbs for a few hundred years, or-

>And here come the tears again, why did they have to bring her? I'm a scholar dammit, I deal with deep philosophical questions, not crying children. I'm not going to be able to sleep for a decade after this. Maybe I can cast an illusion, or a mental suggestion, or something else to make her happy or maybe... if these mortals operate on a planar lifecycle...

>Hmmm, that might actually work... I can just take the girl's astral signature, nip over to whichever plane her parents wound up in, promise a few favors, and bring them back as extra-planar entities. They won't be able to tell the difference, and I doubt they'd even care if they could.

>Yeah, it's the perfect solution! It shouldn't cost me too much, and it'll just be this once, and then once everyone is calmed down I can explain how everything is actually supposed to work and I'll never have to deal with this sort of wish-dragon thing again...

>>52771645

With audio:
http://alexanderlozada.com/iasip/?IlNoZW5yb24gQmVjb21lcyB0aGUgV2lzaCBEcmFnb24i

>>52747368
>>52747404

Well I gonna give it a try....Maybe I will make two stories from my original idea

Now the tale:

The day was nearing it's end as sun was almost hidden behind the horizonte. The forest was getting quieter and quieter, but one sound didn't stop, sound of horses mixed with jangling of metal armor, as group of well armored knights moved along the narrow forest road.
The group the armored warriors had coats of arms of queen Silvija, first ruler of any kind to rise to power in this far off corner of the continent. And while her exploits were known to most folk, this appearance of her guard so far from the more vital parts of the region is somewhat unusual.
It too almost half a day for this group to reach there destination, from the nearest village, a moss covered stone by the side of a narrow forest track, with a slim figure on top of it. Pointed ear lass had to be a teen, yet it seemed she was on they looked for.
As the knights stopped, she put down the knife and boar tusk she held and turned her attention to the armored folk "If you are here for that missing trader, I told the guards I have nohing to do with it" she was obviously slightly annoyed and scared.
"We are not here for such simple problems" one of the knights replied as her horse got closer to the elf
"Are you the guardian of the Cursed Forest of Life?" knight looked at the young woman in fur clothes
"No, but I could call him for you" elf replied, hiding the knife and walking off into the forest. She climbed up a bit and shouted "Hey Zaltis, some soldiers are searching for you"
"How many times do I need to tell you!" male voice came out from the forest "I have nothing to do with those disappearances...." Bearded man then stopped as he saw queen's guards "What are you girls doing here...so far away from the capital?"
"Because they are not there to guard the city" knight that stood by the rock, climbed off her horse and removed her helmet, revealing white long hair and a feminine face

>>52772852

Bearded man froze and turned white as paper. Then took a step back to stand next to the young elf "Did you hide the horses?" he whispered
"Yes, in the village. Why are you asking?" youngster replied
"Just making sure" bearded man replied as he slowly approached white haired woman "So, what is queen Silvija doing in my woods?"
"I want to ask you something, but before that...Will you invite us inside?" woman smiled "I remember you had a nice house here"

That is all for today...

>>52771474
>>52771645
I feel like this is referencing something that I am unaware of

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>>52773572
I assume it's a Dragonball Z reference, or more likely these days Dragonball Z Abridged one.

>>52773572
>>52773748
Well that, and Always Sunny In Philadelphia for the image.

Sorry, if it's a bit referential, I just started with the thought that the dragon looked fairly embarrassed and went at random.

>>52774751
>Sorry, if it's a bit referential,
No need to be apologetic. I'm sure it works for people who have watched Dragon Ball and Always Sunny, I just happen not to be one of them.

Although the problem now is that if I ever do start watching Always Sunny all I'll be able to think about is giant dragons.

>>52714409
Commissar Duvolt rubbed a sweaty hand on his uniform's pant leg, his nervousness taking control of his mannerisms. Despite his training , he had yet to master the stony facade that his fellows had mastered, and he was sure the troops were talking about him behind his back. A quivering commissar was quite a sight, and as he made his way through the base he could hear some Catachans snickering at him, their heavily muscled frames bent to conceal their mirth as they watched their officer walk up to the gate. Duvolt ignored them, taking a deep breath to regain what little composure he had before walking up to the sentry on duty. The guardsman, a Cadian if the symbols on his shoulder pad were what Duvolt thought they were, immediately came to attention.
"Afternoon Commissar," the man said respectfully. "Do you wish to exit the compound?" Duvolt's throat tightened, his nerves nearly getting the better of him.
"Ah... yes," Duvolt replied. "I -ahem- do indeed wish to, uh, leave."
"Very good sir," said the Cadian. "May I see your identification card sir?"
Duvolt's blood ran cold. "Iden-identification card?" He frantically patted down his long coat, searching his pockets and coming up blank. He had barely walked five meters and his plan was falling apart.
"Yes sir, all personnel must present proper identification."
"But... I'm a Commissar," Duvolt countered weakly.
"Yes sir," the Cadian acknowledged with a nod. "But orders are to inspect every departee's identification cards." The commissar cursed his bad luck. Cadians were professionals, forever and always, and this man would not let him through. He had just been told (politely) to go frak himself.

>>52781854
"I, uh, I see." Duvolt clapped his hands together. "Whelp, I'm just gonna head on back and, uh, get my identification card then."
"Very good sir," the Cadian replied, snapping a crisp salute. Duvolt sent another back with a shaking hand. The two men stared at each other before Duvolt turned on a heel and headed back the way he came. Who knew committing heresy could be so difficult?

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>>52783962
Bump with images! Contribute!

>>52748508
Well like I said. I would be doing something short for >>52714409

-Well here it goes:

-------------

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

Today is a bright and sunny, yet cool day, as a half elf child was going out to either play in the front lawn of her home or take a walk with her pet crabworm by her side.

"Mom, dad! I'm gonna head outside!" the half-elf girl named Halanis said out loud to her parents.

"Alright sweetie, don't be out for too long. So come back before ten its ten in the morning. It'll get hot at that time till three, so you got two and a half hours left!" Her human dad replied out loud.

"Okay dad!" She said as she opened the door, waited for her pet crabworm to come along with her and once ger pet crabworm; Snickers, was out with her. She closed the door shut.

"Where is Halanis going out to George?" Halanis' elven mother asked her human husband.

"Oh just heading out for a walk around their neighborhood. And maybe passing by one of the other nearby subdivisions." Answered the human father. "So whatcha watching Elasha?" George the human father and husband asked his elven wife.

"The local news and apparently it says some minor nobleboy from a foreign land's gonna move in here. In this city."

"Really? An aristo's child is gonna live here?"

"I guess so, I wonder where though? And when he and his associate's gonna be arriving-"

As Elasha was speaking on, the local news channel made a recent update as the screen now instantly switched to a journalist in a news-copter.

"We are now seeing the limousine carrying the nephew of a Duke from the country of Plovania heading to a suburbian neighborhood. It is most likely that this Plovanian nobleboy will be residing in a house within this residential district."

Then another news anchor was showed in the screen. "Has there been any further developments or details as to why a Plovanian noble has decided to have their child or relative moved into this country?"

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>>52784901
sorry, I was posting from my phone

I've been returning to this one occasionally, and would appreciate some feedback on it. Story from my dirty dozen merc group.

Not sure if i'm using too many characters and muddying it up, or if it feels too deliberately comedic.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1dMoM8bgGQ-3MPvZyMnmr3Ve0nHEAzAmVasb-ls49aDA/edit?usp=sharing

>>52788252
Pretty good, actually. Don't often see writefags who can make their dialogue sound natural and still be interesting.

Still, it would be a lot easier to read if you put a full line space between each paragraph.

>>52721124

'Lady Eleanor!'

Someone was calling for her.

'Lady Eleanor?'

Hardly surprising they couldn't find her. Half the village was a burnt out ruin, and the other half was almost invisible through the disordered sea of tents. Unsurprisingly, no one had the energy to organise the encampment process.

'Lady Eleanor of Castell?!'

Lady Eleanor of House Castell. She could remember so clearly the day those words were called out on the parade ground. The moment she had stepped forward, under the gaze of her liege the Duke of Forrell, and presented her arms for service. She'd been sweltering under the equally unforgiving glare of the noonday sun, but she'd barely noticed the heat.

Nor had she paid much attention to the way every other helmet on the parade ground turned fractionally toward her as she made her oath. Or the trace of uncertainty in their voices as they gave her the traditional cheer, as if they weren't quite sure it wasn't some elaborate joke.

She'd noticed, but she hadn't cared. It wasn't important, not on that day - not on that day that she'd been waiting for for practically all her life. When Duke Forrell accepted her service, she thought she would burst with pride.

