Storythread

You enter a torch-lit tavern. The glow of the flames cast long shadows across the faces of the patrons, however the bard’s music and raucous laughter illuminate the place plenty. You seek lodgings for the night but first join the revelry to ease your aching bones from days on the road. You purchase a drink and sit at a table where people look to a weathered man. With attention on him, he begins to speak:

Horrible, strange, and wondrous things fill our world. Vile beasts, strange mists, and the people who struggle to survive. I have heard many stories, but tales of Lusitania the Grounder seem to find my ears no matter where I travel. Now I have only recently learned how she obtained that title, but I know of a Lusitania that matches your stories of a black haired and sullen eyed warrior. A distant kingdom marks her for death, claiming she murdered Duke Holiander. Although from what I know his death was caused by the return of Alveredo. You see, Alveredo was buried in the village he called home many years ago. Some years after his funeral, that’s when the trouble starts.
As it goes, the town of Holiander took up the name for the duke Holiander that saved the town from bandits and famine. Without requiring they swear fealty, the duke had provided a garrison led by the old warrior Alex Raf. For months the station had been quiet one where Raf could sleep late into the day. However that all ended the morning a young farmer girl slams on his door in those early hours where the sun has yet to rise.
I imagine the old man hobbling to the door, his stride improving by the time he arrives and opens it.
“Please, sir, we need you at Willian’s,” says the child.
The soldier rubs his red eyes. “Unless someone is dead, my men will sort it out.”
“It’s a wizard, sir. He commands the dead to move.”
At the mention of wizard, all exhaustion instantly leaves Raf. As with all of us he has heard of wizards and the despair they bring.
“What do you mean ‘moving dead’?” As he asks Raf has the girl help him don chainmail.
“The bones of men, sir, along with a stitched man tall as a house.”

>>54938468

The old soldier curses his fortune as he grabs his war pick and slides a knife into his belt. Now fully armed and armored, Raf Sets to rallying his troops. He moves through the town, hollering “Come! Brothers and sisters! Time for us to defend our homes!” The people respond quickly. They rally with heavy mallets, pitchforks, and other farmer weapons that have drawn the blood of bandits and arrogant soldiers that stray too far from their banner. Though murmurings of a wizard and the dead brought back to life shakes their resolve, they have courage enough to measure the wizard’s mettle. As they arrive at Willian’s inn at the outskirts of the town the band is forty strong. Ten men that form Duke Holiander’s garrison there and thirty villagers.
With the sun now above the horizon, Raf and the troops see their enemy. The cracked bones of people, bearing the rusted armaments from their kingdom’s battles. One of the villagers falls to his knees in tears when he recognizes a shield his daughter took to war years ago. A shiver runs down Raf’s spine as he locks eyes with one of the creatures. Thoughts of fear invade his mind.
“Surely this wizard must be a master of death to command bones to retake their form!” His hands begin to tremble. “Where is the stitched man? What other horrors can this wizard conjure? Does his magic have no limits?”
A firm grip seizes Raf’s shoulder and pulls him from the terror of his thoughts. A farmer leans close to his ear.
“Ought we tear them asunder?”
Raf does not look at her while breathing in deep and exhaling the madness.
“These are frightful creatures. I know not how we may fight them.”
“Richard, Grey’s son, says they are held together by fine, gold thread. I pray my eyes do not lie for I see them too, faintly glistening.”
Raf looks again with vision unclouded by terror.
“Yes, I see them! They wind around the skeletons and glisten slightly in the sun.”

>>54938515
The farmer nods. “I will trust our six eyes together. A thread is a thread and may be severed. A man who fashions unbreakable thread would attack and be done with it. He fears the quality of his work against our strength.”
Raf traces his tongue between his teeth and gently strokes the hilt of his dagger. He will make that wizard pay for bringing such fear to his mind.
The inn is torn asunder! The old wood shatters as a monstrosity tall as a tree rises from within. Shaped vaguely human, stitches hold flesh like tanned leather together. Bizarre proportions create a horrific visage that repels the defenders. A howl from the breach draws attention away from the creature. A man walks forth wearing a doe’s skull as a mask and a robe coated with bells that do not jingle as he walks.
The man howls again, rearing his head skyward and raising his arms as if to seize the clouds above him. The bells ring in unison, filling the air with jingling. The defenders know not how to react to this man and so stand with weapons at the ready. After a few seconds the howl subsides, his head now turns forward. The bells continue to ring until his arms return to his sides. A few more seconds pass with the only sounds to hear are one’s own heartbeat and the monster’s heavy breaths. The wizard removes his mask to reveal an unremarkable human face of thirty years.
“I am Gigamus, master of undeath. Know that only from the kindness of my heart do I offer you the chance to submit to my demands. Resist and you will all be slaughtered by my invincible warriors. Their ferocity along with my magic will make your deaths as swift as I desire. I do not wish for this. I ask only for your infants no older than a year and your pregnant women. Provide me these things then the rest of you shall keep your lives.”

