Storythread

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>>54445478

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>>54445500

I'm shit at writing but sometimes I have not entirely shit ideas.

Most recent one would be that if a BBEG caliber guy would get ready for a "journey" to meet an old friend, and bringing some of his entourage (them having no idea where they will go)
Then it turns out the old friend is Bob Bobnovich from fucknowheristan a slightly well off peasant who back in the days helped the BBEG guy to meet his love.
Now it's Bob's wedding and while Bob is slightly aware of his friends current "job" the rest of his family and friends not so much.
Hilarity ensues.

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I'm not going to be around this weekend (basically from now onwards), so hopefully anons will keep an eye on this thread and bump it in my absence, otherwise this is going to be even shorter than the last thread.

g'night all

El-Hakik was a city of contrasts. Tall palaces overlooked the largest port in the southlands, in all their splendid glory. The city's towers seemed to be carved out of ivory, and the walls made of ebony.

The walls hid a city teeming with life, perhaps too much life for a port this big. El Hakik was the marienburg of the southlands, a city filled with thieves, cutthroats and worse.

It is not a surprise what ended up happening to the city on during the year 2519. The city of Copher, a smaller, but far more organised city state had long been looking to become the premier trading hub of the southlands. The city states of the Southlands, much like those of tilea were fiercely independent and vied to become a kingdom as they had been in ages past, with each of the cities as the new seat of an arabyan empire.

On this occasion, the threat of an invasion from Naggaroth had caused the High elves -normally the brokers of arabyan city states- to race home, leaving the seas open for piracy, and the wind calling for war.

Far away in tilea, the howling wind lent wing to the ships that sailed the seas, and thus the dogs of war were let loose...

Imma continue this later tomorrow, I need to sleep .

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Much as I want to contribute...well, I've had to rewrite what I have and am now stuck where I was before I had to rewrite.

Hopefully some sleep might allow me to push forward and maybe finish this.

>>54445442

Something I threw together for last time. Very raw.

Far to the east of the capital, in the rugged terrain of the high desert, lay the territory of the trollkin. As their land could provide little to the unlearned, they had few outside visitors, much like this thread.

The soil was alkaline, and potable water was difficult to obtain. Agriculture and grazing were impossible. Game was infrequent, and quite shrewd.

These trolls mainly survived on the carcasses of the foolish, much like the prepubescent board-dwelling ones we know today.

The women of these tribes had an uncanny instinct for animal behavior. No animal was safe from them. Thus, they were the hunters, gathering carrion and fresh kill alike. Clay sling bullets and bolas were their means, stone knives their tools and sidearms. Of critical importance were food and water decontamination. Men handled all aspects of water and food preparation, relying on an astonishing array of chemicals to cook and purify their meals. Metal was unknown to them. They bartered with stone tokens for IOUs, which the men crafted when they had time.

>>54458574
The daily quest for water was the most important duty, particularly during the fiery summer months. A good water source might endure for a week at the most, before sand or heat or demand swallowed it up. The hunters would carefully mark any sources they found for the men to come collect. The water was usually tainted, and required chemical purification cocktails, or boiling in partially-lidded stone troughs made for this purpose. When cool, the result would be fed to one of a small number of quails they raised; if it took ill or died, they poured out the water and looked to tap another source.

A bit of seacoast afforded access to the great ocean. Wood for shipbuilding was impossible to find in any quantity, and the seaboard was fraught with jagged rocks and sandbars anyway. The children often played at the cove and swam in the cool water during the summer months. The coast had been a dead zone for as long as they could remember, with no aquaculture worth mentioning. Still, clumps of seaweed happened along from time to time, which they gathered for food, and sometimes used for crude twine.

>>54458752
The plateaus and craggy cliffs of the high desert provided shelter for these stubborn inhabitants. Using their stone tools, they carefully scraped out a hollow in whatever rock wall was handy. A space just large enough for their needs, no more, lest it collapse on them. Over time they had created a series of these small and open caves all over the territory. They moved between them in search of food and water, the men carrying their troughs and buckets on their backs.

They never thought of any location as "home". Families, and sometimes whole clans, moved regularly, not that there was much to pack. In the summer, the canyons provided rare protection from the bitter heat, but the risk of a flash flood meant that they could not rest easy there.

>>54458843
These trolls had lived and died this way for so long that they were not certain where they had originally come from. Some thought they may have been driven from the fertile lands to the west when the human empire arose. Others thought they had come from across the sea, in ships made from the smooth material of seashells, or on the backs of giant birds. Still others wondered if they had been underground dwellers, forced to the surface by upheavals within the Underdark. The eldest insisted that trolls had always lived here.

It was hard to imagine a time when this land might have been different, fertile, well-watered, teeming with life.

But in Damaris' time, everything would change.

>>54445442
I'm stuck on a story I've been writing since 2012. It's over 110,000 words long but has ground to a halt thanks to the fact that after a two-year thesis I've lost the ability to write convincing human speech. No dialogue I write sounds natural anymore. It sounds like an alien trying to fake being human. Does anyone have any ideas on how to make humans talk naturally again?

>>54458899
Hopefully this thread will survive until I get time to write more. I've got company over today.

>>54460422
Post a paragraph of it.

>>54458899
The troll later known to history as Damaris The Sentry was born a few years after the ascension of King Ewald to the capital throne. The trolls themselves had no king or nobility. Only the most serious matters warranted a gathering to decide what to do.

Damaris was born second after her brother, and was the youngest child of her father. This man was a quiet craftsman of some skill. Back then, it was forbidden among the trolls to teach women the secrets of purifying food and water. But when she pleaded with him, he taught young Damaris a few things about stonework. Her mother was a stern and quiet hunter, hardbitten and competent. She was rarely satisfied with Damaris' performance in the wild. That was how a woman's legacy was judged in those days, by how well her daughter learned to hunt.

>>54464407
Among the trolls, young Damaris was mainly known for her ability to fabricate and repair hunting weapons. All the women came to Damaris for construction of knives and bolas that would throw true. Although her own hunting abilities were not poor, the tribe constantly compared them to those of her mother, whose skill was renowned.

The trolls of the wastes lived hard, short lives, and had few formal customs. If a troll woman got along with a man, they would simply mate and begin living together, usually at the onset of puberty. Occasionally as a pretext, a woman might bring the man a kill to prepare, and then just never get around to leaving his cave. The interdependence of living in such harsh conditions made separations quite rare.

For her mate, Damaris selected Kopek, a well-liked troll who, though a competent water-worker, was something of a slacker. She had always been attracted to him despite their vast differences, or maybe because of them.

We might never have learned of this obscure race, except for a rare occurrence that found Damaris one day while she was on a hunt.

>>54464755
Damaris had been with Kopek for only a few moons when her mother suddenly disappeared. Her body was later found with no marks on it, in a canyon far to the west, where the hunters only rarely ranged. As a result, Damaris was suspicious of the western reaches and tended not to hunt there.

One morning in the autumn, when the last of the summer heat was expiring, Damaris decided to hunt along the highest plateau near the cove. As she was crossing a natural bridge, the ground began to shake tremendously. Damaris was knocked off her feet. Gazing to the west, she saw the entire plain begin to tilt upwards at the western end. Huge clouds of dust filled the air, making it impossible to see further.

She turned her eyes to the east and looked down on the cove, where she saw a most unusual sight. Out where the cove met the ocean, the seawater was bubbling violently. The waves parted to reveal a black mass beginning to form on the surface of the water. She watched it for awhile as it grew, wondering what this would mean.

When the dust settled enough, she decided to make her way back to her cave. But the tremors continued, all that day, and for many days afterward. Everyone was very worried.

>>54465247
The trolls of the wastes had no revelation of any gods, or of supernatural powers of any kind. Theirs was the pragmatic existence of predator and prey. If an all-powerful entity wished to take their lives, most would have accepted it as their fate, just as they accepted that prey must die for them to live. Resources were too dear to offer in sacrifice.

With no holy men to offer explanations for this phenomenon, and nothing in the oral histories about any shaking, the trolls were at a loss. The worst fear was that the shifting land would plug their intermittent sources of water. That would doom them all.

Having seen the massive tectonic display from her vantage point on the natural bridge, Damaris became curious about what this could mean for her people. Although the hunting on the highest plateau was poor, she began to travel there every day. The plain began to tilt even higher in the west, and lowered in the east, while the black mass in the ocean began to broaden and rise. Damaris marked the progressions by notching the cliff wall with her stone knife.

Kopek was unhappy. He liked a good meal, and was getting sick of eating quail eggs and dried snake jerky. But Damaris felt that a great danger threatened them, and became obsessed with stopping it.

>>54465543
sorry, guys, I'm juiced.

>>54465543
Eventually the quakes stopped, but life grew harder for them. As they had feared, some of their water sources dried up, and the water-workers had to range farther away. The burden of carrying heavy stone buckets full of water for miles and then trying to prepare food and corral the kids was too much. Every man was exhausted.

Some of the men began to bring the women with them to gather water. The hunting was awful anyway.

They began to exhaust their supplies of dried meat. Kopek was unusually quiet.

>>54469874
One day Damaris decided to try to hunt the highest plateau. She had cast some clay pellets, and was hoping to possibly down some passing birds with them.

At the natural bridge, more out of habit than anything, she gazed out to sea, and what she saw stunned her.

The black mass had turned green, and hordes of gulls were ascending from it and diving on it.

She had brought down the occasional gull before, but the dead zone had meant they were very rare. The volcano had changed that.

She had to know more, so she descended to the cove.

>>54469925
With the tide going out, she was able to wade about half of the way to the island. Trees, shrubs, and sea grape covered its surface.

That much greenery could not be there without a source of fresh water. And that many gulls meant meat, lots of it.

She swam toward it with slow, powerful strokes, trying to conserve energy. Soon, she felt the sea bottom beneath her feet again, rising toward the black, rugged beach. As her bare feet touched the island for the first time, she knew this was the answer to all their problems.

>>54470114
The quakes had opened the sea floor, and thick lava pushed through. Piling up in heaps, it finally breached the surface, cooling into pitted and bubbled black slag. Meanwhile, underwater ejections of sulfur and nitre awakened dormant bacterium that fed on them, and those bacteria drew fish. The fish drew gulls and other seabirds. Seeds from their waste peppered the island, settling into cracks in the porous igneous rock. Under the force of sandy winds and freak waves, the fragile rock began to crumble into soil. The seeds found that soil, along with some fresh moisture, and began to sprout, forcing the rocks apart.

That same moisture bathed Damaris' face as she reached the central dome, the highest point of the island. A hot spring had forced its way through the virgin rock. Steam and water cascaded everywhere.

The water pooled on the side farthest from the cove. It was cool enough to touch, so she tasted it. The flavor was amazing. She finished the water in her skin, then refilled it from the pool.

Then she downed two fat gulls with well-thrown rocks, bound them to her bandolier, and headed for the beach. The tide was coming back in now, and she couldn't afford to stay any longer.

She could not wait to tell everyone the news.

>>54470526
Kopek was hungry, and in a surly mood. He had been out all day and found no water, and their trough was getting low.

Quietly she plucked the birds, then brought them to him in silence. She ached to blurt out everything, but something held her back.

Kopek murmured in appreciation of the fine take Damaris had gotten. "These are fat," he said in awe. He began to smile, his first smile in days. He knew better than to ask where she found them; no hunter would ever divulge her hunting ground.

As she had done so many times before, Damaris uncorked the skin and offered it to him. "Taste this," she said.

Kopek expertly raised the skin to his nose. "Smells of iron and calcite, and a little salt," he said. "That's good." He took a small sip, then stared at her for a long time. "This is the best water I have ever tasted," he said. "Any chemical I would add would only degrade it. Tell me where to go, and I'll gather it. I'll leave tonight if I have to."

She smiled. "You won't have to leave tonight," she said, and there was a twinkle in her eye.

>>54470944
[following entry is all PG 13 naughtiness]

They made love that night, in the mouth of their cliffside cave in the wastes. The sandy desert floor was their couch, the cloudless, starry sky their canopy. Exultation mingled with relief as their passions surged, like breakers crashing against the jagged coast of the land they called home.

Kopek touched her that night like no man had ever touched her. His gentle caresses brought forth an intensity in herself that she had never felt.

For a moment, he glimpsed in her mind's eye the spring, bubbling forth from between two smoothed slabs of rock, gently dribbling down the slope, coating her skin with ardent moisture. His ministrations were driving her mad. His curly whiskers tickled her face, but she barely felt it. She kissed him as if she would never see him again.