She was fairly sure Duke Forrell was dead now. That flank had been totally overrun, and she'd seen the Duke's banner fall. If not dead, then certainly captured. And a good portion of the knights who'd stood on the parade ground with her that day had fallen with him, barely a few hours ago.

She didn't feel like bursting with anything now. In fact, she felt hollowed out, empty.

She could hear a conversation going on some way behind her, just loud enough to be audible over the muted hubbub of the camp. She didn't bother to turn her head.

'Excuse me sir, have you seen Lady Eleanor of Castell?'

>>52793585

'The Lady knight you mean?' Whoever the speaker was, he was too tired to put much derision into those words. She caught it nevertheless; she'd heard it enough times to recognise it, after all.

'Yes sir, the very same.' said the first speaker earnestly. 'Have you seen her?'

'No.'

'Are you sure, sir? I was told she'd come this way...'

'I haven't seen her you pig-brained yokel. I think I'd remember if I'd seen a woman wearing armour. Get out of my way before I beat some sense into you.'

That was a little harsh, thought Eleanor. The speaker calling for her certainly didn't sound like a pig-brained yokel. In fact, his speech was courtly, his voice high, almost womanly. Probably a squire, a boy, sent by someone to find her.

She'd had a squire. Philippe. He was a good squire, so bright, so eager. He'd been by her side nearly every day since he'd come to her father's castle to train in the knightly arts. He'd been seven when he was sent to them, and she twelve. Nearly every day since they had trained together.

She'd lost him three weeks back. As they encamped at Arrepont. The fever had come upon him suddenly, he'd spent three days shitting blood, and then he'd died. She'd sat in the tent and listened to him whisper, weakly. Sometimes he asked for his sword, because he thought he was late for practice. Sometimes he asked for his mother. He'd cried out in pain as one of the camp women bathed him, and Eleanor had tried to lift his spirits with tales of glorious battles. But he only quieted when the woman bathing him stroked his hair with a damp, cooling hand, and sung to him like he was her babe.

>>52793614

Eleanor could have bathed him. Could have comforted him. She told herself that she didn't because it wouldn't have been in keeping with her station as a knight. She had enough trouble reminding everyone that she was a knight first and a woman second, let alone if she started doing the work of a nursemaid. Which was selfish enough in itself, but the truth was that she was terrified of touching him, terrified of catching his fever. Terrified of shitting herself to death, too weak to hold her sword, crying out for her mother.

He was only fourteen. He'd been as healthy as anyone just three days earlier.

Philippe had died, and it had terrified her.

Then he'd been tossed in a pit with the dozens of others who'd gone the same way, and the army had moved on.

'Lady Eleanor!' the searcher called again, still some way away from her. Her eyes remained fixed blankly on a patch of mud about two paces in front of her. 'Lady Eleanor!'

Whoever he was, he was persistent, she'd give him that. She supposed she should answer him. That would be the dutiful thing to do after all - to come when you were called.

The House of Castell always came when they were called. Every time. Her father had worked very thoroughly over the years to impress that upon her.

They were not a powerful house. They were not a rich house. But not once for seven generations had the House of Castell failed to provide one of their blood to bear arms when their lord called his vassals to war. There had been someone bearing the name Castell in every major battle the Duchy of Forrell, and for that matter the Kingdom of Lacarnia, had fought in the past two-hundred years.

Which might have something to do with the fact that there were so few of them left.

>>52793636

This was an insight that had only come to Eleanor very recently, however. Growing up, when she thought of her uncles Henri and Guillaume, she thought only of the honour their heroic sacrifices had brought to the family. For their sake, and the sake of every other Castell who had given their lives over the centuries, they must carry on, and do their utmost to uphold the honour of the family.

She was going to die for that honour. She was going to die, and her body was going to be tossed into a corpse pit, or just left to rot on the battlefield. And that would be it for her, and for House Castell. No one would remember her honour, much less care. Maybe for a few more years the peasants back on the family estates would raise an occasional toast to the name of Castell, but even if they did she wouldn't be there to appreciate the gesture.

She was going to die.

This too was an insight that had come to her very recently. This morning, in fact.

Not when she had run for her life, as her unit broke around her. There was no time for fear, then. When it came down to run or die, she hadn't felt anything except the purely physical sensation of her heart beating like the pounding hooves of a charging horse. And when she'd stopped, at the top of the hill, having outdistanced her pursuers... it was actually exhilarating. As if you somehow beat the enemy by getting away from them.

Not when Duke Forrell had fallen. She was too flush with relief at that point. Atop that hill she'd been in a prime position to see the enemy heavy cavalry slam into the Duke's position, long lances and heavy chargers shattering the Duke's infantry formation. It hadn't dampened her exhilaration at all. All the frothing horses, all the mud-stained armour, all the gleaming weapons, all the blood... it all looked so far away. Although somewhere under the manic joy there was a part of her that wanted to throw up as she watched her comrades ridden down by the Ven-tan knights.

>>52793660

It was when that blond, axe-wielding whoreson Sir Gui de la Gascorien had rallied the survivors of her unit that the realisation stole upon her. As duty wrestled internally with the part of her that cried: Again?! How can we go back into THAT?!, a third thought had stolen into her mind:

Why not? What difference does it make? Today, tomorrow... you're going to die. You are going to die, if not on this muddy, blood-soaked field, than the next one, or the one after that at the latest. It's a miracle you made it this far.

She tried to fight back, just as she'd been fighting against that insidious voice for weeks. But the steel-hard pride that had got her through life so far was starting to tarnish, while the voice was getting ever more insistent. It had started quietly, barely more than a whisper, but it been growing louder and louder until she could barely block it out without the help of alcohol.

Standing at the top of that hill, she had never been more sober in her life. She had no choice but to listen to the voice:

Why not you? Philippe died, without ever seeing the battle he'd been training for his whole life. Why not you? Don't say it can't end so pointlessly, because it can, you've seen it.

It could. It did. She couldn't deny it.

Why not you? Dorrien died, in combat, sword in hand. Don't say you're too good a fighter to fall to the Ven-Tan, because Dorrien was better than you'll ever be, and they cut him down anyway. You remember Dorrien, don't you?

>>52793668

She did remember. Dorrien of House Naverre. Eleanor remembered alright. For about a month he'd been all she could think about. He was so brave, the very model of a knight. And so courteous to her, when most of her fellow knights at best awkwardly avoided her company. She'd had thoughts about him so secret that she was surprised even the insidious little voice inside her knew about them. He was so handsome, with his strong jaw and raven-black hair. Not to mention the fact that he was the best swordsman she'd ever seen.

He'd been killed storming the walls of some insignificant little town that happened to lay along their supply lines. She hadn't seen how he died, although she had seen Dorrien once after that, chalk white, with a gaping wound in his throat. Even dead, he was so handsome. Even seeing him lying there like that, she couldn't quite believe he was dead. She kept expecting him to sit up, and call for medic to come see to the scratch on his neck.

He hadn't. He'd gone in the pit with all the others. She remembered that. She'd never forget it.

Why not you? Because fortune loves you? How blessed with divine favour can House Castell be if it's relying on you? Did fortune smile on Uncle Henri, or Uncle Guillaume? Why not you?

Uncle Henri and Uncle Guillaume. In her mind, they had always been the proud, manly figures that stared down at her as a child from their portraits in the Long Hall. But they had been no older than she was now when they died. Barely more than boys, they had both died in their first campaigns.

Why not her?

You can only argue with yourself for so long. There was no reason why it shouldn't be her, and every reason why it should.

She was going to die.

>>52789895
Didn't check it's layout on docs, thanks for that, will make it easier.

Anything/anyone particular you like? Trying to go for the adventuring party feel, but not be video gamey about it.

I need a good writers advice on how to write sex scenes well. They either come out exploitative or silly, and there seems to be no decent middle ground. I don't want to fade to black because the scene is important, but how do you do things half decently?

>>52794322
Why not? Just imply it. There's no real tasteful way of writing dicks going in vaginas. If you need to, though, just make sure not to go overboard on the descriptions and metaphors.

File: Hot tips for the new horny writer.png (91KB, 1319x424px) Image search: [Google]

91KB, 1319x424px

>>52794322
From a gay board but I think it's good advice.

File: 1409034413020.jpg (871KB, 1200x864px) Image search: [Google]

871KB, 1200x864px

>>52794322
honestly, I don't think there are any hard and fast rules (no pun intended). Just write it how you feel it should be written, and then ask for feedback. Eventually you'll end up with something not too cringey.

picture unrelated. hopefully

>>52793677

A few hours ago, she had marched down that hill behind Gui de la Gascorien not sure whether to laugh or cry. It was like getting the punchline to a joke ten minutes after everyone else. Of course she was going to die if she went into battle. It was just common sense. That was why women didn't become knights. She had trained since she was barely old enough to hold a weapon, with a lot more dedication and determination than most, and on the practice ground her skills barely put her in the top third. And that included every back-country farm boy with just enough nobility in their blood to call themselves a knight, who mostly could barely afford their arms, let alone devote much time to training with them.