>>54938540
As you can see, the wizard Gigamus is both cruel and cowardly, much like the knights of the double-eagle kingdom. However their villainy is tempered by interacting with their fellow man. They realize that not all are as cruel and cowardly as they and are all the wiser for it. Gigamus, being a wizard, has little time away from his incantations to find companions. Being vile, he forms no connections with the few he does meet. And being human, he cannot help but see himself in others. Through these things, Gigamus could reach no other conclusion aside from the villagers bowing to his demand when faced with the threat of death. For this reason does he feel comfortable as the old soldier in chainmail steps closer to him and his creations.

“Is that all you want, sir?”

He draws his war pick as he walks closer.

“Sounds like all I need to do is drive my pick through your skull.”

Gigamus laughs as his monstrosity steps forward.

“This child of mine has the strength of ten men. It will kill you and your rabble in an instant.”

When Alveredo had been alive he found himself in a similar position just outside Willian’s barn. He had to face a warrior famed for his spearmanship with only a dagger in his belt. Just as our hero, Raf, slowly approaches his enemy under the guise of conversation, so too did Alveredo. For both face enemies with great reach whether by spear or monstrous arms. Should they charge their opponent from too far away, they would risk being struck down before being close enough to deal a blow. So through words they close the distance. Their body trembles with excitement as they enter their opponent’s reach. Spearman nor monster attack, so confident as they are in their combat prowess. Too confident. And just as Alveredo had plunged his knife into the warrior’s throat, Raf slams his war pick into the monster’s heart.

>>54938556
With the creature’s scream a battle cry the rest of the defenders charge. Many villagers fought bravely that day against the minions of Gigamus. Orwen, son of Orwen, is the first to crash into the skeletons. A giant of a man he brought a wagon wheel into the fray, and with it, topples a third of the enemy in one charge. Shattered skeletons writhe at his feet while he reels back to swing his great weapon. Alas, these foes are not bandits who would be stunned by such a brazen display of strength. Fearless, the creatures set upon Orwen. From below, one of the toppled skeletons runs a rusted blade into his thigh. The hero cries out as blood flows from the wound and he loses balance. With his allies charging to his aide, another skeleton slices the hero’s stomach open and he dies soon after.

The rest of the defenders fill the wake of his charge, smashing the topples bones and trading blows with those that still stand. They fight desperately against merciless opponents. The young farmer Kelvin severs the head of one by slicing the neck as you would a man. The gold threads snap with a sound like metal being struck. He has no time to celebrate for from behind a spear pierces through his back. Grey, a farmer known for her love of music, slays thrice her number with a few swings of a heavy mallet. The first crashes into a skeleton’s chest, shattering the bones and leaving it a writhing mess. While recovering from her swing, another skeleton with a feathered helm raises an exe above its head. Grey quickly charges the creature with her shoulder, knocking it off balance. As she brings her hammer upon the tumbling foe, another skeleton tumbles atop its ally. The two are crushed in the single strike! She charges where the second skeleton fell from and fights side by side with the garrison soldier, Valen.

>>54938570
Amid the chaos of the battle, Gigamus pulls a crystal from his robe and draws rune upon its smooth surface. Hiding behind the body of his abomination he thinks himself safe from the defenders. However, Raf slinks through the battle, dagger in hand. He seeks the wizard who brought him to much strife. The old soldier could not pry his war pick from the monster’s chest and so retreated to his lines so to not face the horde with only a dagger. Now with the skeletons locked in combat, he spies a chance to slay their master. With a keen ear, he hears the wizard’s incantation through the monster’s breathing. Blade in hand he leaps over the massive body and lunges for the wizard’s throat. With a hiss, Gigamus casts burning pestilence from his mouth to the old soldier. Raf howls in pain as scorching miasma melts his flesh. In an instant, his head is reduced to a skull and he dies as such.

Gigamus does not revel in his victory for he hears the golden threads snapping and knows the battle turns against him. Cursing his misfortune, he completes a final rune that blinks him and his monster away. Shortly after this expeditious retreat, the last of the skeletons fall. The villagers lost nine of their number in all: five farmers, a carpenter, a shepherd, a travelling merchant, and a garrison soldier. They briefly celebrate with cheers, then collect the dead. Carrying her husband’s body, a farmer mentions that a wizard may have the power to raise another horde.

That night, some bury the dead, many set to building a wall, and one goes on the week-long journey to Duke Holiander.

Two weeks later, a dark haired and sullen eyed warrior eats her fill and laughs raucously with fast made friends. Her mother named her Lusitania and she tells the tale of how she has recently made a small fortune.