Her need driving her, she rolled on top of him, and settled into her course. She had seen other women mate this way, but she had never tried it, until tonight. Now, however, she threw caution to the wind. Her twin, conelike breasts sedately rode the waves of her passion, their nipples like adamant.

Kopek gripped her behind her knees and held on for dear life. In one moment, she had transformed from a quiet, sophisticated huntress into this wild and playful nymph, like a being out of myth. The sights and sounds of her pleasure were a thing to behold.

Arching her back, shuddering, bucking with the sheer visceral thrill of her release, she fought against it, as if to break herself upon his body, determined to see this through to its farthest height.

>>54471828
[following entry is all PG 13 naughtiness]

The trolls of that time were not like those we know today. Their skins were thick, their backs strong. They lived by deed, not by word.

Though a barbarian, when it came to having fun, Kopek was something of a connoiseur among his people. Now at his physical peak, his skills in lovemaking were second to none.

The gentler he touched her, the more she surged against him. He was teasing her now, evoking the unbridled demon within, calling to it like a summoner in the Hall of Second Sight. His tongue upon her flesh felt like the waves had, lapping against her inner thighs. Her hands, palms outstretched, at first tried to fend him off, then pulled him into her. She had lived her life by control, and letting go was not her way.

But he was singleminded, and she knew, as he knelt before her, plying her toned legs apart, that control was a luxury that was rapidly slipping away. Her fingers dug helplessly into the sand as he divided her, focusing all of his skill on her quivering form. In the end, he carried her as he willed, drove her about as he willed, took her as he willed. She would've been off to the land of dreams by this time. But he delayed, squeezing every last bit of patience from her, as he rocked her back and forth across the threshhold of ecstasy, with those determined, powerful thrusts that drove everything from her mind, tempted her sanity, and threatened to bring the stoic huntress to his heel.

Then, they lay there, as though dead, gasping like fish out of water, their thoughts turning to who could have heard. Eventually, Kopek picked her up, brushed the sand off her, and carried her, gently laying her on her cot. She never felt it.

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>>54445442

>>54472415
The sun was high when they awakened, and they had much to do.

Clarity came with a good night's sleep. The island presented a dilemma for them. They could not ferry water from it. As a nomadic people, they would have to move onto the island to reap its bounty.

But the dangers were manifold. The island was broad, and could support perhaps twenty families. But the treacherousness of the deep sea, the possibility of winter storms, the dangerous-looking fish she had seen, and the threat of a future eruption were all daunting hazards.

They both disliked the idea of taming the island alone, she in view of its many unknown dangers, he because there was no one to drink with. In rare times of plenty, the trolls concocted from a spiked desert plant an intoxicating drink called kemrah, and Kopek loved to celebrate.

They decided to gather what they could and prepare a dinner for their neighbors, to try to persuade them.

>>54472692
In the end, no one went with them.

Kopek's cuisine had been impeccable by troll standards, and they all agreed the water was far better than anything they had here. But Damaris ruined everything.

She had never been wise to the feelings of others. Even her animal empathy as a huntress was affected, and more than one prey had evaded her grasp that way. She was cringingly direct, painfully honest, and tended to prattle on in times of nervousness, and all of those features were on full display.

The dangers were just too great for a move like that. The most forward of them, a female named Clea, openly said what they were all thinking. They preferred to take their chances here, in the world they knew, and if necessary, to face death on their terms.

Only with many protestations did she even secure Kopek's support for traveling there together. In the end, it was the promise that they would only stay one month, a month of plenteous days and nights measured by number of passionate trysts. After all, she had to do something to keep fit when hunting was this easy.

>>54473163
They left most of their larger tools behind, restricting themselves to several stone knives, a punch, and a hammerstone. They also brought skin tarps to create shelter against the sun, chemicals for cooking, and extra waterskins in case the spring should be disrupted by an earthquake.

For the most part, the island was a paradise. The food was beyond anything they could have hoped for, the water like wine. Sinews and seaweed awoke the crafter within Damaris, and the tide brought in materials they had never seen before. Bamboo and timbers allowed her to expand the sun shelters, a yellow sail from the southern pirate coasts she turned into a fetching wrap.

Kopek stopped talking about their old home almost immediately. He began to lose himself in the culinary possibilities. With water plentous, he turned his attention to fishing. He carved a bamboo pole into a fishing spear, and soon they began to sample the delicacies of the deep.

With a strong sense for danger, Damaris had tended to be cautious about matters that could invite ridicule. Except for that one night under the stars, her lovemaking had been staid and quiet, for fear that others would trouble her about it. The privacy of the island changed all that, and she gave in to her curiousity. There were few avenues they did not try. Kopek wore a smile at all hours of the day. Months passed.

As the odes say, it was like heaven on earth, and it could not last.

>>54473873
One day, Kopek found a crate of glass bottles of Tinaxian wine. They sampled it freely and got more than a little drunk. Kopek began to talk about the old life back in the wastes. "If we could only bring them some of this wine," he said. "They've been dour for so long. Think of how much fun we would have!"

"They wouldn't trust it," Damaris argued. "Going back to them now would be a bad idea." Kopek nodded and fell silent.

The next day, Damaris awoke to find Kopek gathering up his supplies. "What are you doing," she asked. "I lost our last knife while fishing," he said. "I'll have to go back to the mainland and make new ones."

She produced a spare knife from under her pillow, but he shook his head. "That's not the right kind of knife," he insisted, despite the fact they only had ever known one kind.

She stared at him, trying to gauge what he wanted. Kopek was not usually hard to read, but reading people was Damaris' weak point. "Stay one more night," she said. After a moment, he agreed.

It was a night they would never forget.

>>54474001
It was the end of a very peaceful winter, with only a few gentle squalls worth noting. But as the sun arose that morning in a blood red sky, the clouds began to build. By afternoon, it was as dark as night, and when the sun finally set, the tempest began. The birds and fish scattered, knowing the dangers to come.

The winds were beyond anything they had ever seen. The rain was coming down almost horizontally, stinging their bare flesh without respite. When one tarp snapped free and began to flap raucously in the wind, Damaris tore it down and wrapped them in it.

Tremendous waves began to surge up from the beach and onto the sill where they huddled. They had done everything they could to secure their belongings, but one by one the greedy ocean began to snatch them away. When Kopek was nearly knocked off his feet by a particularly large wave, Damaris knew she had to act.

Grabbing him with one arm, she began ascending the central dome, where the hot spring was.

>>54474177
When Kopek told the tale later, few believed him. It was too farfetched, they said.

Finding the spring intact, Damaris made a split-second decision. She laid their tarp over it, using large rocks to jam it into place, to force the heated water into the cooling pool. Then in the space she had cleared, she began to dig at the rock with her stone knife.

Kopek cried out in terror as a huge wave traveled the full length of the slope and struck savagely at their feet. With all her strength, Damaris drove her stone knife into the tiny split she had gouged in the rock. Then, wrapping both arms around her companion's neck, she wrapped her fingers around the roughened grip of the knife and held on.

Waves crashed over them, debris surged around them. Timbers two spans in diameter mingled with empty waterskins and kelp. A young girl's pink pinafore washed by.

Their mouths inches away from one another, they still could not hear their cries over the raging wind and seas.

She held on longer than she had ever thought possible. But in the end, she lost consciousness.

>>54474321
She awoke to Kopek shaking her, and vomited out some seawater. They both felt awful. Kopek's shoulder had been dislocated by a massive timber, and she was covered in bruises and scrapes. The storm surge had carried them into the cooling pool before it abated, and it was a miracle that neither of them had drowned or been swept away.

There was no argument about it now. They would have to return to the wastes. Getting anyone to come here now would be impossible.

They lay there all that day and night, fearfully watching clouds flit by on the tailwind of the giant storm.

Then they made their way back, their disheveled appearance a cautionary tale.

>>54474483
Their wounds healed, and they began to take up their old life once more. Their neighbors were horrified to hear what had befallen them, and most of them were eager to help.

Things had improved on the wastes while they had been gone. The storm had flooded the canyons and seasonal streams. Their troughs were brimming, and game was returning.

Kopek was never the same after that night. His eyes wore a haunted look, and he turned to drink. He would not even talk about the island after that.

But Damaris never got over that island. In fact, she swam back to it the very next day. It called to her. She couldn't stay, but she continued to hunt there.

>>54474579
The portion of the plain that had descended began to fill with water. It was tainted, but the water-workers could purify it, and the fortunes of the trolls began to turn.

For several days after the storm, debris continued to wash up on the island. Damaris went out to it every day.

The one thing that had remained on the island was the plant life. It had revived almost immediately. There were even new kinds of plants springing up.

Although cultivation was unknown to the trolls of the wastes, Damaris noted that the plants closest to the hot springs did the best in the hotter months. She often watered the struggling plants, and ripped out some of the more common ones to make room.

Bounteous times bring nature's blessing, as the odes say, and Damaris soon found that she was with child. The light came back into Kopek's eyes again. In time, she could no longer swim out to the island, and returned to her old life of hunting and fabricating weapons.

>>54474853
Later that year, Damaris gave birth to a baby boy, whom she named Kogen. Kopek was as proud as could be. He doted on the little lad, and took him everywhere.

As game became more plentiful and her child began to put demands on her time, Damaris stopped swimming out to her island to hunt. But she traveled to the plateau often, gazing out to sea from the natural bridge, out to the paradise she had loved so well.

With an influx of game, larger predators started appearing as well. Damaris began stalking jackals, boars, and large birds of prey, adapting new tactics for them, and having some success.

>>54475325
One day Damaris came home with a rather nice kill, but neither Kopek or Kogen were home. She asked around and found that Clea had been entertaining them at her place. When she got there, she found Kopek dead drunk, with Clea bouncing Kogen on her knee.

Although the situation was somewhat suspicious, Damaris decided not to confront Clea until she knew where Kopek stood. As she gathered her child and drunken husband, Clea stared at her with a slight smirk on her face. Damaris hid her anger and slowly led her charges home.

While Kopek sobered up, Damaris learned a few more rumors about Clea from the local wagtongue. Word was that Clea had never liked her and said as much on many occasions. The most damning bit, however, was that Clea had overheard Damaris and Kopek talking the morning after the starry night tryst, and purposely turned everyone against traveling to the island, purely out of spite.

When questioned, Kopek maintained that the rumors were unfounded and that Damaris was just worrying too much. "You need to relax more," he said. Kopek could be rather persuasive when he wanted to, so Damaris came around and dropped her grudge against Clea.

>>54475466
After a number of years passed, Damaris became pregnant with her second child. This pregnancy was more difficult than the past one, and she was occasionally confined to bed. Kopek took care of her. Well into her second trimester, her symptoms eased. Damaris was able to hunt again, though not with her full skill.

One day, feeling nostalgic, she decided to climb the highest plateau and look on her island. Afterwards, as she carefully made her way down, she noticed from the notches she had made that the plain had lowered even more. The cove had now become a deep bay, and seawater threatened to flood the plain.

More canny now than in her youth, she decided not to say anything. Instead she quietly planned an evacuation. As the deepened bay could only be crossed when the spring tide was out, she prepared several skin bladders that could be filled with air, to help children and the elderly to float across. Preparing the floats was the work of several nights, and she was exhausted, but she pressed ahead.

>>54475605
One day she awoke to find all the water-workers meeting in the area outside her cave. Their stone tools were insufficient to desalinate the water. To make matters worse, seawater had begun gushing in through a gap in the crags, and stood to flood the whole plain, including many of their homes.

The time had come to try again. Damaris made her pitch once more, evenly, calmly, addressing every eventuality and possibility.

As before, Clea opposed it, but this time she had no plausible alternative. And when Damaris produced the bladder floats, that decided the majority, who had gotten weapons and skins from her for years.

So Clea grudgingly yielded. She even admitted that Damaris was the only one who could get them there. At this sign of reconciliation, Damaris melted. Tears in her eyes, she hugged Clea and thanked her. The thought of bringing the people she loved to her beloved island had sent her over the moon.

>>54475745
The morning before the migration, Damaris, though huge with child, traveled to the highest plateau to check on her island. She hadn't seen it in some time, and she wanted to be sure that everything would be all right for their dangerous journey.

As she had done so many times before, she made her way to the natural bridge. To her delight, tall coconut palms swayed gently over her beloved retreat. The island had never looked more lush, more beautiful to her than this moment. It had come to her in her moment of need, had anchored her in the moment of her greatest fear, had fed and nurtured her. It had helped her to see another side of herself, to explore her creativity in ways she had never known.

Suddenly a searing pain shot through her leg as a terrific impact knocked her down. The leg went completely dead.