When it came to actual battle, slogging through the mud in heavy armour and beating your opponent down with simple brute force more often than not... well, she thought it entirely possible that in the last several months of campaigning she had never actually killed a single one of the enemy.

It wasn't as if enough people hadn't told her. Her heritage and her father's opinion on the matter might have made them a little more polite about it than they'd have otherwise been, but they hadn't held back from telling her women couldn't fight. And in her arrogance, she'd believed that it was the entire rest of the world that was wrong. That it would simply be all the sweeter when she showed them what she could do.

>>52795910

Mostly it seemed like what she could do was be unreasonably lucky. She had gone back into the melee behind that mad axe-wielding bastard and barely landed a single blow. Her crowning achievement of the battle was when she'd smashed her sword against some Van-tan's helmet, denting it slightly and causing him to drop his mace - but not with enough force to knock him out. He'd promptly backhanded her into the mud, only to be skewered by a random halberd before he could find a weapon and finish her. How much longer could she expect to be lucky? By definition, not long.

After that, with the battle nearly won (somehow), she hadn't even been able to push her way to the front of the crush as her fellow knights competed eagerly to bag the best captives for ransom. When the enemy broke into a route she'd barely had the strength to keep standing in her heavy plate amour, let alone pursue with the rest of her brother knights. She'd found the nearest wounded man still on his feet, and walked him off the battlefield half supporting him, half using him as a crutch. No one could say that aiding the wounded before chasing prize money wasn't virtuous, especially if they didn't see her collapse with exhaustion behind the medical tent after she'd delivered her charge.

After that, she'd just wandered for a bit until she found a place to sit that seemed as good as any. So now here she was, sitting by burnt out ruins that presumably used to be someone's home, listening to someone's squire calling for her, and asking herself: what the hell am I doing here?

Six months ago she'd been sure - so very sure - that this was what she wanted, to the point where anything else was unthinkable. Her life had had a plan, which had been laid out for her since she was four years old.

>>52795920

Somewhere in the distance she could hear someone screaming. The hospitals were always kept right at the edges of the camp, for obvious reasons. Whoever was screaming that throaty, lung-breaking scream was putting some effort into it if he could be heard all the way over here. He was probably getting a leg amputated, or an arm. Maybe both. Either way, he probably wouldn't survive. Eleanor wondered if his life had had a plan too.

Eleanor wondered if her life still had a plan. Not so long ago it had all seemed so simple: she would fight on campaign for a year or two, and bring honour to herself and the family name. That way, when she found a suitably valorous husband from among the ranks of the knights she would fight alongside, instead of becoming a mere appendage to him she would have the leverage necessary to retain her lands and title in her own name.

Then, once married, she would settle down to a more traditional role as a wife and mother, and one of her sons - of which there would be many - would take the name Castell and the lands to go with it. Not the eldest, who would obviously inherit his father's name and property, but one of her younger sons who might otherwise have headed for the civil service or the clergy (heaven forbid). Thus House Castell would live on.

And her father would rest easy in his grave.

>>52795931

In Eleanor's young mind, the only potential flaw that had ever bothered her about that plan was that instead of just a year or two of fighting, why not three, or even four? Obviously she would have to stop at some point - after all, the entire goal was for her to have sons to bestow House Castell upon, and even she didn't think she could keep fighting with a babe in her belly. But delaying an extra year or two would hardly leave her an old maid, and if a little glory would help her position, why not gain a little more to make it a sure thing? After all, having trained so hard, having honed her skills to what she'd thought was a razor's edge, it would be a waste to not use them.

She was noticing other flaws with the plan now, first and foremost that it really all hinged on her staying alive.

What was she doing here, surrounded by mud and ashes and screaming, shitting, bleeding men? What was family honour really, when you got right down to it? She was starting to question why she should care about the reputation of people who'd been dead for years, if not centuries. She was going to die, and disappoint them all anyway.

If she'd just had the sense to do what every other girl did she could be at home right now, lying in bed on fine woollen sheets instead of sitting on this lumpy, charred piece of fallen roof-timber. And the most that would ever be expected of her was that she would stay lying on those sheets and let her husband rut his offspring into her when he got back from doing all those brave and heroic things everyone said men did when they went off to war. Best of all, perhaps, she would still believe all those stories.

>>52795945

Why was she here? The wind gusted suddenly from behind her and blew smoke into her long, sunset-orange hair. Her crystal-blue eyes watered for a moment as the smoke stung them. She couldn't be bothered to reach up and dry her eyes, and her trickling tears wiped clean little streaks on her grime-stained cheeks. If the men around her thought she wept because she was a weak woman, so be it. Because it wasn't entirely the smoke that was making her cry anyway. She was a weak woman, and there was no point in denying it any more.

Why was she here?

The answer was simple enough, actually: because she was the only one left.

Her father hadn't had many other options.

Eleanor's father had been a great soldier. He'd fought so well for so long that he was talked of even in the royal court. A knight's knight, a man who matched peerless martial skill with uncommon virtue and grace. A man whose family could be proud of him.

What family, though? Having spent the prime of his life in the service of his lord and his land, by the time age forced him from the battlefield he had no family left.

He'd blamed himself. Eleanor had realised this three years ago, at his funeral, as the priest spoke of guilt and absolution. Blamed himself for not getting married sooner, while he was still young. He'd spent most of his youth off on campaign somewhere, but still, he could have made the time, in the sporadic weeks and months he spent at home. Other knights had families they barely saw for years at a time, it wasn't as if it couldn't be done. And if he'd got married in his twenties like most men he'd have had no shortage of children to carry on his line.

>>52795967

Instead he ended up a forty-five year old man marrying someone thirty years his junior. Eleanor's mother, Isabelle. He blamed himself for what happened to her as well, and their son who had never quite been born. Irrationally, of course. But it had taken three years of marriage for Isabelle to fall pregnant with Eleanor, and another four for her second pregnancy. In such cases - a young, fit woman with a much older man - wasn't it natural to start wondering if perhaps the seed was weak? If perhaps it was some deformity caused by this weakness that had killed both his child and his child's mother together?

Eleanor had never thought this. Even when she grew old enough to notice the whispered, oblique references that the adults around her thought she was still too young to understand, she refused to consider it. Her father, right up until the end, was the strongest person she knew. And she, his daughter, was strong as well. There was no weakness there.

But still, whatever the cause, his wife had died. So young, so beautiful and loved, and marrying him had ended in her death. That had left him with only one child, a girl. There was no question that he might remarry - not after what he had done to his beloved Isabelle.

House Castell, and all its fine traditions, would end with Eduard Castell. Last of his name, last of his line.

When you sit there staring into the abyss, you start to consider things that would have been unthinkable just a short while before. Eleanor was finally starting to understand that now.

The only tiny glimmer of hope Eleanor's father had had left was a little flame-haired blur that seemed to take up most of the castle below waist height. A child who, in the absence of her mother, ran wild as any of the boys.

>>52795985

It had seemed natural to Eleanor, at first, that as the boys her age started their education in the skills they would need for the battlefield she should learn alongside them. It must have been a relief to her father to see how readily she took to swordplay. How eager she was to justify his decision to train her as a knight and send her into a life he knew the realities of better than most.

He'd spent so much time with her, pushing her, judging her, helping her, honing her. As a child, Eleanor had probably spent more time with her father than any girl in the kingdom, and she loved every minute of it. Her father, the great hero of Lacarnia, was training her to be his successor. Her father, the person she loved most in all the world, would spend hours every day with her instead of riding out hunting or staying in drinking.

He must have thought that if he could give her every scrap of battlefield wisdom, every last piece of skill, every trick he knew, then she might just stand a chance. After all, he had been a great warrior - it was easy to believe that his offspring, female or not, would still be better than most. Good enough to survive, at any rate.

But skill and training couldn't make up for the fact that she had shorter reach, weaker muscles, and less body-weight to throw around. As a child she'd been half-a-head taller than most of the boys her age. She'd certainly been able to knock them about on the training ground. But that advantage hadn't lasted.

>>52796000

Although she'd spent the last few years telling herself that being outmatched physically was a good thing - that it forced her to hone her skills much more than an ordinary knight - the truth was that if she'd had a wider pool of training partners to spar with she probably wouldn't have been continued to shine on the practice ground. Her father had never let her go to tourneys, and she'd been limited to the boys who were sent to her father to be trained; not a bad crop, but there were only ever a handful of them.