>>54938588
“I was travelling with a merchant who spoke harsh words about my snoring. Alas he had soft lips that could not handle a punch. Upon being struck, he called upon his men to cut off my hand. Several of them died to my steel before the merchant begged for mercy. Now, this was a very interesting position for me. You see, among my fellow Nozama, this situation would have us both fighting until the rest of the tribe intervene. From there a third person (usually someone respected) would help resolve the disagreement. How strange for me to not only have someone call for blood, but also surrender on their own accord before death was dealt! The fool was so eager to reclaim his pride and now he groveled at my feet. So seeing that it was on me to ensure justice be done I looked upon his wares. No, I did not take the cart. I have no idea how to fix such a thing should it break. And no I did not take the spices that he always talked so highly about. They tasted awful and haggling over price angers me. I simply took his fat purse, a sash that he always wore, and his horse!”

In the roadside tavern, Lusitania and her friends laugh when she tells them of the merchant’s wails. Together they share drinks and sing. They celebrate the night. Among the revelry, however, is one great feeling of melancholy: Press Murt, a wicked man from the city of Duhalla. A mercenary who thinks little of women for reasons unique to civilization and the comfort it brings. So committed to his hatred he calls out to the merry makers.

“I find it more likely you bed the merchant and stole his gold as he slept.”

The revelers do not hear his words and continue to make merry. Press scowls and swells his chest. Offended by their joy he stands up and shouts.

“I call you a whore, daft woman!”

>>54938600
The bard among the merrymakers looks at him, shocked. She believes the giant of a man hurls fury at her! Lusitania thinks the same but does not fear the mercenary. She walks toward Murt with clenched fists that bear the callouses of many fights.

“Do you insult my friend?” Rage builds with each word.

Murt walks closer.

“I insult you, whore. I think you stole your money through seduction, an impressive feat given your boarish body. Or perhaps the merchant was guarded by women as well? Maybe you were another member of his harem?” He quickly catches her coming fist. “See? You are the weaker sex.” Press draws closer as Lusitania relaxes her arm in his grip. “If I wish it, I could easily overpower you and rob you of-“

Lusitania does not give Murt the chance to finish his taunt. The Nozaman lunges her head forward. Murt screams as teeth rip through his nose where it connects to the face. Lusitania pulls back to tear what few scraps of slash were not severed by the bite. All ears tremble from his shriek. A few patrons laugh at his misfortune, others gasp. Lusitania spits out the bloody mess and glares at her enemy.

“You are terrible at smelling danger.”
With blood pouring over his mouth, Murt reaches for his blade.

“You mad cow!”

In a flash, Lusitania draws her sword and cuts him down. She figured him the sort to reclaim pride with violence and so did not let her guard down for a moment. What she did not notice were his approaching allies. The members of his mercenary company, the Earthnekt, had joined the crowd of onlookers.

“My friends!” He cries as he crawls to his leader’s feet. “I have been slain by this she-devil. Avenge my unjust death!”

The mercenary captain crouches to his comrade.

“I swear by my name, Jules, and Rathan above, justice shall be done.”

>>54938637
Murt spends his final moments laughing, finding joy in revenge beyond the grave.

Lusitania holds her blood-stained sword before her.

“How many more shall die to Lusitania of Nozama? Orelia as my witness this tavern will make a graveyard to hold your corpses!”

Jules takes a deep breath and shakes his whole body. A man of short stature, Lusitania knows she can overpower him quickly to have a hostage. A perfect plan for anyone facing a horde of enemies, but useless against what Jules does next. The mercenary leader touches his fingertips to his chest and speaks
.
“I, Jules, captain of the Earthnekt, offer you a position in our company.”

Lusitania points her sword to the mercenary captain.

“You swear to a man on his death, binding your word to your name and god. You vowed to avenge him.”

Jules spreads his arms.

“I swore justice would be done and it has. That man was a villain and was punished with outlawry before he knew us. His skill with a blade allowed him into our company. To us, he showed loyalty and never brought misfortune. As it was we had no reason to reproach him for any sinister deeds he committed. However, we cannot bring ourselves to slay someone who brought him to a just end.”

The mercenaries nod with some turning their heads. Lusitania lowers her blade.

“But why band with your comrade’s killer?”

Jules lowers his arms and rests a hand on his sword’s hilt.

“We have taken a bounty on the wizard Gigamus. You have shown yourself a greater fighter than Murt. We need that strength for this wizard commands the dead to rise into his service.”

The Nozaman sheathes her sword and scratches her chin in thought.

>>54938660
“As I am now I have no need of whatever this bounty may reward nor do I have interest in fighting the dead. My wealth satisfies my needs and I fear that against this mystic you will use me as an expendable pawn. Still your tongue, mercenary, for I have more to say. I recognize the man behind you. My grandfather told me of a man bearing a double-eagle crest of similar design and war. Sir, who gave you that crest?”

“My grandfather, Hildesh.”

Lusitania smiles.

“The name of the man who saved my grandfather. Descendant of Hildesh, I would join your band if you allow it as a way to repay that debt of my grandfather.”

The mercenary soldier smiles.

“Aye. I am not one to hang debt over a friend of the family. I would also love to hear this story of heroism.”

Lusitania laughs and the two grab forearms and shake. The Nozaman turns to the captain.

“Then things are settled. Jules, Lusitania of Nozama joins your party.”

The captain smiles and pounds his chest with a closed fist.