She turned in horror to see Clea, reloading her sling with another oversized bullet.

>>54445478
Jherak turned slowly, but said nothing. His armor spoke instead, rumbling with a voice all its own as it moved, ancient plates grinding against each other. "Who goes there?" it thundered for him.

"Did I startle you, human?" The Eldar's voice was lilting, even through the crackle of its helmet. Jherak didn't know if it was male or female. He wondered if it had the same trouble distinguishing his own kind.

"If such a thing were possible, then you would not be alive, xeno."

"Indeed."

In truth, he hadn't heard it coming; it walked with a weightlessness across the floor that was absolutely silent. But there it was--the faint, spicy, cinnamony smell of dry books, almost too faint even for his inhuman senses to pick up, that went before every one of its kind he had ever met. Perhaps they were a race of librarians, these Eldar.

"The bottom floors are clear." Jherak held his weapon away from the xeno, but he kept the barrel at chest height.

"As are the top. Did you lose anyone?"

Beneath his death mask helmet, Jherak's steely jaw clenched. "One."

"Then we shall weep for him."

"You weep for a mon-keigh?"

"For a warrior. How precious few we are in these days."

Through two helmets and two sets of eye covering, Jherak felt their eyes lock. The purity seals that covered his armor, litanies against the wicked works of the alien, whicked around him in the draft from the stairs the Eldar had come down. "Too few."

At length, the Eldar spoke again. "You know one of our words, Deathwatch."

"Did you lose any of yours, Asurmen-son?"

It may have been only a heartbeat, but the Eldar hesitated. "Two."

Beneath his helmet, Jherak closed his eyes and bowed his head, ever so slightly. The gesture was lost outside the armor. "May they find peace as your kind do."

He turned again to leave.

"May we never meet again, mon-keigh", said the Eldar after him. It was not a curse.

"How precious few, xeno."

>>54475799
"Sorry Damaris, but this is the only way," Clea said coldly. She had stalked Damaris like wounded game, followed her onto the plateau, and was now fixated on the kill. Her eyes had that detached look that hunters have when preparing to dispatch their prey.

"Spare my unborn child!" Damaris wailed.

"You've taken the tribe in the wrong direction," said Clea. "Better two lives than seventy."

"They won't survive otherwise!" said Damaris.

A crooked smile spread across Clea's lips as the sling began to whirl. CRACK! The bullet struck Damaris' right forearm. Searing pain shot through her, every twitch was agony.

"Maybe. But the few that do will be looking to me to lead them, not to you." She stepped closer, readying the killing shot. "You never were a match for me in weapons, much less now in your pregnancy. Your mother was much more of a challenge. She fought to the end."

The sling spun up one last time.

"When I'm through with them, that fool of a water-worker and his son won't even remember you."

>>54475957
With her remaining strength, Damaris flung her left arm at Clea. The tiny knife, the knife that had anchored her in the storm, flew out. It struck Clea directly in her left eye.

Just then, a massive tremor struck. The whole plateau rocked as water surged onto the plain. Suddenly, a chunk of the natural bridge, eroded at the base, gave way under Clea's right foot. With her arms occupied, too late she tried to grab for the rock wall. But her right hand, still holding the sling, couldn't find purchase, and skidded off the edge. For a long moment she clung there, silently, facing her fate. Then she fell to the rocks, and was dashed to pieces.

It was at that moment that Damaris went suddenly into labor.

File: commisson___iris_and_gray_by_mleth-d9podkq.png (676KB, 900x836px) Image search: [Google]

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>>54445442

>>54476036
Kopek found Damaris some time later. A water-worker had been at the lake and heard a scream, where he turned and saw the women fighting on the natural bridge. Because there was no time left, they carried the unconscious Damaris on a stretcher directly to the bay. There they attached the floats to her stretcher and slowly made their way to her island, with her baby bound to her chest.

Convalsecing on the beach she loved so well, Damaris eventually recovered, but she never regained full use of her arm, and it pained her during storms. She named the baby girl Lydia, the first of the troll females that did not become a hunter.

The trolls developed the island into a major port. They ferried blocks to the island and constructed lighthouses and reinforced breakwaters to protect it. Soon, they became the seafaring people we know today. The wastes became a large bay, the caves that had been their homes became refuges for fish and octopi.

Damaris governed the island for 23 years. She died after a short illness, during the reign of King Jorin the Second.

With the help of his son, the grieving Kopek carved a large statue of Damaris. It was installed on the natural bridge, gazing out to her island and her beloved people.

Over time, the astronomers named a constellation after her. She is known as Damaris the Sentry, and guides sailors home from their voyages across the great sea. No heroes are named from that time save one, and her name is Damaris.

THE END

>>54476115
Good work anon

>>54460209
Oh there she is again with that elf... Not that have anything against humans being with non-humans, it’s just that of all people, my daughter Lucille just had to end up with that rogue Vamir Farwyn. That is why I'm concerned for Lucille, Vamir is a rogue or at least "used to be a rogue," according to Vamir himself. But I doubt him since he also said he was once a member of the Sunset Shadows that very infamous Thief's Guild now thankfully disbanded after the Viscount sent professional soldiers to dispatch them and arrest their leadership.

And now there they both are, an upper class and upper town human girl with an elf who frequents the slightly more impoverished lower class downtown area and is rarely seen above in the midtown and upper town area. And I will not go on as to how much the downtown place has a high crime rate, which makes me worrisome about Lucille being around that supposedly former rogue Vamir.

"Do not worry so much, I know Vamir used to be involved in the crime world, but he moved past that and now works as a small time blacksmith at downtown and sells his metal works at midtown."

Lucille tells me everytime she'd go out on a date with that elf. And yes Vamir does work as a smith and I admit, a number of metal works done in my abode have been the work of Vamir. Once elven rogue, now an elven smithy.

(May continue tommorow)

>>54458574
>>54458752
>>54458843
>>54458899
HOLY FUCKING OVERUSING COMMAS, BATMAN!

Bruvs, nobody expects aspiring writefags to have perfect score english but don't overderp with commas and shit, pur-leeeeese.

>>54479393
I differ from Strunk and White on that. I hate semicolons, splitting sentences ruins the hypnotic meter of the read, and inserting the pitiful conjunction "for" seems pompous.

>>54460209
El'mathwiea embraced his human lover. He came only seldom amongst thier kind, but he'd been this way before recently, and had shared many passionate trysts with the girl. He had much enjoyed resuming thier casual-yet-intimate relationship.

"My love," she sighed, "last night was wonderful..."

"As was this morning, and this afternoon, and half an hour ago behind mill-house." He quipped.

The girl batted at his shoulder "Be serious!" She scolded in mock-reprimand. "My point is; I fear we must be more discreet; no more climbing in through my window in the wee hours: Last night my mother almost caught us! Had you not been so quick in hiding under the bed..."

El'mathwiea silenced her objections with a kiss. "Calm yourself, beloved; sharp hearing and quick wits are elven traits of renown. As long as the floorboards outside your room creak we shall never be taken unawares."

"Even so, mother would send me to a nunnery if she caught us; she has always warned me against romantic dalliances with strange men."

"Then it is as well I am an elf, not a man." He retorted and kissed her again.

She melted into his arms, fiercely returning his kiss. Even though it had been not one half hour since they had last made love, the pair pulled each other over toward an overgrown corner of the courtyard. Pausing to affirm their privacy with furtive glances, they disappeared behind the dense undergrowth.

"Oh, El'mathwiea!" she moaned into his mouth.

"Oh, Serina!" He gasped as her hand plunged below his waistband.

She paused. "Susan."

"Pardon?"

"Susan. My name is Susan. Sarina is my mother's name, silly!"

A horrible thought occurred to El'mathwiea.

"...How old are you?" He asked, disentangling himself from her.

Her pretty face showed confusion. "Twenty-two years, why?"

El'mathwiea began to panic: How long had it been since he passed here last? Surely it wasn't *that* long ago? Do humans really age that fast? Oh god. Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod.....

>Thoughts?
>Feedback?

>>54481259
You're valid in strunk. Those are nonrestrictive clauses and they require commas.

>>54482911
It was a draft, so whatever.

>>54482428
...I have the urge to ask about seats and explanations.

It all started when you were nine.

Mom was never good about remembering to buy food. When she was drunk, she always forgot, and when she had to be sober she felt too sick to go shopping. You and Ben managed, mostly. You learned to cook, a little bit, and make do with what you had. But when she left the two of you alone one September weekend the pantry started running dry, fast.

That was when you met Can.

You could hear his voice, muffled, calling from the bottom of the trash bin. His label was dirty and he still had some rancid cream of mushroom soup inside him, but he cried and cried and cried until, eventually, you dug him out of there and held him in your hand. He thanked you and said he was so grateful that he would make sure you and Ben never went hungry again, as long as agreed to keep him somewhere safe. You agreed, not sure what to think.

The next morning, the pantry and fridge were fully stocked. Can beamed at you from your headrest where you kept him, in the strange way that you could only feel, not see. You asked Can where all this food came from, and he said it's ok, the people who had it won't miss it. You said isn't that stealing? But Can didn't say anything back.

>>54491695

One night mom came home late and the house caught fire.

The firemen said she must have fallen asleep with a cigarette in her hand. They said you were very brave to rescue your brother even though you had to choke on clouds of ash and burn your hand on the doorknob to his bedroom. You didn't feel brave, though. You just felt scared and alone.

That was when you met Bic.

You found her on your bedside table when you were in the hospital, after the doctor told you that you'd have to learn to write with your left hand now. Someone left it there on accident, a nurse or houskeeper maybe - just a little white cigarette lighter, unimportant to anyone but you. Bic said that you didn't have to be scared, because she would keep you safe.

Bic kept her promise. When mom lost custody, you went to live with uncle Wade, the one with the greasy hair and the smile that made you feel gross inside. He tried to touch your collarbone and Bic set his hair on fire. You tried to explain to Bic that it was bad to hurt people. Bic said okay, but what if they're really bad people? Then it isn't bad, right?

This time you were the one who didn't answer.

>>54491709

You're fourteen now. You've been in and out of psyche wards for the last two years, but things have settled down enough since the last incident to allow you to attend normal highschool.

You hear the class stifle a laugh as Mrs. Norwick informs you that you'll have to rewrite your essay because she can't read your handwriting, which despite your best efforts is still a slow, painstaking scrawl. Your stomach sinks, but then you hear Bracelet's soft murmur from your pocket.

Hard to write well with a missing finger, Bracelet says. You ask him what he means by that, but Bracelet just giggles. You beg him not to get you in any more trouble. Bracelet just keeps laughing, and laughing, and laughing until you can't hear anything but his voice resounding in your skull.

They don't always listen when you say you don't need their help. Sometimes they're a little too rough and get you in more trouble. But you can never gather the courage to throw them away.

After all...

...everybody needs friends.

I suppose I should ask this since I don't know any better place to ask.

I'm in the process of writing a story from the perspective of an admirer who desperately longs to have a relationship with the object of their affections, but the admirer fears that they're too imperfect to ever be considered.

I've been going through the angst part of this all, and I'm just wondering if anyone has any tips on figuring out when the angst just gets too much. Right now, they're finally getting intimate, but the admirer's still in this state of denial and thinking that this is all still a perfect dream.

>>54493385

Best advice to just keep in mind the principle of cause and effect: everything important that happens in your story must have an understandable cause, even if that cause is merely implied. People change their way of thinking in response to observations challenging it of which they are incapable of rationalizing (at least, given that the character isn't insane or tremendously stupid). Failure to provide a reasonable cause for the change in thinking, or failure to provide a change in thinking given reasonable cause results in a broken narrative.

On a more aesthetic level, there's also the concern over whether listening to the main character whinge about whether anonette REALLY likes him for that long is emotionally satisfying for the reader. I try to always make sure that if I revisit some kind of internal struggle a character is having, the reader gets a slightly new angle on it every time I mention it, rather than just constantly going BY THE WAY, HE'S STILL REALLY MESSED UP ABOUT THING JUST SO YOU KNOW.

>>54491116
Seats?

File: HaveASeat.jpg (39KB, 680x630px) Image search: [Google]

39KB, 680x630px

>>54498959
Yes.
Seats.

>>54495660
Police militarization is bad m'kay?

>>54505617
Ah.
the twist was supposed to be that she was his daughter, and that it was her mother he was knocking off the last time he came through town, but, being an elf, he'd lost track of time & didn't realise that her mother had aged that much.