Her father had forbid her from entering tourneys on the grounds that it could only end badly. Sending a woman against the Ven-tan or the Bielizhk was one thing - the arrogant bastards could do with a little humbling, after all - but humiliating one of her own countrymen by making him lose to a woman was another matter entirely. Either she'd lose herself, or she'd create enemies where she most needed friends. She'd seen the logic in it, even if she'd chafed under the unfairness of it.

Perhaps Eleanor's father had been entirely forthright with his reasoning. Then again, perhaps he'd known, deep-down, what was likely to happen. Perhaps he'd just wanted to prolong the illusion that he was doing the right thing for as long as possible.

But perhaps he'd believed in her every bit as much as he'd led her to think - every bit as much as Eleanor herself. Perhaps he'd died with the hope that the name of Castell - his name, his brothers' name, the last piece of them left in the world - truly would live on in her. He knew the Duchy would let her fight, for he'd called in every favour he had, begged his friends on his deathbed to see that Eleanor was given her due. He died knowing that she would be a knight... it would just be up to her to prove herself worthy of it.

Back then, at her father's graveside, sixteen-year-old Eleanor had made a solemn vow to restore her family's honour or die trying.

>>52796014

It had never even occurred to her that she might fail to uphold that oath. At worst, she might die. That was an abstract thought to her then, but she was aware that it was at least technically possible even if she never really believed it could happen. But it never even crossed her mind that she might just not want to do it anymore.

'Lady Eleanor!'

She jumped a little. He was getting closer, whoever he was. He'd probably spot her in a minute - after all, as the other knight had said, it was hardly as if there were any other women wearing armour around here.

She wondered what he wanted. She couldn't imagine someone actually had a use for her, since most of her brothers-in-arms had worked out long before she had that, militarily speaking, she was dead weight. Figuratively and soon to be literally.

Maybe he was coming to deliver an invitation to spend the night in some nobleman's tent. It wouldn't be the first one. Previously she'd barely stopped short of calling out her prospective suitors; the only reason she hadn't was that a duel would have drawn attention, and the last thing she wanted was to remind everyone of her peculiar situation as a female knight. Now... maybe she'd take him up on it. It might even offer her a way out - pledge of service or no, no one would expect a pregnant woman to fight. Perhaps the disgrace of being a whore would be slightly less than the disgrace of being a coward.

The whores. Eleanor had always looked down on them. Most of the women around the camp engaged in prostitution, either as a sideline after things like cooking, cleaning, and looting the dead, or as their main profession. She'd despised and resented them, since they were the typical image people had of women in the camp and Eleanor was tainted by association.

>>52796034

Now she was starting to think that maybe they were the smart ones. All they had to do was lie back and collect the money at the end. They didn't have to die. Maybe Eleanor should join them. All the best knights in the camp, well muscled and sweating from their day's training, would line up by her tent to practice their swordplay on her. Maybe she could live with that. A mental image stole uninvited into her mind: a tall knight heaving his naked body of her panting form, slipping his chainmail back on and leaving her for the next customer. He would leave her tent and go off into a battle and die and rot and she would still be alive, back in her tent groaning under some other knight. Maybe she could live with that. She could probably charge a premium for what she had between her legs. New stock, fine pedigree, never before used.

She was going to die a virgin. That hadn't bothered her before - in fact, it had been a point of pride that her virtue was intact. For some reason it had always been important to her that, should she fall on the field of battle, whoever prepared her for burial would be able to confirm that she was pure and unsullied before she was left to decay in the dirt. But now that she thought about it... it was bad enough to die, but worse still to have never really lived.

There was so much she was never going to get to do. So many experiences left to have, so much life left to live. But if nothing else she'd have liked to have a man inside her before she died, if only to confirm that it felt as good as she thought it did.

>>52796052

She wasn't a total stranger to the ways of men and women - when she'd been twelve or thirteen, and still a little wild, she'd experimented with a young stable boy. Just a little light touching, but it had felt so good. Right now she bitterly regretted not simply dragging him into the hayloft and having a tumble like she'd caught the kitchen maid doing with the farrier's apprentice. Only the thought of what her father would say - of the dishonour it would bring - had stopped her.

Too late now. Too late for a lot of things. It was all so unfair. Why couldn't she have been a kitchen maid? Why couldn't she have been a stable boy? Why couldn't she have been anything but what she was?

Why couldn't her father have just let her be an ordinary noblewoman? Why couldn't she just have been married off at fifteen to an ageing knight to tend his hearth and have his babies? Right now her belly should be swelling with some future hero of Lacarnia.

Eleanor's stomach lurched at the idea.

No. Not that. The thought of it sent a chill down her spine.

Not the thought of marrying an older man. Truth be told there was plenty of room in Eleanor's fantasies for older, fatherly men. It was the idea of some alien creature inside her belly, squirming and kicking, ready to tear its way out of her, that scared her worse than any battle.

Eleanor had had nightmares for as long as she could remember about something inside of her, trying to get out. It always started the same, in her dream: she would be doing something perfectly ordinary, and then without blood would begin gushing from between her legs. Then she'd be gripped by agonising pain, and then her lower body would be ripped in two as a mewling, screaming baby tore its way out of her.

>>52796068

All those years growing up she had never been scared of the thought of going to war, but she had been terrified by pregnancy. She remembered when she was seven the castle cook - a kindly woman who always snuck her treats - had become pregnant with her fourth child, and Eleanor had wept and wept because she thought her friend was going to die. The cook had of course produced a baby ever bit as easily as she had the previous three.

It wasn't hard to see where this fear had come from, now that she thought about it. She didn't remember being told about her mother's death - in fact, she didn't remember anything from when she was that age - but someone must have told her, or she must have overheard it.

Even though she'd never questioned the idea that she should get married one day and have children, whenever she thought about it it was always something that would happen in the far, far future. Truth be told, when she had thought about modifying her father's plan and continuing to fight for a year or two more than necessary, hadn't it been as much about her reluctance to face pregnancy as a desire to use her skills?

Eleanor reflected on this as she sat there amidst the embers. She turned her helmet over in her hands and stared into the blank eyes. Her distorted reflection was visible in the dirt-stained metal. Which one was she, the hard, expressionless knight, or the blue-eyed little girl staring back at her from the steel?

Had she become a warrior because she was too afraid to be a woman?

How was that for irony? All around the camp there were women with babes at their breast, who had given birth safely even whilst traipsing through a warzone. Had Eleanor really so determinedly sought a life on the battlefield that was soon going to kill her, just because she was too much of a coward to face something which most women got through with nothing more than a few hours of pain?

>>52796084

Her overreaching pride in her skill at arms. Her love for her father and his honour. Her unspoken fear of childbirth.

Whatever the reason, she was going to die. What did any of it matter now?

The helmet began to slip from her hands.

'Lady Eleanor of Castell!' said an excited voice in front of her. She almost jumped out of her skin, but managed to stop herself with her last remaining reserves of self-control. Her fingers gripped her helmet tightly.

She looked up, coolly running her ice-blue eyes over the boy standing in front of her. He looked about thirteen years old. He also looked nervous. He couldn't actually be intimidated by her, could he?

'Yes?' Eleanor answered with as much authority as she could muster.

'I'm sorry, I'm not interrupting you am I, my Lady? Only you weren't by your tent and I didn't know if...' the boy babbled on. He actually is afraid of me, Eleanor realised. Or at least, he's intimidated by knights in plate armour. He can't see me for what I really am.

She cut off his nervous stuttering. 'You have a message for me, I take it?' she said flatly.

'Yes, my Lady. My Lord Viscount Paulus of the noble house of Haincourt requests your presence.' That was Duke Forrell's nephew, and undoubtedly the most senior of the Duke's relatives left with the army.

'He's taking control of the Duchy of Forrell's forces then?' asked Eleanor, resignedly. Such forces as were left, she mentally added.

'Yes, my Lady. And he's holding audience with the most senior knights of the Duchy still, uh, still present. My Lady.' the boy stuttered.

They had suffered badly indeed if that included her, Eleanor thought.

>>52796097

She could just walk away, and risk being executed as a deserter. Or she could go to Viscount Paulus now and throw herself on his mercy, explain that she had realised that a female knight made a mockery of the Duchy's proud military traditions and that he should send her home in disgrace. She could offer him her lands, her body, if he'd just let her go home. Otherwise he was going to ask her - order her - to fight more battles. More muddy, stinking, wretched, bloody battles.

She didn't want to die.

But there was no way out. Everything she could think of to get herself sent home - it was all just fantasy. The Viscount had no need of anything she could bribe him with. If she debased herself in front of him he was more likely to put her right at the front of the line as a punishment than take pity. For a knight who had sworn sacred oaths of service - even a female one - to act in such a way was unthinkable, disgusting.