“Superb! Then let us drink, eat, and be merry! Tomorrow is the long march to Duke Holiander, and after that, the dead shall be cast back to their tombs. Bard woman, a gold piece for more music!”

Lusitania and the Earthnekt spend the rest of the night becoming fast friends. While a few of their number do not enjoy the company of Murt’s killer, that night they find plenty to occupy their thoughts. Afterwards, matters are quickly settled on their long journey together. Lusitania is fortunate to travel among warriors who seek simple solutions for problems. As such, a pikeman approached her to settle things through trial by combat. Lusitania, eager to sleep, agreed. Under the light of the moon and stars the two fighters prepare to fight.

>>54938690
The Nozaman seizes the initiative and charges the pikeman. He in turn braces himself to catch her. At the time he figured himself of equal strength to his opponent. Unfortunately, he concluded this based on her fight against Press Murt. What he did not know was that Murt had to strain himself to hold her fist still when he caught it. So instead of halting Lusitania’s charge, the pikeman was cast to the dirt by her assault. When she set upon her topped opponent, he locked his arms together to protect his head. Alas, he did not know that Nozaman warriors are experts at striking joints. So, when she was faced with two locked forearms, she drives her knuckles into his wrists. The pain drive the pikeman to yield and all matters were settled.

From that night, the band marches two more days and arrives at the town of Holiander. A thick fog fills the air so they proceed with caution. When they see the shattered remnants of a wooden wall the band fears the worst. After all, how long could peasants survive a wizard’s siege? Could the wizard have tortured them and learned of the plea for aide? Mercenaries grip their weapons tight. They strain their eyes against the dense fog, searching for monsters lurking in ambush. They move forward, footsteps falling on moist grass and breaking ancient bones. Closer to the village proper they see a waist-high earthen wall built to incorporate the houses into its defenses.

Lusitania sees a figure past the wall. Unsure if it be friend or foe she readies her sword and calls out.

“You there! Past the wall! Come forth!”
The figure walks forward through the fog. It is a young man in chainmail holding a halberd.

“Greetings!” he says, “I pray you be not deserters. If you are, I hope you may be willing to earn your spoils honestly, for our town needs warriors.”

Lusitania sheathes her sword and approaches the young man.

>>54938759
“I am Lusitania. I travel among the mercenary band called Earthnekt. We have been asked by Argoth Holiander to defend your town.”

The warrior hoists himself over the wall with a big grin on his face.

“Argoth Holiander? Be that the name of Lord Holiander?”

“Yes, I do recall him to be also named Lord.”

“Blessings of Rathan! I am Santilli and I lead the garrison here. Our people are having breakfast next to the tomb of the town hero, Alveredo. We shall meet you all there.”

A few hours later the two parties meet. They share food and in the midst of the fog they pray. Friends are made as they eat biscuits with stew while songs are sung. Lusitania and Santilli become fond with each other and together in a tight embrace. The next morning, Santilli speaks of his fear for the oncoming battle. Finding displeasure in how he chooses to use his mouth, the Nozaman brings his lips to hers. The two make love until noon comes and they hear the mercenary horn of battle.

All across town you can hear cries of “The south wall! The south wall!” as people quickly gather weapons and position themselves for battle. The daily assaults have trained the villagers to maneuver effectively alongside the garrison. This discipline born from desperation could repel the wizard’s forces whenever they arrive. However, on some days Gigamus would be taken by an evil passion of creation and weave together a frightening army of hundreds. The first of these killed half the garrison. The second slaughtered half the villagers and destroyed the palisade wall. And now a third comes. Greater than the past two combined, this legion of death comes with enough soldiers to butcher all those within Holiander, be they mercenary, soldier, or villager.

>>54938778

Jules breathes slow and deep. The mercenary captain nods to the priest. Clad not in armor but only green and red checkered robes, the holy man steps forward with an iron spiral in the palm of his hand. With the village natives shouting battle cries, none noticed the priest move past their lines until he already climbed over the wall.

The skeletons charge forward, brandishing their blood rusted weapons. Golden threads faintly glimmer in the sun. Their twinkling grows brighter as a chorus of shrieks fill the air. The natives hold fast against the piercing sound but the mercenaries howl and fall. The priest is the only exception. Among the onslaught he sings.

“O, Rathan, you blight this world with madness so that we call to you for guidance.”

The holy man’s voice smothers the shrieks as he channels the divine.

“You give us few words to live by except for one absolute: The dead shall never rise again!”

At the final declaration, he thrusts the medallion into the air. The shrieks fall silent and all those who draw breath blink once in unison. It is said that seeing the will of Rathan manifest in our world will cause your head to twist off your shoulders. So instinctually we blink when the god is called upon. I do not know the truth of that belief, only that the defenders opened their eyes to the skeletons tangled in their threads. The gold now turned black from the might of Rathan!