Probably in the wrong thread to ask this, but do any of you know the story posted here several months back about the tiefling paladin or knight whose group was questing for a goblet in a forest? It's a serious feel trip, with like three separate locations in the forest. Out of all the tragic questing to find this goblet and three parts to some spell, she's the only one that makes it out alive, and it wasn't even worth the reward. She ends up getting a nickname from the townsfolk, and its the name the campaign was called when it was being told

File: 273a35d9286c221b6294990d03cbf925.png (2MB, 1080x700px) Image search: [Google]

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Living has begun to bore me.

I cannot pin down just when I began feeling the ennui. Maybe it was when I understood how jealous my friends all were about how I would be eternally young. Perhaps it was the moment I began forgetting the faces of those closest to me. Or possibly, it was the very instance it came to me that I was truly alone in the world.

I already understood that I was not like others the moment I was born. My late father struggled to make sure I was healthy, so healthy that I became immortal - untouchable by neither age nor disease. Even injury became insignificant because my immune system was so active and effective that cuts and bruises that would take my peers days if not weeks to recover from would vanish in minutes when I suffer them.

It was only after I entered college that I think I realized just how powerful this gift was, and how much of a curse I bore. Everyone in the university thought that I was just some schoolgirl looking at prospective schools to enter even after I enrolled. I was underestimated at every turn, everyone thinking I was just a girl simply because I could not look any older. After I graduated, I had understood that nobody would ever take me seriously as an adult.

The moment I began to live on my own was the moment when time slowly began to stop moving for me. After all, I couldn't make friends easily. I was considered weird because of how young and different I looked. All I did each day was work in my own corner. As time passed, everyone I knew became more suspicious about how I never aged or ever got sick. Eventually, I was called a freak of nature who should not be alive. I was ostracized no matter where I went, so I began closing off things in my life. Work was meaningless when I did not need anything to survive. Friends never lasted once they knew the truth about me.

Then my uncle, the man who raised me, passed away. At last, I was truly and utterly alone.

>>54509596
As I attended the funeral, I was already being marked as an outsider. Those unfamiliar with my situation thought I was some estranged daughter of a failed marriage. All I got from them were stares of pity, if not distaste. There were a few, however, who remembered that I had once lived with him. I was called a curse, the burden of a careless younger brother. Of course, there was far more to the story than they ever knew. I could have told them about the government projects that gave birth to me, about how there were corrupt officials who assassinated my father for refusing to let them experiment on me. What good would it do, though? My father's sacrifice ensured that the scandal was brought to light and the officials were locked away, erasing any accounts of my existence to protect me. My relatives have already set their opinions in stone, and I no longer have anything to bond to.

I watched my uncle get lowered with the same plain expression that has been on my face since birth. I could not find the strength to cry for the man who gave me everything. I could not find the words to thank him for all he did for me. All I could do was watch the world turn, just like it always will.

After the funeral, I had nothing left. Friends have cut themselves off because I was not like them. Family could not possibly know what I was without endangering themselves. Even my thoughts began to lose meaning as they began blurring together to form a hazy indistinct mist. If I had nothing left to live for, then why should I even live? Old age will always be a fantasy, as will having a normal life. A family would only mean cursing another child with what my "gift". At least alone, I need not worry about anything.

At some point, I found myself in the middle of a lake. Surrounding me were merely leaves touching the water's surface. Leaves simply swayed with the breeze. The water stood perfectly picture-still, trailing only when I walked in.

File: 969f0893413dbf0c869e791bdffbeb77.jpg (550KB, 1500x1636px) Image search: [Google]

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>>54510608
I look at the water and see a face behind, youthful, but artificial like a doll. I can only vaguely recall my face looking like this. Again, I try to make myself feel any emotion, something to break this frozen face, but nothing happens.

When it fails, I am convinced that perhaps I need not even be awake if even there was no difference between each day. Perhaps I can sleep forever, only awakening when I can actually feel time moving again.

I submerge myself into the lake. As I look up at the surface, I see the sun's light dyed in the color of leaves. I feel my chest suffocating as I refuse to allow myself even a moment's breath. My sight slowly grows hazy, and eventually, my eyes close.

At last, there is silence.

My eyes slowly drift open, and I see...the water's become...darker. Has night fallen already? My vision slowly returns to me. All around me are cold, grey walls. I try to reach out and tap something. Glass. Have I...been put in a tank?

As the revelation hits me, I feel my chest explode. I feel all the air in my chest burst out and I cough, hitting myself on the glass countless times. For some reason, I can breathe in this water. Is this all a dream?

I do not notice someone appearing in front of me as I ponder this existential question. It is the sound of a muffled voice that alerts me to his presence. His hair is cut alarmingly short, his moustache seems to be very messy. Based on the white I see on him, I can assume he is some sort of doctor. Despite this...unusual appearance though, I feel as though I remember him. The man places a hand on the tank as he talks. Curiously, I place my own hands on the glass, noting how wiry his hands are compared to mine. I think a smile appears on his face. Perhaps he is glad to see I am awake?

The scientist looks and finds someone in black. Without even noticing, I feel myself tense up. The man in black and the scientist begin talking, but it is not hard to tell that it is an argument.

>tbc tomorrow-ish

>>54508609
Please continue >>54482428 and by that atleast just one more part for the shits and giggles and awkward "family reunion" part.

>>54495660
Tank police the prequel?

bamo

>>54511307
Arms flail. Loud noises reverberate through the glass. The man in black takes something out, scaring the scientist. The shouting dies down. A few seconds later, the man in black turns around and leaves. The scientist spends a while looking straight at me. I do not understand why he looks at me so intently, but for some reason I feel safer knowing he is here and not the man in black. I am reminded of when I was with my uncle, I think the sensation was the same back then.

The scientist says something else before going to my side. He presses something, and suddenly I feel something from within the tank. I hear the water in the tank drain. It is seconds before I can emerge my head from it, coughing up any that I must have swallowed. It is only seconds after the water is drained that a hatch opens, exposing my clammy skin to the cold industrial air.

The scientist immediately comes to me and embraces me. I have no idea why, but it feels warm. I hear him speak at last, without the glass and water distorting the sound.
"You are everything I ever wanted in a family," he whispers in my ears. "You are truly a miracle I have been waiting for. I am willing to pay anything for you to live, even my life." His life? Why would he go so far? "You must live on. It is all I would have wanted."

But what if I didn't want to live like this? What if I find myself completely lost in the world with nothing to hold onto? What if all I can think about anymore are just memories that mean nothing? What point is there for someone with nothing to live? What value does me living hold?

I do not expect anyone to listen to me. After all, I am but a thing to be around, a fixture more than a purpose. However, that scientist managed to answer me all the same.
"You are the greatest treasure man will have," he tells me. "You are the Holy Grail of the human genome. By sharing this gift, mankind will truly become great."

>>54523608
"I know you probably won't remember this, but...I want you to know that you are the greatest treasure to me, to your mother, to everyone. Even if you don't think it, I want you to know just how precious you are, my daughter."

Daughter?
That man's face...the more I look at it, the more familiar it seems - like I saw it in a picture. The only clue I have to his name was the tag. Kirishiki.
But wait a minute. That's the name of...

The revelation knocks something loose in me. This was my father, whom I've forgotten about for all these years. I can't even remember a thing about him, and he's responsible for me being alive. At last, this memory knocked something loose in me. I remember what being happy is like. I remember what being sad is like. I remember what being loved feels like. I finally feel my face moving again, expressing everything I've locked up for all these years. Even if this was just some hallucination, I wasn't alone.

I have to say something. I need to talk to him, feel him in some way. I don't want to forget again. I want to do something so I can remember him. I stretch my arms around to grab him, but...my arms look so small. Why do I...the glasses. My face is reflected in them, and it looks so small too. I have become a child. How fitting that I take an image befitting my feelings. I never knew what it was like to be one.

I can only hope I can remember his warmth if I ever wake up. It's been so long since I felt anything, warmth, happiness, tears, even the pain of longing to see him even once.
"Please...live, Sadasako."

I feel my eyelids weighing in on me. My heartbeat feels fast. I guess I must have tired myself out just crying. Before I forgot about this dream, I respond to his wish.
"Thank you, father. I'll live. I'll make you proud. I promise."

Soon the sensation of someone by me vanishes. Again, there is silence.

However...something is off this time. I do not feel content like before. The lack of warmth bothers me.

>>54527176
I have been alone for so long, so how come it bothers me now? Has seeing my father affected something so deep inside of me?

I begin feeling thumping. It feels harsh, uneven. My entire body feels it, and my heart never seems in sync with it. My head also hurts. Maybe it has to do with the thumping...

Wait.
I feel no water. Rather, I feel like I am wrapped up in a bag.

For what feels like a second time now, I feel myself hacking my lungs out as water expels itself from my lungs. That sensation of being wrapped up also feels quite apt, as I feel unable to move. Wait. I feel something cool on my nose. Nowhere else, just this little spot.

Was I wrapped up in a bodybag? The sensation feels like it. I am answered as the zipper is pulled down, exposing me to bright lights. By the time my eyes adjust to the light, I see three people in a cramped room, probably an ambulance. Two of them look like doctors. They shout the loudest, asking how it is possible I survived drowning. The third looks like some boy covered by a wool blanket. He must have found me in that lake. My only question is how he found me.

It is hours before I stop getting carted around like an experiment. Despite my insistence, I am checked on by countless baffled doctors. Everything about me is documented: heart rate, reflexes, blood sampling. They even ran me through an MRI scan just to make sure I was alive, and as predicted, all I got was a clean bill of health.

By the time I am finally left alone in a cheap hospital bed, I find only the boy by my side, still wrapped up in that blanket. His orange hair seems to have dried.
"Y-you're not human..." He shivers from the cold. "Y-you were frozen under there. I f-felt your pulse."
"Then why did you save me?"
"That lake...I swim there sometimes. I was just floating when my foot brushed up on...your hand." He grabs my hand again. His grip still feels cold. "What are you?"
"Do you really wish to know?" He nods. "Sadasako Kirishiki."

>>54528686
"Kirishiki...as in Doctor Kirishiki..." Someone knew about my father? "I heard stories about some big project in the field of genetics when he suddenly vanished. I've... I wanted to find out more about it, but there's nothing left..."
"Why are you so interested?" I ask.
He looks straight at me. "I heard all sorts of stories about his work. Supposedly, his work in genetics was supposed to revolutionize everything we know about the human body."

I am reminded of my visions. Even if I cannot put them properly into words, I can recall hearing my father. I am a Holy Grail. I could do a lot of good for humanity. Maybe just by meeting this boy, by having him rescue me, I have given those doctors all they need to begin the revolution my father staked his life on.
I ask him, "What is your name?"
"Ken."
"Ken," I propose, "what if I were to tell you that Ichiro Kirishiki's great magnum opus was in this very room?" I gauge his shocked expression. His eyes dart around the room, looking for something that might look like some great miracle to medicine. He finds nothing. I then inform him, "Ken, that magnum opus...it is me."
"What?" His surprise is predictable. Compared to some syringe meant to cure the world's diseases, I know I look unimpressive. "How?"
"You already saw how," informed I. "I am immortal. Disease means nothing to me. Age is meaningless. Cut my finger, and the wound will vanish within seconds. Break my arm, and it will break itself back into place."

I see Ken's eyes wide in awe. I am not sure how much my father's work meant to him, but I hope I am doing the right thing by telling him the truth.

"Ken, I want you to promise me something." He looks at me, his eyes narrowing a little. "I...do not want to be a lab rat. I do not want to be locked up in a room so they can take me apart forever."
"But...who would do that?"
My eyes stare straight at him. "I want you to promise me." He nods, intimidated by my gaze. Good.

>tomorrow. again. continue.

It's always nice to find the thread still here after I've been away for a bit. Better still, we seem to be getting a decent number of stories this time around.

>>54458574
>>54476115
This was pretty cool. Your world-building is really good. You clearly put some real thought into the trolls and their environment. Your characters - yeah, they were okay. I was mildly interested in Damaris but I wouldn't say I was gripped by what was going to happen to her. Clea seems like a fairly basic antagonist. The general thread of the plot was okay but I feel like the whole thing is, as you say, still a bit rough around the edges.

Your writing works. I think you over-wrote your sex scenes, though. Less is generally more when it comes to that sort of thing; yours seems a bit flowery. I didn't notice the thing with the commas until it was pointed out, and even then I don't really think it's a big deal.

Overall, not perfect but pretty good and worth the read.

>>54528973
With a captive audience in Ken, I was able to regale him of the circumstances that brought me to this world - the conspiracy that took my father from me, the miracles that I held in my blood, and the curse that I bear for them. From there, I decided to ask what year it has been.