She had got herself into this, and now there was no way out.

She was going to die. No matter how many times she turned it over in her mind, the horror didn't lessen. It was like droplets of icewater trickling across her soul.

'Lead the way.' Eleanor. She got up, forcing a smile. As she stood, it seemed like there was something very heavy knotted up in her guts.

The squire made quick bow. 'If you would follow me, my lady. Lord Paulus will be most pleased that I've found you. So many of our knights, if not lost to the enemy, have been scattered far about the field.'

'I'm sorry I didn't answer you sooner.' Eleanor said more conversationally, hoping to put the boy at ease. 'I heard someone calling for me, but I was meditating on the morning's deeds.' It was half true. 'I should have called out rather than leave you searching for so long.'

'My lady?' the squire said, seeming confused. 'T'was but a minute or two for me to find you.'

>>52796110

Eleanor realised he wasn't just being polite. It seemed like she'd spent an eternity sitting by the ruins of that house, but it was in reality only a few minutes. It was as if she was trying to cling on to every last second of life she had left.

The squire set off through the crowded encampment. It was such a simple thing, but she was terrified of following him.

She was so scared. She didn't want to die.

Her mind was numb with fear, but her body was still capable of going through the motions by itself. Barely missing a step, Eleanor of House Castell followed after the boy.


--- The End ---

>>52785031
The news anchor in the news copter flying over a residential area replied. "So far we have been told by municipality of this territory has said that the nobleboy from Plovania in question is a young man of the age of seventeen. It is also said the nobleboy is being moved in this here residential area to further studies and to also help expand international ties with Plovania and The Republic of Staoburg. And as you can see the three vehicle convoy, which is composed of two SUVs and the limo carrying the nobleboy, is about to enter one of the neighborhood blocks as seen below..." The journalist in the news-copter paused and looked to his side then faced back to the camera. "-Unfortunately we have to stop following this convoy, as according to the pilot we are running low on gas-"

Then Elasha widened her eyes as she leaned closer from the couch in the living room and looked closely to the screen of the TV. "Wait a minute doesn't that look like the very residential block WE live in???”

“…Yeah I think you’re right.” Said George as he also looked on the TV screen, but just as both George and Elasha were listening closely to the news they heard the sounds of vehicles stopping by in front of their house. George turned off the TV as Elasha quickly got to the front door as George followed. And when Elasha and George both got to the door to open it, they saw their half elf daughter Halanis with someone they never expected.

>just mere minutes ago, outside

Halanis was breathing in the fresh morning air, but something seemed odd. She noticed some neighbors outside staring to the right side of the road, she was about to ask some of the nearby neighbors but then quickly turned her head to the same direction everyone else seemed to be looking at and saw three vehicles incoming. Two SUV bearing flags and a limousine.

>>52795093
>>52794991
>>52794878
An excerpt from one scene after a bit of a rewrite.


Trick opened the door to Wilde's office, about to give him an earful, and immediately spun around, clamping a hand over her eyes.

The dark skinned elf she'd had words with earlier was straddling the boss, hair tossing this way and that. Her slender, taught body was naked of course, as was Wilde beneath her, as she bounced enthusiastically on him. She was perfect. Bitch.

Wilde's face peered around the moaning elf with an eyebrow raised.
"What is it girl? I'm...well I'm busy aren't I?"
Trick waved the question away without looking back.
"Just let me know when you're done, fuck!"

Trick went to the door, fumbled with Wilde's complicated lock mechanism with shaking hands. She gave a hiss of frustration and instead reached for her cigarettes, placing one to her mouth and lighting it on the candleflame that lit the room.

She listened to the two go at it, the elf's cries of pleasure making her teeth grind. She heard them moving, the sound of hungry kissing, sucking. She heard Wilde's final satisfied grunt. Bitch.

She turned to see the elf walking to her, looking smug. Her body glistened with sweat, perfect tits of course. Bitch.
When she caught Trick's eye she licked something from her lips. Semen.

"You can find your own way out." Trick snapped as the elf passed her, deft hands opening the lock effortlessly.
"Well aren't we just fucking perfect." Trick said aloud as the door closed, and turned to watch Wilde getting to his feet.
Trick let out a low whistle, watching as Wilde poured himself a drink to stand in front of her naked. She found herself gazing at his toned abdomen, strong arms, and the heavy cock that he made no effort to conceal from her, and mentally punched herself in the gut a few times.
"Put that thing away, I need to concentrate." She said, her cheeks flushing to red.

>>52798010
Three vehicles were now parked in front of the large villa that so happened to be just in front of the very house which Halanis and her parents lived in. The two flag bearing SUVs moved again, the one in the lead of the limo parked at the middle of the street, blocking two lanes as the second SUV also did the same from behind the limo, effectively blocking the street ehich the large empty villa and several houses including Halanis' were in.

This caused some of the neighbors and residents to whisper and talk quietly to each other in wondering who this very seemingly important person is, as the back passenger door of the limousine opened and out came a young man, or teenaged boy, dressed in a fancy and or formal dress uniform that was adorned in floral emblem pins. This teenage boy also wore a peaked cap along with hi uniform, his cap had what Halanis could tell, was a emblem that was two crossed roses surrounded by a wreath or a vine.

The regal and or important looking teen boy looked to his surroundings, looking at the on looking citizens, the general area he was in and then he noticed Halanis and looked onto her, which made Halanis quite cautious or suspicious. Halanis and this teen boy stared at each other for about two minutes till the teenaged boy gave off a smile and a light wave of a hand which slightly surprised Halanis, but gave a smile and waved back in return.

Then from the other side of the limo, out came another person, this time an older adult who was dressed in a business suit and then another adult; a woman holding a clipboard. And then the passenger doors of the two SUVs that were blocking both sides of the road opened out came some gruff looking security men who were wearing body armor. Then the older adult who came from the limo called for the teen boy by motioning his hand to come over.

>>52794322
>but how do you do things half decently?
I generally don't. What I can do however is refer to a guy who wrote the best sexual scenes I've ever read in any fiction. His name is John Fowles, and I'm in particular thinking of the (multiple) erotic scenes in a book called Magus. It's pretty hard to pinpoint what exactly makes them so god damn good though. He does not use metaphors, is very explicit and descriptive, yet he focuses on intimacy, often on light, touch, on small details that make the two characters important to each other. It's some good shit.

>>52800228
The important looking teen boy looked behind him and noticed the older adult man beckoning him to come over. Then turned back to Halanis and simply said as he raised his hand to his middle body. "Wait here, I'll be back." He said in his foregin accent as he jogged to where the older man and that business woman with the clipboard were.

Halanis had no clear idea as to who this young man is either that he is new to town and may be moving into town. Halanis' pet Crabworm Skittles made a squawk-like sound and some light clicks, speaking to its owner.

"Nope, I have no idea who that boy is Snickers... Though he looks pretty nice. Like what he's wearing too. And I wonder what he, that business lady and that older guy are talking about..."

Halanis just looked along with Snickers the Crabworm as the boy and the older man were conversing, both taking turns in conversing with the business woman aswell. The nearby residents just watched on and traded whispers and or spoke in hush tones on the sight of a very regal and rich looking boy.

However, as Halanis and some of the neighbors and residents looked on. Halanis’ parents, George and Elasha had a good idea on who this new potential neighbor may be. Both George and Elasha guessed this rich and noble looking aristo-boy was that Plovenian nobleboy or aristocrat who was said to be moving into this very neighborhood, according to the local news.

“You think that’s him? The boy who looked on to our little girl?” George asked.

“Well judging by the fact that those SUVs and that limo there are bearing the coat of arms of the aristocracy of Plovenia. Yes, most definitely. And I guess everyone’s as surprised to see that aristocrat boy arrive her at early this morning.

>>52799698
Got a few small edits:

Trick opened the door to Wilde's office about to give him an earful, and immediately spun around, clamping a hand over her eyes.

The dark skinned elf she'd had words with earlier was straddling the boss, hair tossing this way and that. Her slender, toned body was fully naked, as was Wilde beneath her, as she bounced enthusiastically on him. She was perfect. Bitch.

Wilde's face peered around the moaning elf with an eyebrow raised.

"What is it girl? I'm...well I'm busy aren't I?"

Trick waved the question away without looking back. "Just let me know when you're done, fuck!"

Trick went to the door and fumbled Wilde's complicated lock mechanism with shaking hands. She gave a hiss of frustration and instead reached for her cigarettes, lighting it on the candle that lit the room. She took a deep drag.