>>54938855
Lusitania charges first. Having been raised in the savage Nozaman jungles, she has a killer’s instinct to strike at the first sign of weakness. Her laughter resounds like a lion’s roar. The tremendous joy grips the hearts of her comrades and they join her attack. Weapons in hand they set upon the skeletons. Incapacitated as they were, the monsters do little to defend themselves. Some violently spasm or manage to lash out, but their weapons find no flesh. It does not take the living warriors long to use their helpless enemies as objects of merrymaking. They laugh as they snap black threads and encourage each other to slay their enemies in creative or humorous ways. Lusitania tests her strength by twisting one’s head until the threads snap. The mercenary Busey asks friends to hold up skeletons by their arms so he may bring down his mace in an overhead swing to try and smash through from skull to grain. Grey finds herself a spear so she may make a game of stabbing between their ribs without touching the bone. She finds so much joy in her skill she begins to sing! Many feats are performed that day with the unanimous favorite done by Santilli and the farmer Orwen. Joyfully they return to the village proper so they can rest. As they walk, Lusitania calls out:

“Come, wizard!” Come to Holiander and spare us the trouble of storming your lair! Lusitania shall grant you a swift death!”

>>54938884
The warriors cheer and a few approach her to tell of an old castle half a day from the village. The castle, named Willetta, once acted as a dungeon for the previous Lord Holiander. While scouting, the villagers saw skeletons coming from an old road that leads there. A plan forming in her mind, Lusitania sets out to find Jules with a proposition: Take the whole of the defenders and slay the wizard in his home. Upon hearing the plan, the mercenary captain touches his fingers to his lips in contemplation. He knows the wizard’s death would allow them to collect their bounty all the sooner. Victory on the same day as their arrival would also grant favor from Lord Holiander. However, Jules does not think Gigamus such a fool to hide undefended. Magical traps could make quick work of their forces and provide more bodies for his vile endeavors. With this in mind, he thinks of a new plan.

“Lusitania,” he says, “if you would be willing, I ask that you take a band of villagers to Willetta Castle and see what you can learn of Gigamus.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Why send me instead of some of your trusted soldiers?”

In truth, the mercenary captain would rather risk the lives of temporary allies than those he will continue to serve alongside. Being a manipulative man he quickly responds.

“I have heard of your hunting stories in the Romaturny jungles. That experience along with the villager’s knowledge of the local area gives me confidence your pathfinder abilities exceed that of anyone in my company.”

Lusitania smells the deception. While she did tell tales of her hunts, other mercenaries had impressive stories of their own. Not interested in playing a game of lies she finds a solution to appease both parties.

“I ask that you travel with us. It does not sit well with me when someone makes a plan but risks nothing in it.”

>>54938920
Trickery struggles before brutal honesty. Jules takes a deep breath.

“I am not needed here for command so I will travel with you. I shall appoint a temporary commander while you gather some villagers. We shall leave tomorrow morning.”

With Santilli’s aide, Lusitania quickly finds a group of villagers to form the bulk of the scouting party. Jules spends the night cursing his misfortune and going over things with his temporary replacement. The next morning the band meets at the south edge of town as the sun’s glow begins to push away the night sky. With breath visible in the morning chill they exchange greetings and make their way to Willetta Castle.

Along their journey, the villagers tell stories about the place’s dark history. A generation ago the last brick of the vile place was laid. A castle in name only, it served as a prison for the late Thomas Holiander to send criminals he could not ransom. Those with families of wealth would be kept in that Lord Holiander’s personal castle dungeon so he may profit from selling freedom. Those without families like yours or mine would be sent to Willetta Castle. In that awful place, they were victims to the cruelties of the Bell Gang. On days the nearby town (then named Monroeville) displeased the wretch Thomas Holiander, one of the villagers would be sent to Willetta. The scouts speak fondly of the day Alveredo led them to burn the castle with the Bell Gang shackled to the floor of their dungeon.

They arrive when the sun has cleared the mountaintops. Its bright light reveals the castle covered In emerald nature. As they carefully move forward, Lusitania hears a high, raspy voice whisper in her ear.

“I do not belong here.”

She draws her sword, starling the rest of her band.

“Have you gone mad, woman?” asks Jules.

“I do not belong here,” it says with anger.

“Lusitania! Your feet!” cries one of the villagers.

>>54938975
She leaps away and looks at her feet, spotting a faint blue glow rising from the underbrush where she once stood. The wizard’s magic! The Nozaman curses her fortune as she sees the world around her become dragged into he glow. She now finds herself in a well-lit room with stone walls, a glowing sword hilt in the center, and five armed skeletons w/ gold thread faintly glistening in the torchlight.

Lusitania seizes the initiative by charging a skeleton with her shoulder, driving the monster into the wall. Its ribs break from the might of her blow. Seeing the broken bones dangling by golden threads, the warrior grasps them with both hands. As a flail she swings the skeleton into its allies, knocking them off their feet in one stroke. With a mighty overhead swing she smashes her weaponized victim into one of its fallen comrades, sundering the two.