When I went into that lake, it was 2040. Ken came across me one year later. The moment he showed me the time on his phone, another revelation came to me - I was over 40 old. I knew that I had lost track of time, but it was funny to see just how much had passed me by. It was fortunate that I realized all this as soon as the hospital's visiting hours ended, because I think I floored Ken with the revelation that I was old enough to be his mother.

The next morning, I was visited by the police. They asked some basic questions - how did I survive drowning, did I remember who did this, did I possibly have suicidal tendencies. They asked where my parents were, then who my legal guardians were. My answers didn't satisfy them, so they became condescending. If there was no serious cause for this, then it had to be a spoiled brat's call for attention. They demanded to look through my files.
Their tune changed when they realized that I was the niece of former Commissioner Kirishiki. Apparently, they all knew the stories about the Commissioner's Shadow, a suspicious-looking high-schooler who always wore a gasmask that acted as his eyes and ears in the most dangerous of situations. The fact that I was that shadow came as a surprise to them all, who supposedly grew up idolizing my past. I was flattered further when they began asking me questions about my uncle. Apparently, when they joined, he was already retiring. Fortunately, I still managed to recall some of the stories my uncle told me in between cases.

By the time Ken arrived, he was terrified. He barged in front of me, trying to plead my case despite being clueless. It was a bit silly of him, but I felt glad someone was protecting me.

>>54541016
Hey Chronicler, I guess I fhsould first say thanks for once again publishing my previous story into the wiki:

https://1d4chan.org/images/3/39/LandOfCloudAndMists.png

And second, I also wana tell you that said story I posted above is also linked to my Cedna Accord setting:

https://1d4chan.org/images/d/de/TheDeclarationOfSurrendependence.png

So if you get into the wiki again to update the storythread page in 1d4chan.org. Kindly please make a clarification that "Land of Cloud and Mists takes place in the same setting as "The Decleration of Surendependence."

Thanks.

>>54544160
Before I could clear up the situation, however, a third interruption came to the fore - one of the doctors. I knew why they were here; my physiology was too unique, too unbelievable. They wanted to know my secrets. I accepted and followed the doctors to a conference room.

The doctor passes the files for me to read. "I...don't want to sound incredulous, Miss Kirishiki, but the fact that you recovered from drowning just like that is just...impossible."
"I get that a lot."
He continues on, as if he did not hear me, "And then there's the matter of your antibodies. To be frank, they've mutated in such a way that I don't think anyone can even begin to describe how effective they might be. The fact that they can apparently slow your aging process to a standstill is a testament to how powerful they are."

"What do you want?" I feel that if I let him continue, the entire day would be spent just hearing him gush about the discoveries he made.
He stops. "Sorry. This is all just incredible. It's like I stumbled across the greatest mystery in the medical world." By all the mayhem around me, it seems like I really am. "I need to be honest. I...want to study you more. There's something inside you that must be told to the world, and I know that if can find it, we can save a lot of lives." Before I can answer, he then adds, "Of course, that is if you want to. I'm not sure if I'd be imposing on you to volunteer."
It goes without saying that I still feel wary. After all, I have no idea just what the extent of this research is and what he plans to do with it. It has been something that has kept me from a lot in life, being paranoid that someone just might know about the conspiracy that took my father. My uncle made every effort to protect me under this pretense, and it just latched onto me soon after.

But it has been over 40 years since that day. Nobody who was involved is still around. All that remains of it all is me, and I can choose to end it.

File: gasmask_stencil_by_clownfacedrapist.jpg (137KB, 774x1032px) Image search: [Google]

137KB, 774x1032px

>>54546226
"I...do not know much about how I became what I am," I confess to the doctor. "A lot of my father's notes were lost, and I fear that at this point they can no longer be recovered. The only thing left of that legacy is in my body."
"Your father? What happened to him?" This one does not know about his work. I suppose he does not work a lot with genetics?
"I am the product of his work." I hand back the papers. "Once upon a time, he was targeted by a corrupt person who wanted to take me away from my family. The corrupt person was powerful and he knew a lot of people. One of those people made sure that my father would never come to rescue me."
He is left speechless. "Assassination...but...then..."
"I would not be here were it not for the help of my uncle. He worked with the police, and he knew the right whistle to blow in order to stop the corrupt man. In the end, I was brought to my uncle's custody."
"You're really the daughter of Ichiro Kirishiki..." I nod. "I had thought it strange you showed up, but...if that's all true then you must be his life's work."
"I am the one gift he gave to the world." The words came to me. "If you can promise me that you will use what you learn to help the world, then I will accept your assistance."

I return to my room shortly after to Ken's panic. He was worried about some government conspiracy coming to take me away. Just hearing it felt...peculiar. Perhaps I heard it before. Ken then gave me an item one of the officers left behind: he found...my gasmask? I left it behind when I left my uncle. I could no longer work for him if I was at college, so I wanted him to keep it as a reminder. How did some officer get it?
Ken explains that there was an estate sale not long after my uncle passed away. No doubt the mask was put up for auction as well. How fortunate that it fell into the hands of this one officer that followed the call for help. I guess I should thank him for keeping this precious possession.

>>54546686
I try to fit the straps through my hair, for some reason it feels harder than I recall. Thankfully Ken helps out and the mask is placed back on my face. It fits exactly like it did 20 years ago. My breath sounds the same as it did. Just like I stepped right into a picture of my past.

"You look kinda creepy, Sadasako," Ken comments as he sees my face.
"I had to wear this to be safe. Same with sleeves and gloves." As I exposit the facts about this mask, I rotate my head around. After not wearing it for so long, it feels a bit weird. "The lenses were only available in this color, and the filters were cosmetic for the most part. Also, there's a miniature camera mounted right in the middle of the face. We use it to record investigations."
"So that story was true," it comes to him, "but why? Why'd you risk your life like that?"
"I...owe a lot to my uncle. He was my father when my real father died. He was the one who made sure I go to school each day. He was the one who always helped me feel better. It was only natural that I ask to volunteer to help him. Though I did not know much about forensics when I asked, he said that I could still help by documenting and recording everything in the crime scene. Sometimes though, I had to fight too"
"But weren't you scared?"
I pause. I cannot say that I know fear that well. After all, most of fear comes from a fear of dying. If one cannot die, then what is there left to fear? But...would he care? "It...sometimes is uncomfortable." For some reason, he takes my mask off. Ken notices my gaze not look straight at him. "I saw a lot of death in my time, and sometimes...I find I can never forget."

That strange boy suddenly grabs hold of my hand. What was he trying to prove? Was he trying to show he is unafraid?
"It's okay to be scared, you know?" His assurances are pointless, but it feels nice. "I'll be here."
"Thank you."

>>54547214
"Um, if you don't mind..." I hear him go on, "Once you...once you're let go from here, I'd be happy to show you around. I'm sure you'd appreciate knowing your way around." He is so innocent in his insistence on being with me. I find it a bit endearing. He even smiles like an innocent kid.
"So you can even smile like one too, huh?"
"Huh?" What did he just say? "Smile like what?"
He giggles. "Like a girl!" He takes his phone out to show me a picture. Impossible hair that is overdue for a cut, a fragile face, and...a smile...

I can actually smile now.
Something must have gotten loose from me if this can happen. I do not know why, but I feel happy that I can live on now. I have something to look forward to and someone to be with after so long. I have feelings I can discover and learn about. I can be more than just a holy grail or an investigator - I can be a person for once in my life.

I reciprocate Ken's gesture, hoping the smile can stay.
"I would be happy to accompany you." Just saying that makes Ken smile more. Strange, that.
"Yeah, well... We'll talk later about it, right?"

My father's miracle will live on now. I understand now why he made me like I am. I was not supposed to just be proof that one can tamper with the force of life. I was not just a demonstration. Underneath all that I was still a child, and now I think I can understand what being childish means. I think this is what he wanted most of all.
I will still help the doctor with his research, I know he wants to save lives with my blood. I will still visit the police to tell tales about my time with my uncle. But now, I have someone to return to now, and I think I am happiest about that above anything else.

I can finally feel time moving again, and I know why: Because I can live on how I want.

>>54490167

That formula = kek

>>54551286
Its typical or even default male human emotion if you ask me: Irate and butthurt.

>>54453458
"You're certain the armory is this way?" Sir Patronis asked, giving his nervous horse an affectionate pat on the neck to steady its nerves. The hedge golem nodded and pointed again for emphasis, Patronis's sword clenched between its leafy fingers.

"Thank you my kind creature!" Patronis said, and holded out his hand. "My weapon if you would. The golem shook its large head, loose leaves fluttering to the ground. It pointed at the sword before turning its free hand to point a thumb towards the earth.

"Are you suggesting my blade is of inferior quality?!?" Patronis asked, insulted. The golem nodded its head once. "And you are a authority on swords are you?" Another nod from the golem. "I'll have you know that the sword you hold between your leafy digits is an ancient family heirloom, passed down for generations! It's worksmanship is unparalleled!" The golem's head jerked slightly, the sound of creaking wood suspiciously similar to a snort. Patronis nudged his horse to move forward and he reached for the weapon. The golem moved his hand up, keeping the weapon out of his reach. It again shook its head, giving the weapon a thumbs down before pointing towards the armory and giving a thumbs up.

"Release that weapon at once or I will burn you to ashes!" Patronis roared, flame crackling around a clenched fist. The golem froze, looking between the sword and the flames for a moment before offering the weapon back, hilt first. Patronis reached for it again but in one move the giant golem threw the sword down the path to the armory and ran for the distant trees. Patronis' amount, startled by the creature's sudden movements, reeled back with a whinny of fear, throwing Patronis to the ground. Sitting upwards, he saw the golem give him a rude gesture before disappearing amongst the trees. Picking himself off the ground he shook his head.

"Damned golems," he muttered, and went to look for his frightened animal.

>>54575371
I remember someone writing a funny little piece about how two elephant traders were discussing where the fuck all these elephants would disappear to ontop of these tiny plateaus with the monks once every year. It was a little whimsical. Wonder if it ever made it into chronicles?

>>54563952
"Agent Hellcat? Agent Hellcat, report!"
To say that the shouting over the commset was all that kept the cybernetic Agent Hellcat awake and distracted from the incredible pain she was perhaps giving the other person over the comms insufficient credit. She was just barely holding on as she struggled to walk through the emptying streets. After all, missing an arm and getting shot was pretty hard to hide.

"Louder please..."
"Hellcat?" That was the first time she said something. "Hellcat, where are you?" She groans as she forces her head up. "Hellcat? Stay with me now."
"Market..." Her good eye immediately scanned for any minute detail. Advanced scanners and cameras pierced through rain and the midnight fog for any clues from the light-up signs infesting the streets. Once she picks up a street sign, her brain begins racing as it digs up an entire live map of the city, tracking every street to find where she was.
As Hellcat got to Market, she hears another warning about her critical injuries. It didn't help her when she got her arm blasted off by those terrorists and their rocket, and it didn't help now that she was bleeding out in the middle of the street. It just buzzed in her head with that same irritating calm voice. She had wanted to disable this damn thing for years now, but the department just had to keep calling such an action illegal.
"Market...Stanton..." She found a signpost just in time. Her leg finally gave out. The streak of red trailing her became a lake as she sat there, breathing hard. She couldn't ignore the pain any longer. She collapsed seconds later, her only sight the raindrops falling on the streets.

Somewhere between flashes of consciousness, someone huddled over her. With her consciousness fading, the only thing she could see were a conspicuous pair of cat ears.

Agent Hellcat releases a breath she didn't know she had pent-up. She only feels welcome...

>>54445442
Bump

>>54581957
The next time Agent Hellcat woke up, she found herself in a hospital, the time 10:20. Her arm was hooked up to some blood and IV drips. Her missing arm bandaged up, though not yet replaced. Her other arm was armored-down though. Rather than being strapped to heaving blocks of steel and firepower, her arm instead looks exposed; a simple mix of wiring and framing, it very clearly looks nothing like a normal arm - the point where her arm was cut off was even visible. Lifting her sheets revealed her legs, prosthetic below the knee and barely human-like in appearance. The plating she had to protect her legs was also easily removed, and those gunshots she took through her thigh seem to have healed.