She listened to the two go at it, the elf's cries of pleasure making her teeth grind. She heard them moving, heard the disgustingly liquid sound of hungry, urgent kissing and sucking. She heard Wilde's final satisfied grunt. Bitch.

Trick turned to see the elf walking to her, looking smug. Her body glistened with sweat. Perfect tits of course. Bitch.

When she caught Trick's eye she licked something pearly-white from her lips.

"You can find your own way out." Trick snapped as the elf passed, those dark, deft hands opening the lock effortlessly. She waited a moment until the elf had left the room, then as the door closed said testily, "Well aren't we just fucking perfect." She turned to watch Wilde getting to his feet.

Trick let out a low whistle, watching as Wilde poured himself a drink. He stood there in front of her, naked and completely unconcerned by it. She found herself gazing at his toned abdomen, his strong arms, and the heavy cock that he made no effort to conceal from her.

She mentally punched herself in the gut a few times.

"Put that thing away, I need to concentrate." She said, her cheeks flushing to red.

>>52804641
Thank You sir or madam!

>>52807337
>sir or madam!
yeah, it's just me.

I wouldn't say the edit is perfect, but it's definitely getting there and it should at least give you a basis for comparison.

Most of the issues I tweaked were simple sentence structure fixes to make the prose flow more naturally. When it comes to pitching the tone of a sex scene you're more or less okay, although as you may have noticed I dialled it down just a touch (I removed 'taut' from the second line and the explicit mention of 'semen' later.)

Anyway, it'd be interesting to see if anyone else has any thoughts on it.

There are a decent number of sexually explicit stories on the Storythread wiki page incidentally, if you wanted to gather more of a feel for how to do a sex scene (or how not to do it, as the case may be)

>>52793585
On a not entirely unrelated note, I don't suppose anyone has any thoughts about my story here >>52793585

Anyone got any art?

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Not really related, but CAPTCHA: John FOOTBALL

Ah, screw it. Didn't have a story when I posted it, but that captcha made me think of one.
>>52816635
John was just a kid growing up in one of the less well-off parts of the city. He lived with his mother and little sister in a one-bedroom unit, the building one of those blocky monochrome apartment stacks that packed people tighter than sardines.

But even though his dad got killed in a traffic accident, even though his mother barely made enough to put food on the table, even though the air was more smog than oxygen in his part of the city, John kept smiling. He was the kind of guy who always smiled.

John loved and school. He wasn't the brightest student, but he had heart. He knew everyone's name on campus. Upper classmen, underclassmen, janitors, teachers, substitutes; they all knew John, and they all liked John. He was the friendliest person they knew, and was the star of the school's football team. Kid was a prodigy at the sport, and even had attracted some scouts — not for college teams, but for actual professional teams.

Yeah, that's right. Pro-level teams were already eyeing this high school sophomore.

I didn't know John. To me, he was just another body, another victim to the things that lurk in the dark.

I found him with his chest torn open his heart exposed. Next to him lay a mature thing's corpse, its head caved in and its blood on John's second-hand second-hand shoes. And not too far away from both was a crying little boy, clutching a football he'd accidentally kicked over the fence and gone to retrieve.

I didn't know John. But I know how much his sister and his mother cried when I told them the news. I know how everyone in the school mourned him for weeks. I know that when John died, when that creature no god ever created took his life, the whole world got a little darker.

Still out of pictures

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>>52796216

>>52799698
Actually really hot. But moreso because you know she's in love with her boss and having to watch him fuck other women. I like unrequited lust stories.

>>52808782
>I don't suppose anyone has any thoughts about my story
The internal monologue could have had a bit more rhytm. It got pretty heavy there towards the end. Perhaps you could punctuate it with some more descriptions about the camp and how chaotic it is after the battle? Those were really nice parts. Helped to drive home the blood, mud and cholera ridden environment. Then again, I've always been a sucker for gruesome realism and depictions of gritty details.

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>>52770004
>>52771474
>>52771645

Capped one for you Chronicler, since I wanted to share it and nobody reads crosslinks.

>>52824667
>The internal monologue could have had a bit more rhytm.
Yeah, I could feel it wasn't flowing well as I was writing it. I actually started writing it almost two weeks ago, but I kept stalling because I couldn't figure out how to get everything said that I wanted to say and stitch it all together properly. I mean, to a certain extent it was meant to be heavy, and get more so as the story goes on. Almost like she's getting sucked into dark pit of her own mind. But I was never entirely happy with how it balanced.

>Perhaps you could punctuate it with some more descriptions about the camp and how chaotic it is after the battle?
I didn't add more of that because I figured it would slow things down even more and just add extra length, but now that you mention it maybe that could have helped shore things up a bit.

Anyway, thanks for reading it.

>cholera ridden
Not that it really matters, but the history-autist in me forces me to say that cholera was unknown on medieval (and by extension pseudo-medieval) battlefields. It originated in India in the 16th century and only spread to Europe in the 19th century. Dysentery is probably what you were thinking of.

>>52824983
>Dysentery
You have dragged into the light my humiliating lack of knowledge on the history of intestinal infections. I hang my head in shame.

>>52825124
In those times, they would also refer to such intestinal diseases as 'flux'

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Slow couple of days this thread's been having. I really need to write something.

>>52821609
I feel the urge to write a companion-sorta piece to #580. Only now through the wolf girl's perspective.

Gather round, young ones. I have a tale I wish to tell you all.

Once, moons ago, there was a time when man lived in fear of the wolf. Compared to the simple power men had, the wolves were truly fearsome. The wolves often took what they wanted from men. Man fought back, as was expected, but each battle was costly for them.
Eventually, man’s power of creativity found use in inventing new weapons. They developed firearms which no longer required being so close to wolves to kill them. Overnight, the wolf’s position of power was lost, and they paid for their arrogance dearly. Soon it became the wolf’s turn to fear man and there was no way for a wolf to ever best man’s inventions.

For some reason though, men still feared wolves even though they found the power to remove them. They spared none that crossed their paths in fear of revenge. They began gating communities to keep the wolves outside and gated the minds of the young into their faith of fear. Nobody ever asked why they were still so afraid, so it continued thusly.
There was one woman I knew who did not fear the wolf, however. She was never so cruelly afraid of them and somehow learned something shocking: there were wolves who were willing to befriend humanity. Despite all odds, she fell in love with a wolf. They learned to communicate with each other and…I was born as the fruit of a forbidden union. After all, both sides still feared each other, and knowing that man and wolf could somehow consummate brought no joy or understanding, but hatred. Mankind hunted us down like wolves and my mother gave her life to protect me and my father. That night, we fled into the forest to find other wolves, a pack to protect us both.
As it turns out, wolves were just as capable of misunderstanding as men were. They too found the concept of a union between man and wolf abhorrent.

>>52801719
“Hang on Elasha, look. I think that boy is coming back.” George said as he notices the nobleboy exchanging a couple more words and conversation with the accompanying older man and the business woman. Both Elasha and George also noticed the nobleboy pointing at their daughter Halanis’ general direction and also saw the accompanying older man glance and give a nod to the nobleboy. At which the nobleboy is seen clasping and rubbing his hands as he could be seen at the other side of the limousine he rode in, getting something from the passenger’s side and whatever it was, he hid it behind his back as he seemingly walked back to where Halanis was at.

Two of the security escorts were about to walk along with the aristocrat boy but he simply told them to stay and not follow by raising his hand, motioning the guards to stay still as the aristo-boy continued on.

“George… He’s coming near our front lawn again, to our daughter.” Elasha said indicatively.

“Really?” Said George as both he and Elasha looked on what was going to happen while they were within the doorway of their house.

##

Halanis could see the aristo-boy approaching her again and also wondered what he was holding behind him. Finally he walked back to the same spot he was standing in front of Halanis and he gave another big smile and spoke.

“Uh, Hello again miss.”

“Uhh… Heh, Hello to you to.” Halanis replied back meekly.

“*AHEM* Bendicht. My name is Bendicht Rhyner.” He said while maintaining his smile. “Bendicht Rhyner of House Rhyner, the noble house that makes and grows the best and most beautiful flowers in all of Plovenia, at your service.” He simply said and he looked on Halanis’ side to see Snickers, Halanis’ pet Crabworm. “Ah. I did not notice you have a pet crabworm there. From where I came from, such creatures are illegal to keep as pests and are treated as pests to be exterminated… Oh I almost forgot my manners, what is your name???”

>>52849506
Halanis was more interested now that Bendicht asked what her name is as she responded calmly. “Halanis, Halanis Ianrora is my name… So you’re a ‘noble?’ That means you’re a prince Bendicht?”

Bendicht Rhyner replied with a chuckle. “Heh, no dear Halanis. While we do have a merchant king, I’m no prince, nor am I part of the Royal Family that rules Plovania. I’m however of House Rhyner though; cousin of Andrin and Binia Rhyner.”