The remaining skeletons rise from the ground with weapons drawn. Spear, axe, and mace stained with the blood of battles long past fly towards the Nozaman. She takes up her sword and strikes the spear aside so that it deflects the other two weapons. A second swing slices the gold threads at their throats, unravelling the rest. The trio fall to the ground. Lusitania laughs and thrusts her fist into the air.

She whispers, “Glory to you, Orelia!”

Thinker her comrades to be trapped inside the enchanted sword hilt on the floor she slides it into her waistband (but not before poking it cautiously). Now with clear conscious the warrior leaves the room.

>>54939055
Lusitania quickly concludes she is within a dungeon. She cannot imagine the people of this land would enjoy sleeping in iron cages and she has been among those who call themselves “civilized” long enough to recognize a stockade. However, the Nozaman finds the spikes at the wrists to be barbaric even for city-dwellers. Despite the many torches and fresh paint on the walls, anyone could feel each brick of that cursed place soaked in screams and blood. Evil still lingers. The warrior has no doubt she walks in the damned dungeon of Willetta Castle. A turned corner leaves no doubt. It has been painted over, but color cannot repair scarred stone. Marks chiseled deep into the wall read: “Rathan take the Bell Gang with bodies not black as their souls.” A shiver runs through Lusitania as she hears long dead voices scream in agony as they burn alive. Beneath the obituary, a staircase leading upwards. With sword in hand and furrowed brow, the Nozaman marches upwards.

Faint chanting can be heard. Her mouth opens to a grin. A wizard awaits in his den of evil. Skeletons guarding the portal chamber beyond fall quickly to her blade. What a great story it will be to slay such a foe! She can barely contain her laughter as she slinks through the halls. Many more wretched dead fall silently to her blade as she draws closer to the chanting.

>>54939126
Within his ritual chamber, the wizard Gigamus curses his fortune while mindlessly invocating. His plan unraveled from the first day he arrived at Holiander and no plot after has corrected the failure. Now his body withers from magic. Threads from the tabards of the dead turned gold by a stroke of his tongue. Each enchantment drains his life. The wizard was content to wear down the defenders, but he felt the gold threads of his latest warriors turn black. Facing off against another wizard has forced his hand. Among the glowing runes of the ritual chamber he poured his vile life into a potion. Mumbling curses, Gigamus pulls a crystal from his robe and draws runes upon its smooth surface.

While conducting this ritual, A Nozaman war scream pierces his ears. Heart filled with dread he turns. He sees Lusitania! She stands at the portal with sword held high and fire in her eyes. He looses a scream of his own. Filled with fear he hastily draws runes but Lusitania charges him faster than his fingers move. Knowing death approaches he calls out.

“My monster! My monster!”

A figure hiding in the shadows leaps forward. The ground trembles from its massive frame. Lusitania hurls herself to the side as a monstrosity tall as a house with flesh like tanned leather stampedes past. IT turns and roars. That moment allows Gigamus the time to complete the ritual and whisk himself away. Lusitania has no intention to leave without a prize. The warrior turns to the monster and roars back.

>>54939179
The abomination strides forward. Lusitania hides behind a pillar. The creature smashes it with two clenched fists and looms over the stump. It peers through the rock dust as great stone bounce off its towering figure. Eyes stitched together to fit a great skull search fruitlessly for Lusitania has already crept along the base of the pillar. Slipping behind the creature, the only noise she makes is a grand laugh as she plunger her sword into the monster’s spine. It does not so much as wince. The creature turns to face her. The warrior curses as muscles she stabbed clench her sword stronger than she can pull it free. Weapon torn from her hands, Lusitania narrowly dodges a meaty arm. Her trained eyes focus on the war pick hanging from its chest. Before meeting his last day, the garrison captain of Holiander, Alex Raf, lived untouched by sorcery just as most people have. The war pick he wielded was just as un-enchanted. However, when it touched the monster’s heart it gained the abomination’s appetite for destruction. So, when Lusitania dashes under stone-shattering arms to grab the haft, the head tears through the muscles that hold it. The monster howls in pain, shaking the chamber with its agony. Lusitania grips the wicked pick with two hands as it devours scraps of flesh torn from the abomination.

>>54939197
She does not give a moment of respite. The warrior sets upon the creature as it suffers, driving the pick into its knee. The monster collapses as the wicked pick devours body and bone without discrimination. Lusitania arcs her weapon towards the monster’s head for a killing blow! Alas, no skull is struck for a meaty fist slams into her body. The attack had little of the monster’s full force behind it but the strength was great enough to knock the air from her lungs and cast her to the ground. The abomination hurls itself forward with a burst of energy. Gargantuan fists that shattered a stone column fly toward Lusitania as she still struggles from the blow she just suffered. She tries to roll away but does not have the strength to fully escape the attack. Death is inevitable.