As she shifted her focus from herself, Hellcat found herself face to face with a doughnut. Boston Kreme, her favorite.
"Glad to see you're still kicking, Hellcat," the deliverer of doughnuts (aka Agent Jaguar) commented. He was definitely conspicuous with his helm that only slightly resembled a cat. The bed-bound agent snatched the doughnut right out of his hand and dug into it with ferocity. "You're welcome. Seriously, you can't keep doing this. You realize how much we have to pay for each of these ops?"
"You worry too much."
The other Agent growls. "You can't be so flippant! You've been getting into these messes more and more. Something's seriously off."
Hellcat finishes the doughnut with one last chomp. "What's it to you?"
"We've worked together for a long time. I know you weren't a big fan of the cybernetics, but you've pulled through. We're supposed to be keeping the peace here, but how do you expect to do that when half the time you're in and out of the hospital for all sorts of injuries? You don't even have limbs anymore!"
"They had rockets-"
"You caught rockets!"

Jaguar glanced around to find that some people were already listening in from outside. His tone lowered. "Look, you gotta talk to me. For my sake if that makes you feel better."

>>54586259
There was a silence in the room as Agent Jaguar tried his hardest to not look as intimidating. Hellcat spent it merely looking at Jaguar, then to her missing arm. For a bit, it looked like she was trying to will something from it, even a twitch. Nothing happening. She then focused on other arm, ponderously analyzing the various mechanics that the prosthetic composed of.

"Hey," Hellcat finally piped up. "How do you...walk it off?"
"Eh?"
"How do you get so used to the way you are?"
"Me?" asked Jaguar. "If you mean the brain implants, it's because it was either that or die. If it's about my arm, well...Can't quite say I've gotten used to it, even after all these years. Phantom pains and all. Why'd you bring it up?"
"Just dawned on me I've started becoming more machine than human." Her hands traced over her left eye, now replaced with an advanced scanning array. It was an injury she's had for most of her life, and the Agency offered to give her something far better. "I...guess I should be terrified. I lost my arm a year ago, my legs a decade before that, my eye even longer. I put on a a tail, and there's no reason for me to. Now...I lost my arm and I'm realizing that maybe all the cybernetics that I've networked into me just might be doing something to my brain."
"You haven't really acted any different from when we first met."
Hellcat's face only got more distraught. "Have I really? I don't really know, and...I haven't really had the time to think about it."

Were Jaguar's face visible, it probably would have shown the face of a concerned, doting brother. "So that's what's been eating you up. Tell you what, when you get out of here, I'll meet you at the rooftop. We can eat there, my treat."
For the first time since she woke up, Agent Hellcat smiled. It was weak, but it was finally there. "Deal. Hey, do you have any more?"
"Sure. Eat up." With that, a small bag of doughnuts fell on the bedside table. "And don't give the doctors any trouble."

Norsca - A cold bitter land watched over by a pale cold sun and home to a countless numbers of fallen men and other worse things. Bohemond Carrard wished that he were anywhere but here. A glorious death in service of the lady was one thing, but he had heard stories around the campfire. The Norscans were wont to sacrifice the dead and prisoners to their barbaric gods. It was a terrifying fate, and Bohemond wished -prayed even- that the norscans would be too unorganized to attack them at this vulnerable junction.

The combined might of the imperial and bretonnian navy was a league away from them, their coloured sails tauntingly close. The bretonnian yeomanry was almost finished with their evacuation. The only bretonnian soldiers left were a mass of knights, five hundred mounted men, their banners flapping gaily in the sea breeze coming from the sea of claws. In the right eyes, this scene could easily have been worth a tapestry or two, showing the might of Bretonnia as the lady smote down the norscan wolves.

Of course, it would be a big lie. Bohemond had ridden to the battle, accoutred by his father and with enough money to travel to Bordelaux. He was the third son in a family of famed knights, one of his ancestors, the legendary Leofric Carrard had dismounted the Duke of Bordelaux at a tournament once. Bohemond was at home in the melee, it was not an honorable place for a knight, but it had it's uses, as he had learned during this adventure to norsca. A mounted knight was of little help against a skinwolf, as even the stoutest warhorse would balk at close proximity to an abomination of that magnitude. Close ranks of infantry armed with halberds would fare much better against the poorly equipped norscans.

>>54595420

Bohemond was shaken out of this epiphany of tactical understanding as the sound of norscan warhorns and carynxes rent the air with their hellish noises. Underneath him Drego stomped anxiously, the horse's instinct serving it well. A knight's greatest weapon was his horse. Whereas a squire or a yeoman's horse would bolt at the first loud noise, a properly trained warhorse was a veritable engine of destruction. Their iron shod hooves and large bulk meant that they were capable of protecting themselves against a horde of badly prepared foes. An individual knight was a great warrior fighting as one with his steed. A company of knights was a force capable of winning battles singlehandedly.

Bohemond looked to the east and saw the main mass of the imperial infantry shift into position. The state troops had been busy, building a small ramp to place their cannons upon. there were twenty great cannons in the army. From what little Bohemond knew, it seemed that General Heinrich Ottenbach had stripped Reikland of it's great cannons to mount this expedition.

Rows of halberdiers stood at the ready, screened by a mass of handgunners. Blackpowder weapons were a devastating, if unreliable weapon. Bohemond had laughed at the things when he had heard the smoke they had made. He had seen them in combat at the Aesling conclave where the heavily armed chosen warriors of the Northern tribes had been massacred by massed volleys of Cannon fire and shot. The weapon was potent, but limited. The empire struggled to equip it's soldiers with blackpowder weaponry, and the flanks of the imperial forces were screened by archers or crossbowmen

It was indeed a very pretty picture, well worth a tapestry of cloth.

As the main bulk of the norscans arrived, they were greeted by a sharp series of booms. The imperial artillery was already at work. They would send countless men to morr before the day was done. Bohemond closed his helmet and sighed. Another battle was starting.

>>54589106
A few days later, and Agents Hellcat and Jaguar arrive at the hospital's rooftop as agreed. In Jaguar's hands were a bag full of more doughnuts and a frozen mocha latte. The nighttime air was a lot clearer this night, though no less illuminated by the tapestry of lights lining the city.

"Sure you're up for it this soon?" Jaguar asked. "Don't need to go this far. How about we take it easy, get to that billboard across the street?"
"Okay." She looks at her new hand, an artificial hand identical to its other in every way. Both arms even got cosmetic casings to look less skeletal. "I just need to stretch out. Get back on my feet." Hellcat heard a snigger from her partner, but ignored it as she hurries on her way up a nearby building's wall. Already, she felt a bit off, as she found herself leaning slightly to the left as she ran. As she hit the ledge, she tried to lift off over the ledge - using both hands sent her rocketing up and over. As she began the next leg of her run, she was already adjusting her balance as she hurried her way up with a quickening gait.

The two Agents reach the empty rooftop to see the billboard in question, displaying an ad for some vacation resort. All that separated them from their destination now was a few meters.
"So?" asked Jaguar. "How's it feel?"
Hellcat flicked her new arm around. "Weird. I keep forgetting how heavy these things are compared to the real deal. And they're stiff."
"Think you can make it?"
Hellcat used her scanner to calculate her odds in an instant. The odds for her making it seemed to have a wide range: 79-100%. "Think I'll be fine."

Jaguar makes the leap first. As he crosses the street far below. His arms stretch out, posture looking more feline as he closes in on the other side of the jump. Landing had him curling up, landing on all fours and loping all the way over to the billboard. He stood up once he stopped.

"All up to you, Hellcat!" The cybernetic girl brushed her coat off.

>>54595798
The ships entered the harbour of Bordelaux with a fanfare that bordered on hysterical. A big trading port, Bordelaux, just like L'anguille was constantly plagued by pirates. Ravaging the norscan coasts kept the pirates on their backs instead of their longships and brought much security to the coasts of the old world.

For his part, Bohemond was happy to get off the boat. He had spent the trip retching over the side of the ships or retching in buckets inside the cargo hold. The sea did not agree with him at all, and he was perfectly glad to be done with the sea and long voyages for good. He had earned his spurs and looked forward to living the next ten years as part of his father's household knights. It was as good as life could be for a third son. He would stay close to his liege lord and father, sharpen his sword, keep the peasants in line and marry the daughter of a noble from quenelles, preferably one who was easy upon the eyes.

The knights were invited to a feast, thrown by the venerable Alberic of Bordelaux to celebrate their return after defeating the norscans. Alberic had acquitted himself well in battle for the most part. He was not the fastest horseman, or had the sharpest lance, but he had a cool head in combat and had the talent - so rare in noble youths - of following orders in an intelligent manner. The process of becoming a Knight of the Realm was elegantly simple. A trained knight errant would join his liege for an errantry war, whether it be dealing with greenskins from the Massif Orcal or the grey mountains, or beastmen that occasionaly strayed in from the empire or the forest of Ardens. The hotheaded knights would try to win glory and honour, and go back home upon a wagon - or a shield. The more tempered ones would become knights of the realm, the Flower of Bretonnian chivalry, whose gaily coloured banners would trample those that raised their hands against bretonnia, or it's patron goddess, The Lady of the Lake.

>>54596205
As the summer sun rose over the farmlands about brionne, Bohemond was in high spirits. He had removed his helmet and was running his gauntleted hands through his cropped black hair. He had taken to growing a beard and a mustache during his campaign, but the results were unsatisfactory at best. After the feasting and merrymaking, his squire had led him to a barber who had shaved him.

Looking at his reflection on his vambrace, Bohemond was pleased with the face staring back. He had the Carrard look, with black hair and deep green eyes that looked like chips of emerald. When he was younger, Bohemond looked like his younger sister, Mathilde. It was a source of constant shyness and bullying, but now the feminine features combined with his warrior's physique made him look like a tilean statue. Yes, it was a good idea to remain clean shaven.

They kept marching throughout the day, passing by farms and the squalid villages that dotted bretonnia. Bohemond was apprehensive that they might be targeted by highwaymen, but his squires and retinue of men at arms were an imposing lot.

A full dozen powerful farmhands had followed Bohemond to the errantry war, and at ten had returned. Olys and Egber were dead from the cold and norscan axes respectively. The rest of them had accoutred themselves from the bits and pieces taken from dead friends and foes.

Jabert looked particularly imposing in his large fur coat and wearing the helmet of a Norscan huskarl. Bohemond's squire - Jacques- had confided in him that his parents had been stealing pigs and eating them for quite some time. It didn't matter. Jabert was a big lovable oaf, who looked like an ogre, and ate like one, but was good enough in a fight. Bohemond looked forward to seeing him as a Man-at-arms wearing the livery of Castle Carrard. These men had fought together for him and had been in battle long enough to not know the business end of a spear, they were as good as any infantrymen in his father's service.

>>54596579
Beren Carrard was a stern man, but fair. He had grown to be a great lord and knight in his own name, and had ruled the Carrard lands for nearly six decades since he had come into his inheritance. Growing up without a mother and a father was hard for a boy, but the duty of lordship and knightship had been a constant companion to him. As he surveyed the land surrounding his castle during the warm summer night, Beren felt at peace.

He had been a better father to his sons, than his father had been to him. The sons he had had ensured that the Carrard name would not die with him. Beregond was serving King leon Leoncoeur as steward, and was engaged to marry a noble lady from L'anguille.

Javert was now in the empire, as part of the Bretonnian retinue to the Ambassador to the Empire. Beren hoped that the unmanly ways of the imperials wouldn't rub off on him.

Mathilde was married and was heavy with child - a boy, the midwives said - and she would be a mother before the year was out.
Bohemond was last seen in Bordelaux, celebrating his ascension to a Knight of the realm. He would be home before the week was ended, and lady willing he would find a good woman to marry. A few short years of service and Bohemond would make a fine castellan.

So engrossed was Beren in his ruminations of his blissful family life, that he didn't notice the tendrils of fog that were creeping over the horizon from the direction of the faerie forest...

>>54596854
Ok, that's it so far. Let me know about my writing and if I can improve. Thanks!

>>54596113
Hellcat's stance lowered. Her arms reach the floor, fake metallic fingertips touching the floor. She bursts outward and her legs explode with force as she clears the rooftop in a second. A piston-like thrust shoots her skyward.

The Agent only noticed her arms flailing the moment she reached the apex of her jump. She immediately threw her arms outward the moment she began falling, realizing that perhaps she might not have covered the distance. A second later and her arms instead wrap around her head in case she lands face first. Just before she hit floor of the roof across, she rolled into a ball, allowing her to take the impact and get back on her feet...issue was that in rolling, she very nearly threw herself off. If it were not for her tail grappling onto a hatch, she probably would have.