Halanis asked. “Soooo… What are you really gonna be doing in here? Are you and your family moving in here?”

“Well, not exactly. I’m only here to pursue education in this democratic nation of yours. My parents and other relatives decided I should study abroad since countries such as this have a wider array of schools and education, asides from reading, writing and math. True, Plovenia has esteemed educators around and schools everywhere, but my family decided I take lessons of advanced learning such as politics, economics and even the arts elsewhere.”

Halanis was intrigued and further inquired. “Really now? Maybe we might see each other at the same school… But where are you gonna stay exactly?”

Bendicht pointed at the empty villa that his limo is parked in front of while the accompanying older man and the business lady were still seen talking in front of its gate too. “That villa over there. We had it talked over to the ‘real estate’ and housing offices that we’ll be residing in there since it had a nice design. And that this suburban block is just a few kilometers from the big city.”

“‘We?’ Who’re you with?”

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>>52851599
Halanis asked and Bendicht pointed at where the business woman with the clipboard and older man that was accompanying Benedicht was. “That middle-aged man you see there. That’s my uncle, Florus Looser. He came along with me to act as a parental figure, guardian and to guide me around in the ‘more democratic’ land since certain things don’t work the same as I know back at Plovenia or in the lands that my family owns and governs. And that business lady, she’s a real estate agent whom we’re discussing ownership of that villa. And the armed men you are seeing, they’re our security detail.” Bendicht paused for just a short moment to inquire another question about Halanis herself, and then spoke again.

“So Halanis, judging from your appearance. You are a half elf, you have a beautiful elven face but while your ears are pointed they are not as long as a normal elf. Plus your eyes are of human quality and looks.”

Halanis nodded at that but could not help a small giggle. “Yes that’s right. And really, is that true? …You think I’m pretty?”

“Of course you are, not solely because you are of elven blood and genes. But even if you are a human, I think you’d still look stunning.” Benedicht said assuringly and Halanis let out another giggle and Bendicht continued. “I just speak the truth, not trying to court or woo you though hehehe, to soon yes?”

Another giggle from Halanis. “Ehehe, yeah true. Plus my mom would’ve flipped if I dated someone too soon.”

Just then, Bendicht’s uncle Florus called to him. “Bendicht! Come over here! We are heading back to the municipal hall.”

Bendicht looked over to his uncle Florus and spoke back out loud. “Yes I’m coming.” Then faced Halanis again. “We’ll have to continue such conversations another time Halanis. My uncle and other familial related duties are calling me again.”

>>52851945
“Oh! Before I leave, here. For you and maybe your parents too.” Bendicht quickly showed to Halanis what he was keeping behind his back the whole time, a sunflower. Which Halanis was slightly surprised that Bendicht was hiding something behind his back the whole time, as he continued on. “A sunflower, grown in the soils of House Rhyner’s illustrious gardens. Besides there is a reason why the formal outfit I’m wearing has floral insignias, it is my family’s crest since we grow the most exquisite flowers in all of Plovenia.”

Halanis’ pet crabworm Skittles stuck out its tongue and did a raspberry to Bendicht, finding what he just did to be cheesy. And Halanis; though initially hesitant, accepted his gift as Bendicht tipped his peaked cap before Halanis got the sunflower from his hand. Bendicht placed back his hat and immediately went back to the limo he and his uncle were riding in and the guards that were accompanying them also went back to their SUVs. Bendicht and his uncle Flores got back into their limo and so did that real estate woman who wrote something in her clipboard and went along with them.

And soon, the security SUVs that formed a perimeter on the road infront of the empty villa and infront of Halanis’ home drove, with the limo on the middle. As the on-looking residents including Halanis watched the convoy driving off until they could no longer be seen. And after that, the on-looking residents decided to continue on with their day while some simply went back inside. And so did Halanis, but as she decided to walk back inside she was slightly surprised to see her parents were there on the door front. Realizing they likely watched the whole thing happen.

>>52852095
“Looks like you got yourself a new boyfriend Halanis!” Her dad, George said jokingly with a grin.

“What the!? Dad! He’s not a boyfriend! Just a new neighbor and maybe friend! I’m not ready yet.” Said Halanis.

“Indeed, don’t tease our daughter like that George. A relationship is quite a non-laughing matter-” Halanis’ elven mom said as she was cut off by George.

“Aw come on girls, lighten up. I was just kidding I know he could be a new friend AND neighbor Halanis. I overheard him saying to you he and his guardian’s moving in to that villa in front of us.”

“And with those aristocratic nobles moving in, they’d probably make that villa look even more elegant, luxurious and fancy with the money they’re likely packing.” Elasha said as she looked at the sunflower that Halanis was given by Bendicht as Halanis decided to hand it over to her mom and Elasha inspected it closer. “Well they don’t lie when they say House Rhyner of Plovenia grow the finest flowers you’d ever see. I’ve been alive for about a hundred-plus years and they still make such top quality flowers… How about we all head back inside, this sunny day is starting feel more humid right now, I’ll go make us some juice.”

Halanis and George the father both were please by that. “Of course dear, you elves always make the best foods and drinks humans would die for.”

“Mhhmm, thank you for such a lovely compliment dear husband. And Halanis, I’m actually looking forward to meet your new friend and neighbor. And I have a feeling we’ll be able to meet him again, and probably his relatives who’d be along with him in staying in this country. And I’ll find a nice spot to plant this flower.”

Halanis was delighted. “Aww thanks mom, and yes let’s get back inside. We love your juice mom. C’mon Skittles, we can walk later afternoon. We’re having mom’s juice.”

Halanis’ pet crabworm clicked approvingly as they all went back inside.
.

>>52847303
However, rather than the simple cruelties of man hunting man for their crimes, wolves had a worse punishment: exile. We were forever banned from all packs. My father fought for our safety, but he failed and was scarred. This way everyone knew our shame.

I am sure you know this, but a wolf is only a wolf by themselves. When a wolf has a pack, then they become so much more than just a few wolves. Wolves learn to trust each other and work together. Their survival depends on their ability to cooperate. To force a wolf to live on their own is considered doom for them. I do not wish for this to happen to you as well. I want you to protect each other because I care so much for you. I want you to be able to belong. It would have helped my father at the least. Bless his heart, he fought so hard for so long. Meanwhile I was but a scared girl who knew nothing about myself.
Eventually, he just wore himself out too much from hunting and protecting two people. He collapsed and never woke up again. I was finally alone, doomed to pay for the mistake of my own birth. The wolves did not want anything to do with me. The humans would have killed me if they had the chance. Thus, my only choice was to hide on the fringes of both worlds. During the day, I would hide among the people in disguise. I did nothing more out of my fear of everyone knowing who I was. Once the sun set, I left the lands of men to hide among the darkness of the forest, where no man could find me but always keeping out of the wolves’ way. Surviving for me meant scrounging around for scraps of refuse. Sleep meant either hiding behind houses and leaving before everyone woke up or sleeping deep in the forest where I could possibly be found if I didn’t leave when either side went on a hunt.

>>52852946
One night, however, I found myself staying at a tavern. It was cold outside and I don’t know why, but I could not stand that cold. That night, someone finally spoke to me. I did not understand why, but he only asked why I was there. I asked him if he remembered when man feared wolf. The next day, he asked me how I felt about man hunting wolf. The day after that, a question about where the wolves could go if they could not stay. For the first time in a long while, I was happy that someone was willing to talk to me. There was someone out there in a world that punished me for living that wanted to stay by my side for any amount of time.
That man, young ones, is your grandfather Eric. He was the first person to know my secret. He was the first person to accept that I was unwanted by both man and wolf. That man, even though he knew I could never be like him, chose to become my father. With that man as my father, I learned to accept myself as something more than just a mistake and made me smile. When I decided that I would take each of you into my pack, he was so proud of me. He assured me that what I was doing would make my parents happy too. It was because of him that I had the courage to accept each of you in.

Which reminds me that it’s going to be a full moon tonight. There’s somewhere I want to take you tonight. It was a full moon too when your grandfather learned about my secret.
See, there’s a suspicion among the wolves that fires give off light not only to see, but to remember. Therefore, on every full moon, all the wolves of the forest come together before a large fire. Then they reminisce over those that have since moved on and converse with each other. It is also the one time everyone can see the people of their life that are no more, deceased parents and friends as well as those who may not have agreed with us. This is how the wolves all remember that they are still one big pack.