Or at least it seems that way. The Nozaman props the pick against the ground. The flat of the head points to the stone of the floor while the shaft aims at the coming fist. The hungering weapon gnaws fruitlessly against stone as the monster’s fist hits the wooden haft dead center. The weapon holds! Lusitania casts the fist aside with a turn of the haft. A surge of strength surges through her body and she drives the devouring pick into the monster’s skull. The abomination still lives! It bellows and thrashes upon the floor, rolling onto its back. Lusitania scrambles away from wild limbs. Regaining her composure, she slows her breathing. Her heart steadies. She sees blood flowing from the monster’s wounds just as blood flows from hers.

>>54939259
“We bleed together,” she says as she charges, “Does your heart beat as mine?”
Both before and after its enchantment, the war pick could pierce deep into the monster through the point of the pick. However, no matter its disposition, the head could not penetrate deep enough to reach the monster’s heart. The haft would stop the swing no matter the force. Using the weapon as designed would never deal a killing blow on Gigamus’s abomination. However, Lusitania has another plan. The warrior weaves through flailing limbs, each one so fueled by agony that any could be a killing blow. With great agility honed from fighting such massive creatures, she reaches the torso and presses the flat of the head against the monster’s breast, right over the heart. The enchanted pick consumes tanned leather, muscle, bone, and the cursed heart that birthed it. All motion leaves the beast in an instant. Th pick becomes dormant, its hunger sated.
Lusitania fills the chamber with laughter. A raucous symphony of joy!
“Glory to you, Orelia. I feel your favor upon me!”
Radiating euphoria, she leaves the castle through the front door and soon finds a member of the scouting part as she walks upon the old road leaving it.
“My friend, my friend!” she approaches the scout with arms wide open. “I have a tale of great battle to share! Let us return to Holiander so we may drink and celebrate my victory.”
The scout is stunned by the Nozaman’s bravado but manages to stutter: “When the magic whisked you away, the mercenary Jules directed us to flee. He feared the wizard would soon be upon us. It did not sit well with me to leave you behind so I figured to wait until sundown in case you manage to escape.”

>>54939303
Lusitania slaps the scout on the back. “Ha! The castle is but a hovel to me. I have half a mind to claim your Lord Holiander’s home as my own! Come now, my boasts do not need such a look of shock. Let us return to the town so I may tell you of my adventure and you can decide if my skill could conquer Lord’s abode.”

Little did she know, her adventure has yet to end.

As the pair climb over the won’s earthen work wall, they hear an ear-splitting cry from the town center. They become part of a crowd encircling a young woman with a bloody knife and the wizard Gigamus taking his last breath. The young woman smiles. The crowd reassures and praises her. Soon the entire town is swept up in celebration. Their enemy has been slain. So great their revelry that they do not notice the stirring earth behind the wizard. That trembling soil would be the only harbinger for the return of Alveredo.

A hand bursts forth in defiance of nature’s claim. It presses against the ground to push the rest of the body from its grave. A farmer screams at the sight, alerting the others of the town champion’s horrific visage. With conjured maggots placing rotten flesh on old bones, Alveredo looks around in confusion.

“Why have I returned to life?”

The young garrison soldier Santilli steps forward.

“My lord, Alveredo, I have heard much of your heroism from the people here. I believe a vile wizard named Gigamus has cast a spell on your dead bones, no doubt with the intention of turning you against us for his own ends. Thankfully he has been slain before your soul was claimed.”

>>54939342
The living corpse nods slowly while scratching his chin. Several maggots are crushed in the motion, leaving behind a black ichor. Alveredo pays no mind to it. The ooze clings to his fingers as the move across the air as he talks.

“I thank you for recognizing my title. My family name may have been purged but I am glad our legacy remains. I will have to believe you about this wizard for I feel no bewitchment…Good sir, I must ask you of the crest upon your tabard.”

Santilli glances at his chest and laughs. “Ah, I understand your confusion! Yes, this is the crest of the Holiander family you revolted against so long ago. However, many years have passed. The current patriarch is a kind man who reached out to the town in its time of crisis. I do not exaggerate when I say he saved this place from extinction. So great his generosity they honor him by naming this town Holiander.”

A rotting hand grasps his throat. Alveredo stares at the young soldier with wide eyes and bare teeth.

“Damn peasants, too ignorant of the world.”

Blood pours over the hand as living flesh it touches rots away, becoming easily torn by the grip.

“They do not understand that blood is blood! We are born into this world as we are!”

Villagers and mercenaries draw weapons. They rush to Santilli’s aide.

“They are to live and die as swine while We shape the world!”

>>54939384
Alveredo throws the now dead soldier at the coming warriors. The body bloats as it arcs through the air. A villager reaches out to catch only for it to burst into a cloud of burning pestilence. Victims shriek in agony while the rest recoil in horror. Alveredo gives no quarter. He screams at the crowd and from his open maw a tide of black ichor spews forth like an encroaching shadow. First, it spreads across the ground. Then the forms of the Bell Gang rise with bodies as black as their souls. Cackling, they swing weapons that flow through steel and armor but sever flesh. The once revelrous crowd can only scream in horror with the ichor at their feet locking them to the ground. They are cut down to the last as Alveredo turns to attack the rest of the town. Instead he finds Lusitania’s blade piercing his throat.