As Hellcat got herself up on the billboard, she saw the food by Jaguar's side.
"Told you you shouldn't have pushed it," mutters Jaguar. "You overcompensated on that one."
"Shut up. You have no idea how many painkillers they hopped me up on." The drink is the first thing she grabbed with her tail, passing it over to her hand for her to drink. "It screws with thinking sometimes..."
"Still think you're turning into a robot?"
Hellcat looks down at her legs, then at her hands. "Well...I kinda am, but it's not like it scares me. What does is the fact that all I've done is just this. Government Agent stuff."
"What have you been doing with the vacation days?"
"Sleeping. My sleep schedule's all sorts of messed up."
Jaguar merely scratched his neck. "Jeez, no wonder you're scared about not dying as yourself. It's like you're Hellcat 24/7."
"Shimaji."
Jaguar's head cocked at her. "What?"
"Right now, just call me Shimaji. No Hellcat. Just for this."
It was rather surprising for Agent H - no, Shimaji - to reveal something as big as their name so flippantly. It was a rule in the Agency that the Agents never tell each other their names. It was a security measure they adhered to.

>>54477852

But then again, do I really know much about Vamir Farwyn? Asides from the fact that he once served the Theif's Guild before it was disbanded and abolished by the Viscount's forces; which Lucille also admits she knows, and that he is dating and courting my daughter? I admit I have not personally had any close conversations with the elf my daughter is dating and most of my doubts and suspicions towards Vamir have purely been on what alot of people say about elves being 'untrustworthy towards humans.' Or that 'they're coniving knife-ear scoundrels who believe they are far more superior than anyone else,' and agian, the fact he once worked in the Thief's Guild.

But alas, he is dating my daughter Lucille and I have not even bothered to have any personal one-on-one talks with him. And I guess as a good mother and parent, I must atleast get to know more about the elven man my daughter is dating with good hearted and honest talks between parent and lover. And to really have the feeling that he is currently a good man who has left behind his shady past behind him for good, and is a worthy man for my daughter. Since he is a good and hard worker judging from the exquisite metal works he has done for my abode and on behalf of impressing my daughter.

And lastly, because Lucille really does seem to love and cherish Vamir for being a sweetheart to her, HER sweetheart... And perhaps tommorow night if possible, I can arrange to have some talk with Vamir, to personally see for myself if he really is a good elven man for my daughter. And if he is, I can grant him my blessing to one day propose to my beloved Lucille...

~

End of short write-up. Sorry for continuing this late, was quite busy for the week with some blue collar work.

>>54596854
Bohemond could feel his spirits lift even as the faerie forest loomed up ominously alongside the road. The Forest of Athel Loren was a place of dread for the people who lived along it's borders. The dark and forbidding trees were terrifying and dangerous, even without the faerie folks that dwelt within it's reaches. As a child he had grown up listening to stories about the Wild hunt, where the faerie lords of the forest would leave their homes and hunt people for sport. Spring was terrifying rather than exhilarating for the people of Quenelles. The forest was always next door and the warmest days of the year passed with nearly all the men at arms manning the castle.
The hunt would pass through villages and towns around bretonnia, razing and killing indiscriminately before returning to the forest. The faerie folk had taken Carrard men back to the forest with them. Bohemond's grandfather had into the forest looking for his lady wife, and had never returned home. Beren had grown up being tutored by his chamberlains and lavished attention upon his sons, in a way his father could never have done. The family had lost it's most precious heirlooms then, including a sword that was said to be blessed by the Lady herself.

Crevon was a village that had suffered the attentions of the hunt, and it had never recovered. It was a pitiful collection of huts and housed perhaps a hundred people who dared to live in sight of the accursed forest and who farmed a few acres of land growing nothing in particular. What greeted Bohemond at Crevon was a disquieting sight. The village was choked by a sea of humanity. The fields were filled with peasants and serfs who seemed to outnumber the crops growing there. By law, Peasants were not allowed to leave their lord's lands without his permission. There was something worrying about the sight.

>>54599392
"Hey, what brought this up?"
"Just...don't feel like Hellcat right about now."

Her tail absentmindedly grazed at the bag between them.
"Take it," told Jaguar. "Already ate." It was no sooner after that she yanked it for herself and picked a sprinkle doughnut. As she nibbled on it, he asked, "So, what's supposed to be the difference between you and...Hellcat? Shimaji?"
It took a sip before she could formulate a response. "I don't think I'd try anything stupidly brave as Shimaji."
"Why the change then?"
"When I joined the Agency, I was in a really bad place. Sure, I was an acrobat with an attitude that let me ignore a lot of things, but at that time, all I had was my body. I survived because I had to keep myself in top shape."
He chuckles, "What, and having a 6-digit paycheck changed all that around?"
"Kinda, yeah. Know what I spent my first paycheck on?" Asked Shimaji. "Food. Not a fancy new apartment, not a massive 80-foot LED widescreen, just enough groceries to last me years...and even then, a lot of it went bad. No way I could eat it all."
"So your priorities changed?"
Shimaji sipped again. "Kinda. Recently, I've just been paying off all these debts and bills, maybe a bit of it for food. The wonder of having money just...wore off once I realized how much people target you for having it. I just don't know what else there is anymore."

"Ah, so it's one of those things." It sounded like Jaguar figured it out. "Our little Hellcat's finally run into a wall she can't climb over it."
All she had to respond with was a weak "'m not Hellcat."
"Well listen here then. You should take a day off, find something to kill time with, something you enjoy."
"I enjoy eating doughnuts."
He hesitated a bit before replying. "Ah, not sure it's healthy to spend an entire day eating doughnuts. Well, how do you keep in shape?"
"I run a lot on the job. Also lots of acrobatics." The blunt delivery made Jaguar disappointed.

>>54604791

The peasants parted before Bohemond's party. Jacques held the Carrard standard high, and the depressed mass of humanity was drawn to it like a moth to the flame. The listless mass swirled about Bohemond and his men, staring at him with dead eyes and mumbling to each other. Peasants would avert their gaze when their betters would deign to look at them, but all matters of propriety were forgotten here. It was eerie. Bohemond had heard that the peasantry of mousillon was so broken that they worshipped dark masters and would unnerve the most pious servants of The Lady. Was the malady spreading to Carrard lands as well?

"M'lord, have you come to protect us?" The question was shot from somewhere in the crowd. Bohemond couldn't make out who spoke it. Even on the best of days, mud covered peasants were hard to tell apart, and this day was certainly far from the best. The mumbling had increased to a murmur, and the discordant sound was pounding in his head. He had to speak. He was a noble son of bretonnia, and he had to take charge and show who ruled these lands.

"What is the meaning of this. Why are you not in your own villages?" The voice came out as a little too cool and imperious. It was a good attempt to mask his own fear of the situation. Ill fed peasants they may be, but they would easily butcher his party if it came down to it.

"M'lord, begging yer pardon, but we have no other place ta go." The crowd had begun to part and a somewhat less cowed down man slowly emerged to the forefront. He had the sense to keep his manners intact, and he looked at the ground as he made a little courtesy. "We thought that ye would be able to direct us since the castle gone down in rubble."

"What?" All his calm and cool had been lost. Bohemond was now suddenly looking his age. Castle Carrard had been a permanent fixture of his world, as solid and unyielding as the Vaults and the Grey mountains for the twenty three years of his life so far.

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>>54604889
"Exercise isn't just about your body. It's also about talking to people. Don't you have people to talk to?"
"I talk to you."

It looked like Jaguar had given up at that point. It was pretty clear how dull Shimaji was, even when off-duty. Nothing he said was going to change that.
"You know what?" He asked. "Fine. I don't mind it, and you look like you need the company."
This produced an unexpected reaction on the female agent. The bluntness of Jaguar's reaction gave her a sudden surge of self-awareness. She set down her drink. "Am I really that lonely?"
"Not surprised you missed out on it. If all you relied on was yourself, it takes a bit longer to start relying on others. Never thought it'd take this long..."
Shimaji cut in, "I trust the Agency to pay me."
"You know that's not what I meant." He snipped back. "You know how social people are. Cooping yourself up in your job like that, it's not healthy. I know that it's mostly because we don't have an even number of agents, but still. You gotta rely on someone sometimes, right?"
Shimaji then asked, "What about you?"

Jaguar probably would be smiling behind that helmet. "I rely on people. I trust the other Agents to watch my back. I trust my repairman to keep my ride in shape. I trust our arms-dealing mole to keep us up to speed on the underworld. I trust the cops to keep stuff calm while we do business." He wraps up his speech by pointing at his partner. "And I'm trusting you to not go off the deep end from now on, I guess."
Just hearing that caused a strange quirk in the normally stiff Shimaji's face. Her lip seemed to shake a little. It felt strange to hear someone actually say that they trust her.
"So," he said, "You feeling a bit better?"
"Yeah. Thanks for trusting in me, Jaguar."
"Sure thing," he began assuring her. "Anytime you need someone to talk to, I'll be on call. So...when do you plan on bringing back Hellcat?"
Shimaji finished her drink before looking upwards. The sky was starless as ever.

>>54605833
All that was there were the clouds, illuminated by all the light. "Maybe I'll take a day. See if I can't find something else to do with my time. Maybe I'll figure myself out by then."
"I could drop you a few places if you want, H..Shimaji."
"It'd be nice."

Shimaji would take up Jaguar's recommendation the next day, as she asked him about a massage parlor. Despite having such little of her body left, she took away the idea that she needed to take care of herself a little from Jaguar's conversation.

When Agent Hellcat returned to work the day after, she looked a little brighter than usual. She also found herself looking at Jaguar a bit. All he offered was a thumbs-up.

That was the first time anyone in the Agency could ever recall the cold Agent Hellcat smiling.

>>54604969

"M'lord, t'was a couple of days ago. We wuz lying in bed with our doors locked when we heard it on the wind." The man cringed as Bohemond looked at him in the eye. The poor fool was petrified as he stood there with his head bowed.

"Heard what you fool?" As was expected of a peasant, the sorry bastard was enjoying the fact that a nobleborn son was paying him attention. The man smiled, showing a few missing teeth and paused with the air of a master storyteller before continuing.

"t'was two days ago milord. We were herding the pigs back into the pen when this mist crawled around us. Living so close to the forest, we were sharp for any danger but we diddn't see the mist creeping up towards us.

Maiso an I, we finish herding the pigs, as quick as yer lordship likes and we begin to go back home when we heard it."

"Heard what?"

"Horns yer lordship, we heard horns upon the wind. We musta been far away from the commotions when we heard the sound of the castle bell ringin'. I made sure the pigs were fastened before we began to run. Reckoned his lordship wouldn't like his pigs eating the crops come mornin'" The man's voice grew lower and he ambled closer. Jabert moved quickly and placed him between Bohemond and the shambling peasant. The sight of a big man wearing a huskarl's mask was terrifying, and in Jabert cut a imposing figure in the squalid mass of humanity.
Bohemond was getting impatient. The peasant was taking up too much of his valuable time. "Get on with it man, or you will wish you had not wasted my time."

The man gulped and continued.
"The castle was gone, root and stem, it was dem fae folk that dunnit, m'lord. I began to run away as fast as I could before the mist came again."

>>54607593
As the day wore on, Bohemond's ears felt like they were on fire. People from several other villages had come to voice their concerns, saying similar things. Nearly all the carrard lands had been devastated, as if struck by a tempestuous wind from the sea of claws. Most peasants were ambling around, trying to harvest enough food and escape to quenelles or Brionne. In the span of a week Carrard had gone from being a prosperous bretonnian fief to a devastated land that seemed well on it's way to rival ill fated mousillon.

As the sun began to climb westwards over the sea, Bohemond took a deep breath and got up. He beckoned his men closer. Most of them were in a state of shock similar to the peasants, and he wondered if he looked the same.

"Listen to me. These peasants will be going over to other lands as soon as their wits return. They have little left here and there is very little reason for them not to abandon my father's lands."

"What would you have us do M'lord."Jacques was ever prompt, and had all the makings of a seneschal

"I want you to start chopping down some of the wood yonder," Bohemond said, pointing to a small patch of forest on the other side of the road, as far away from athel loren as possible. "The peasants will need new homes and defences, and I am putting you in charge of it."

"M'lord, why?"

"Because once they start building their new homes, they will not be so quick to abandon carrard lands. If they leave for service elsewhere, Beregond will inherit a ruined land."

"M'lord, begging yer pardon, but I ain't done something so grand before. The people might not have enough to eat, with all them taxes and tithes." Jacques said, unable, or unwilling to understand what Beregond was implying.

"Jacques, look around you. The only nobleman in these lands right now is me." Jacques slowly nodded as he understood the meaning of what Beregond said. Peasants keeping their harvest and being allowed to hunt would win over every one in the throng.