>>52854152
Before I met your grandfather, I never stayed for such occasions. My status as a pup of men and my fears kept me from facing my parents for the longest time after they passed away. I was always so scared that I made them sad by not being better, that if I showed them I was just some miserable shell hiding from both of my parents’ races I was going to let them down. That man though, he did not care. That night, he promised my parents’ memories that he would protect me. Despite everything I feared, all that I had worried about up until that night, they still smiled and thanked him for being there for me. Now free of all my fears, I decided to become part of grandfather’s pack.

And that is where I must end my tale, for after that day, I decided to adopt you. Though we may be able to see past the fears of both man and wolf, both groups still cling to these fears. It is my hope that one day, you may help me eventually remove these fears. I cannot guarantee that it will be easy, and I cannot say that you may not encounter danger along the way, but please believe me when I say that I want this world to be better for both man and wolf. They must realize that their fears have no hold and that we can coexist peacefully.
Now, we must hurry. The moon is reaching higher in the sky. We need to reach the fire soon so we can meet everyone. I’m sure my parents will be so happy to see you all.

>>52816633
I have a folder chock full of background images that I ripped either from here (4chan in general) or from clicking that damnable StumbleUpon button.

https://www.dropbox.com/sh/86qhczr6vfsboe1/AAB2b02xgltlxrWqUaYgyKWGa?dl=0

Go nuts.

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Feels good to be able to post again. I was gone for weeks and with a bad connection. Glad I was able to save this thread.

>>52858997
uhhh what am i looking at exactly

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>>52859259
I'm not sure. I think that are robots just without legs and arms and you buy those separately. Used androids or maybe sex slaves. Either way I want I want to see what people come up with.

>>52860907
>>52860886
Slow your roll, bro. Maybe one image bump an hour.

>>52700578
When we sleep, we are vulnerable to the depredations of the monsters that lurk in the astral realm. Possessions, missing children, healthy men and women who go to sleep one night only to never awaken, their bodies marred and twisted into obscene shapes, the terror of their final moments etched upon their features.

My name is Aneline, and I am the first of many to come. Long has humanity been defenseless to these demons, but I am an evolution, not unlike the discovery of fire. Fire is used to drive back the dark. I am the conscious fire that does not merely abate the dark, I am the Light that seeks out and destroys it.

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>>52866554
With images, if you please.

Gonna take some advice from /y/ >>52794991 to try writing some /u/ >>52858967 I totally didn't delete this post to fix a typo and edit it a bit, nope.

"Come ooon," she mock-pouted as I pushed her face away from mine.
"No, Alice. S-stop." I said, trying and failing to sound forceful. It certainly didn't help that I could feel my entire face flushed with heat.
"Gwen," she whispered to me, "is that what you really want?" Alice playfully nibbled my ear, and to my embarrassment I let out a soft, almost inaudible moan.

Almost. Like always she heard it as clear as day, and her cheerful smile grew even wider. She pushed me over onto the couch, her mouth barely centimeters away from my own.

"See!" Alice's sweet voice sang out. "You're never honest about this, you know? Pulling me on top of you and all."
"G-get o-off!" I stuttered again, turning my head aside because I was too flustered to look into her warm, brown eyes. At her small, adorable nose. At those soft, delicious lips…

I found her tongue dancing with mine, her gentle fingers stroking my hair and a soft, cup-sized warmth between my fingers..
“We can’t, Alice.” I said through heavy breaths as we finally broke our kiss. “It’s the art club room...”
“Just like our first time?” Alice unbuttoned my jacket and shirt. “And it’s really hard for me to stop with your fingers in—”

I silenced her with another kiss, the setting sun casting shadows of love on the art club’s opposite wall.

>>52869249
Cute/10

>>52735830
"Not sure if jailbait..."

>>52891667
Dat iz cute....Now gimme ma choppa, got a grey git to kill.

>>52893080
In other words, can I write a sketch of a rogue trader ork bar fighting grey knight over sister hospilater?

>>52852331
>Meanwhile inside the limo carrying Bendicht

"We'll just reach the municipal hall, discuss that you'll be residing in that villa, sign the legal papers. Pay then we're all done-" A ring came from the business woman's cellphone. "Hold on, let me take this." She answered her phone to talk to her caller.

As the three-vehicle convoy was carrying Bendicht Rhyner and his uncle Florus Looser was on its way to the inner city area to reach the municipal hall. Uncle Florus spoke to Bendicht.

"Huh, just first day in this country and already you've been struck by a pretty girl?" Bendicht jolted his head, facing his uncle and was surprised by the question as Florus continued. "Come now Bendicht, you really thought I did not notice you chatting up with that elven girl? Tell me? You've already gotten a crush with your soon-to-be-neighbor?"

Bendicht replied meekly. "First off, she is a half elf. And second... Yes, I have an. Infatuation for that girl I just met."

Florus scooted closer to his nephew lightly patted his shoulder. "Now now Bendicht, there is nothing wrong with that. You are a growing man, and such feelings for being attracted to a girl is normal. Do not worry, pretty sure you'll meet her again soon enough once we get the legal process of moving into that abode in that neighborhood. Besides she looked like she lived in that house in front of the villa we'll be residing in."

Its true, Halanis lived in that house in front of the villa Bendicht will be staying in while being in this country to prusue and further his studies. This give Bendicht Rhyner motivation, motivation to be a good studious and well mannered boy for his crush. His crush that he just met in his first day in this foregin land.

(Allright that should oughta be it for this week's thread and end. So how's it then as far as short stories go?)

>>52796216
God -damn,- Chronicler. You better archive that one, too.
God damn.

>>52902410
Yeah, now that you mention it, it's been a while since I uploaded one of my stories to the wiki page actually. They go into a separate folder so they don't get done with the others. But they get done eventually (I think there are like eighty of my stories on there atm)

I take it you liked it then?

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>>52902564
No, he fucking hated it.

>>52903411
maybe it was a polite way of asking for some feedback beyond 'it's good'. because just saying its good is encouraging, but it doesn't help make it better.

Since the first time they smoked the lotus flower and felt their spirit slip from their skin and into the qlipoth, the shaman knew they were true Enarei: they who walk the middle path, living never fully in one world or the other.

For so long the shaman had known this life - that of the tribe's guide through a world smothered in chaos. The wheel of years was wont to grind and grind, however, and with each passing the Enarei found itself cast farther to the margins of its world, ever more a spirit than a living thing, a shade of the qliphoth...

Yet it remembered itself, and so when a girl arrived on the days following the autumn equinox, it returned to its body and woke from the long sleep of its latest quest into sleeping lands. Each return from that faraway place demanded a steeper price.

"A wind came in summer," the girl told the Enarei in a voice sweetened by youth. "A wind from the Black Sea, carrying spirits of the dead. They took the dreams of my beloved. Now he mills absently among the yurts of our tribe. He goes not into the heart of the steppe with his brothers to hunt, so his arms grow thin, our bellies empty, his seed weak. His ambition dies. Return him to me and you will become my firstborn."

It was a curious payment the girl offered. The thought it provoked must have been visible in the Enarei's expression, for the girl continued, "Oh yes, though you possess many secrets, do not count this among them. The night grows thick with spirits and the mother of my mother told me often of the night when I was a babe, of years when the night was merely a garden for the stars and not a refuge for all that is unholy in our hearts. I know you grow weak and must die soon, so I offer you another path. Though you must be strong in the otherworld, surely your spirit cannot remain there... they say one vessel is the anchor of the other."

~*~

continued

In the deep shadowlands at the edge of the dreamscape the Enarei found the spirits the girl had spoken of. Through the cloying sweetness of the lotus they could taste the smokey trail of the spirits' essence; the ghosts of small children were like streaking comets, stars that burned quick and bright before the qliphoth swallowed them. They cast ripples like raindrops in a quiescent puddle. Deeper than ever before, the shaman followed that rippling wake, into worlds untouched by their hand or that of any shaman whose experience they could call upon as their own guide through this formless place.

So the Enarei arrived, scarcely more than a shade itself, spent utterly by the wasting journey through so many minds to a place so foreign to all thought. The children, their light spent, rested like coals nestled amongst the shapeless dreams of the unborn... desperate to burrow back into the waking world, eager for the life denied them. In its warmth he heard the story-song of its brief, lonely existence...

An image of the sweltering temples in Samaria to the distant south, priests stoking a fire in a room reeking of sandalwood, painting symbols in lamb's blood on an altar... ADRAMALECH, the demon who hungers for infant souls... one by one the Enarei gathered the sparks of childlike being, felt them be thrust upon the pyre. Recognized at least once, they faded into the substance of the qliphoth, leaving behind the crystal dust of tribal dreams for the Enarei to collect. They did not know if the will remained to return home, however... the way was long and dark and cold, and the body they sought was not much warmer, and invited only the memory of aches creeping into old bones unused to age, for in the dreaming world they remained forever young.

~*~

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