>>54608857
As it stood, it took a full day to organize the peasantry to start working. Bohemond helped mostly by bellowing at peasants, and being trailed by Jabert. The big oaf's costume made him a perfect fit for an enforcer. If any peasant harbored resentment for their betters, they would be reminded of their place by the Big man in the Huskarl mask.

Bohemond bid farewell to his men and set out for a lonely journey along the road to quenelles. It would be late at night when he arrived at the ruins of the castle. His heart sank he kept riding through the roads. The fields around it had been trampled as though a mighty warhost had passed through the land.

The wild hunt was far more than just a massive army. It was a force of nature, as terrifying and unpredictable as the floods in the river Brienne. All one could do was to pray to the lady that they be spared the attention of the enraged deity and his army of the fey folk. It was not unknown to find disembowelled corpses in the ground after the Hunt was ended.
A sudden panic seized Beregond. His father was a proud man, and to see him disembowelled and spitted like a roast pig over the ruins of his own castle would be a horrific sight to behold. Praying to the Lady that this was not going to be so, Bohemond rode the last few miles towards the castle, each jolt from Drego's movement more painful than the last.

His heart sank when he saw what remained of the castle. An earthquake would have been less devastating. The only thing that stood in the castle was the arch from which the broken porticullis jutted, like the broken tooth from a giant's mouth. All the towers, keeps and living quarters were just rubble, their defiant might brought down to pitiful ruin.

>>54609476

And there, among the carnage stood a site that would haunt Bohemond Carrard to his dying day. A disembowelled body was pinned on top of the rubble with a bretonnian lance. It had been human once, but it had been disembowelled to such an extent that it looked like the carcass of a pig.

The robes it wore were well known to Bohemond, he had seen them all his life. and the corpse's belt had a knife in it's sheath. He wouldn't need to unsheathe it to know that the knife was made of watery steel from the far distant lands of Ind. It was a gift from Leon Leoncouer to the lord of Castle Carard.

Bohemond stood in shock for a few minutes over the corpse of his father, before Drego's whinnying brought him out of his reverie. His worst nightmare had come true. His father had been butchered by the Wild Hunt like a wild boar that had been hunted for sport.

The next few hours passed in a blur.Bohemond dug a shallow grave with his hands, tearing the leather innards of his gauntlets. He placed the remains of his father in his cloak, and took the dagger from him. He prayed to the lady to guide his father to rest, and hoped that Beren Carrard would meet Leofric an Helene, the parents that had been cruelly snatched away from him by the Faerie folk.

Dawn was beginning to break over the sorry scene when Bohemond returned to the place where he had found his father. He hadn't seen the pennant on the lance in the dark, but now, in the early morning light, it was clearly visible. A shimmering cloth, like the ones worn by elven traders in Bordelaux.

Something snapped inside Bohemond's mind. The Lady had answered his prayers. His foes had left a clue His hands couldn't stop trembling as he picked up the piece of cloth and hid it inside his vambraces.

"Lady, grant me the strength to avenge my father and his subjects." Words choked inside his throat as he stood up. Bohemond wasn't going to cry at the spot where his father had die. He was going to avenge him.

>>54596858
>>54609829
You're doing good work anon, although I was a bit confused by the abrupt transition from Norsca to Bretonnia. Writing's okay - in other contexts I'd say it was a bit stiff, but I think in this case it captures the sense of a Bretonnian noble quite well.

>>54614002
yeah, thanks. I will continue it later

>>54609829
I heard this leads to Asrai NEET waifus

don't disappoint pls

>>54616176
where did you hear that?

>>54609829
Eyes half closed, Lidrana admired the way clouds floated on the surface of the pool. It was a mirror to the bright blue sky above, starkly visible in the forest glade. She crawled slowly towards the pool to watch her reflection.

A pair of bright blue eyes, set in the face of a young girl with the refined features of a highborn elf stared back at her, her heart shaped face framed by auburn locks that lay tousled around her shoulders and chest.

Lidrana watch the reflection for a few seconds, before dipping her hands in the pool and drinking the refreshing water. No spring ale tasted so crisp and clear. This place was her secret, and she had brought Durvael to share her secret, and something else as well.

Small clearings in the forest were a rare sight, and often the haunt of lovers and spites, and Liadrin saw the naked form of her lover lying next to her, his chest rising and falling gently as he slept. She smiled at his relaxed pose.
Durvael was a scarred and toughened warrior, who looke at home in the splendid armor of the eternal guard, but he moved with a grace that was as captivating as that of a Wardancer.

She had met him only a two decades ago when her father had died fighting a horde of Beastmen. Kyarno Daelanu who had carried the Spear-Stave of the hound of winter was dead, and mourning with her mother, Lidrana had found comfort in the arms of the warrior who had retrieved her father's body.

>>54628531
The ride back to Coeth Mara was rather uneventful. The forest paths were known to Asrai for generations, and they had nothing to fear from most of the forest. Apart from the odd dryad they had nothing to fear from the forest's wrath. Dark spirits stayed in their own groves and seldom bothered anyone who stayed away.

Lidrana's heart rose as she saw the shimmering lights of Coeth Mara in the distance. It was a sight splendid in it's natural beauty. The trees themselves had gratefully allowed the Wood elves to live in them, and nearly every branch was alive with the light of torches - expertly handled so that the trees might be unharmed. Dusk was creeping over the forest, and summer nights like these would be full of feasting, merrymaking and song.

The spites that lived among the trees seemed to be well underway with their own celebrations, their tiny pale bodies shimmering like fireflies in the twilight sky. Each and every time she returned to Coeth Mara, Lidrana was captivated by it's unashamed vitality. This was home, a place of wonders that could be loved and cherished.

At the gates of her mother's court, there was a surprise waiting for the young lovers. Lidrana had expected to be chastised by her mother, the redoubtable Morvhen Eadaoin about sneaking off to be alone or with her lover in some secret glade. Instead she saw something she had never seen before.

A horse stood there, in the stables. Not an elven one. The animal was too big and far too muscular for that. She was struck by how pitiful the animal looked surrounded by the fine specimens of the Fleetmane herds. The horse was terrified of the spites that swung about it's head, it's eyes shut and ears bent .
Lidrana walked up to the poor dumb brute and slowly whispered songs of friendship and courage in it's ears. After a while the horse stopped panicking and slowly began to look around her, before nuzzling her as though she was an old friend.

>>54628851

Lidrana was taken aback by the strength of the beast. This beast had been born and bred for one purpose only, to wear the heaviest of armour and to carry someone in the thick of battle. It was a warhorse, a mount of the horse warriors from beyond the forest. Her parents had had known a warrior when they were her age, but that was a long time ago. She wondered how the creature had wandered all the way to Coeth Mara. Meanwhile the horse turned it's attention to the grass growing on the ground.

Durvael came up to her while she was pondering the mystery of the strange horse. His tender lover's gaze was well hidden under his stony exterior as he beckoned Liadrin. Lady Morvhen was looking for her, or at lhe least wanted her to see something.

The hall had two royal Eternal Guardians from the Oak of ages. It seemed that Queen Ariel had a message for Lady Morvhen.

Lady Morvhen sat on the living tree that had once been her father's seat. She was a strikingly beautiful woman, and resembled Lidrana in both figure and face. She had lost both father and husband in the span of half a century, but had carried the burden admirably. Her son - Lidrana's brother Merhanu - was serving as an apprentice to Daith himself. She had grown more sterner in the years since, and Lidrana scarcely remembered the bright eyed mother that took her and her brother to go looking for frogs when they were children. Death aged even the Asrai, secure within their eternal forest homes.

Lady Morvhen broke the silence that seemed to have engulfed the hall. "Thank you honourable emissaries. You may rest the night here in my halls, and leave tomorrow. We shall do as our Queen demands of us.

As the hall began to clear, Lidrana noticed the specks of blood seeping into the wooden floor. she looked up to find her mother staring at her. She coughed to alleviate the dreadful silence.

>>54629224

Lady Morvhen smiled as she finally cast off the cares of the day. "Come child, tell me how your day was." Mother and daughter spent a few minutes talking over what they had done for the day. Lidrana mostly listened to what her mother had to say. What she heard was something of a surprise.

A horse warrior from the wast, bearing the same insignia as one that Lady Morvhen had seen in her youth had stumbled into athel loren. Half starving and enraged the man had tried to fight with the Dryads and had been beaten half to death before waywatchers had rescued him.

Since he had been found in Eadoain lands, queen ariel had entreated Lady Morvhen to care for the human, with someone she trusted,and to bring him to the Oak of Ages as soon she could. It was difficult to understand why the Lady Ariel wanted to spare this human's life. Perhaps the human's fate was linked to the forest's just like his ancestor's. Or perhaps Lady Ariel was bored of more mundane creatures and wanted to keep a human as a pet. It was hard to understand what went throught the minds of gods and their living incarnations.

Lidrana listened patiently to what her mother had to say. She had taught herself to listen before speaking. It was the difference between a foolish elf an a wise one. When her mother was done, Lidrana understood what her mother was asking of her, and couldn't help break into a smile as she said something that would be seared into her memory for the rest of her life. "Well mother, it seems that I have my own Human to go on an adventure with."

>>54629402
that's it for now. Any thoughts and advice would be appreciated.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1VO68gMOD1Y749HvHB_6KpeGv-IjIcGhbC62B8c-ziXg/edit

I need to finish this stupid story

>>54461494

"Which is it? The sword or a wish?" She asked in a tone as if she were inquiring if he preffered soup with or without meat in it. She held the glowing sword out for him to take it. Her wings were black with thorny bones and unhealthy vein riddled flesh in deep contrast to the maiden between them. Her skin was flawless, her busty bosom covered only by thin locks of blood red hair and eyes with black vertical slits for pupils surrounded by an unnatural glowing green. Beautiful, is what she would be called by those fairest. Demon, what she is called by any who dwell in the light.

"Well?" she asked again her full lips moving slowly with the short word.
"Is it even a bloody question? Take the sword boy! There's no need to hesistate. Grab the sword and we are a step closer to killing the Demon King." The Paladin shouted.
"Perhaps he takes the wish and wished the Demon King were dead. That would save us a lot of trouble and countless lives." The Wizard added.
"Well, that's certainly within my power... This time. Either way I am free of my curse." She said as a breeze blew a red lock aside off her now bare chest.
"I wish-." He began.
"Get on with it, I don't like dealing with this vile creature any longer than I have to." said The Paladin.
"I wish for a kiss from you milady." He finished.
"Oh you've got to be joking?" the Wizard's jaw dropped.
"You fool! You would kill us all and leave the world to the mercy of the Demon King!?" The paladin was fuming.
"FOR A KISS!?!?" The Paladin's hand reached for his sword.
"No. For a kiss from her." said the Virgin boy.

(1/2)

>>54630617

The succubus smiled. A toothy smile with a forked tongue poking out.
"DONE! MY DEBT IS PAID. THE CURSE IS LIFTED." The glowing sword of the Holy Saint turned to ash in her hands.
The Wizard began chanting but before he could finish he suddenly stopped as If choking on air and then collapsed onto the ground.
The Paladin, sword in hand sprinted towards the boy but before he could get close he burst into green flames. Leaving nothing but skeleton and armor scattering across the floor. Little bits of green flame licking at bone and armor alike.

"And now for you." her smile was wide,ear to ear with sharp teeth as long and as thin as a small child's finger with her forked tongue sliding between.
"A kiss?"
He nodded.
"I'll do you one better. For all these millenia after the Holy Saint cursed me to bear his sword and take no creature to bed." She stopped for a moment, her smile faded and her eyes took on a sad gleam.
"These past millenia have been... Lonely. It wouldnt have been so bad. It wouldn't be so bad if I had someone. Someone to stay by my side. Someone to never leave me no matter what."
The boy didn't hesistate, not even for a second.
He stepped forward, stepping on the Ashes of the Holy Saint's sword and embraced her with a kiss.
His first kiss.
Her first in millenia.
"Well atleast I know I'm not getting used goods." She said flashing a bit of teeth in a smile.

Although her curse was lifted and she could go where she pleased, the place she had been cursed to stay in for all those years had become her home. She never left her dungeon and he never left her side. Even when the Demon King's army marched forth from his dread fortress, burnt the lands of the living and enslaved all its mortal inhabitants. All except one.

(2/2)

Some criticism good or bad please.

>>54630617
>>54630863
its pretty good anon.

>>54475940
I like it. Noble warriors, enemy of my enemy. Good job anon.

>>54476115
Troll Porno has good story anon. Your knowledge seems to have quite some depth and I feel like they story wasn't waddling along and quite natural

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>>54482428
Expected sappy elf romance. Got father daughter incest. I read the elf in a Spanish accent I liked it anon.