Their eyes lock, both faces twisted in hatred for the other. Alveredo opens his mouth to spew burning pestilence but the blade in his throat blocks the attack. Lusitania smirks. With a twist of her body the sword cuts free. Another swing severs the neck completely. Yet the wicked heart still beats! Flesh-rotting arms lunge for Lusitania. She is not caught flat footed. Her blood-stained sword flashes through the air and the attack is cast aside. With a heart=shaking war cry, Lusitania thrusts her open hand forward. It easily tears through the rotten flesh. The might of the blow smashes through ancient bones. Her fingers wrap around the wicked heart. The hand clenches and all that remains are scraps between the Nozaman’s fingers. As such, Alveredo returns to death.

>>54939431
The warrior breathes slow and deep. Having heard the sounds of death, people are already standing outside their doors. Wails fill the air. Some run to the side of their slain love. Others cannot bear to move from where they stand. Villagers and mercenaries alike form a tragic choir. Lusitania feels a hand on her shoulder. She turns to see Jules looking up at her with a slight frown.

“If you wish to mourn feel free, but we leave for Lord Holiander tomorrow morning.”

She nods in response and is left alone. Lusitania turns her head to the sky.

Morning comes quickly for the Nozaman. She and the Earthnekt leave the village with heads hanging low. The fog comes in thick that morning. Melancholy lingers through their journey, but by the time they arrive at Lord Holiander’s castle they find their spirits recovered. The noble has audience with the band where Jules recounts their trials with a single interruption by Lusitania to tell of her battle against the wizard’s stitched monster. It is Jules, however, who describes her battle with Alveredo.

Holiander listens intently to the riveting tale, only moving when he hears Jules mention: “My warrior then removed her blade from the former’s throat so she may drive it through his cursed heart.”

Lusitania raises an eyebrow while the noble strokes his chin.

“If your warrior speaks true about the war pick from the abomination’s chest then I suspect that the same magic that enchanted the war pick may lie in her sword. Be this true I would but it at a high price!”

Jules covers his mouth to hide a broad grin. Lusitania sighs.

“The mercenary has been deceived by his eyes. IN truth, I did not wish for such magic on my sword so I crushed his heart with my bare hand.”

Holiander laughs, “Foolish woman, as if I could believe such a lie. Surely you are not so daft as to risk a hand to protect a sword.”

>>54939493
The Nozaman scowls. “I figured flesh to be- “

The man laughs louder. “enough of your lies, silly girl! Show me your enchanted blade so I may buy it from you.”

Jules turns to whisper to the warrior but she already began shouting.

“Praise your Rathan that armed guards surround you! Take my blade and drive it through your heart!”

She throws the sword forward and marches to the hall’s exit. Startled aby the outburst, the mercenaries give way. His pride ravaged, Lord Holiander rises. Perhaps he wished to hurl an insult, or maybe he would have commanded his soldiers to lock her away. I will never know for a cloud of burning pestilence shot forward from the blade. His body is reduced to bone in an instant. Alveredo’s will had been done.

The captain of the guard grabs the hilt of his sword and turns to Jules. Wide eyed, the mercenary acts quickly.

“Lusitania has betrayed us! To arms!”

With so much happening, neither guard nor mercenary makes a move for the Nozaman. The exception is Jules. Sword in hand he sprints toward the warrior. She turns as he swings and catches his arm with a single hand. Enraged by the betrayal, Lusitania grabs the blade and twists it from his grip. She then throws the mercenary to the ground and moves to make her escape. The mercenary captain retrieves a knife from his boot and moves to stab the Nozaman in the back. She hears the motion. In a flash of steel, she swings to rend his head. The mercenary quickly falls backwards to dodge the attack. The blade sinks into his cheek and flies upwards to his temple. Claiming an eye along the way. The betrayer keeps his life but pursues her no more.

>>54939637
Lusitania laughs at her victory but cannot celebrate further. The captain of the guard has rallied his troops. Not wishing to test her might against so many, the Nozaman bolts for a window guarded by a soldier still flat-footed by the chaos. She easily casts him aside with an elbow to the throat and leaps to a tree, at the base of which is a boy practicing his horsemanship. Lusitania throws the child from the beast and rides it away. They found the horse a week later, but Lusitania had escaped their clutches.

To this day, the kingdom still blames her for Lord Holiander’s death. Jules never revealed the truth, and I doubt they would believe him even if he did. That being said, the kingdom would not dare enact vengeance given recent events.

What’s that? How do I know so much of Jules? I merely speak stories I have heard. I lost this eye farming, as is my trade. Now I will answer no more questions. Let another story be told or leave me to my drink.

>>54941508
>Black starts the game
>And it's not even a piece that can be moved legally at the start
REEEEE!

>>54939680
Well done anon. Glad to see you expanded on your earlier work

https://1d4chan.org/images/9/99/ReturnOfAlveredo.png

>>54943046

Yup, workin on the second one too.

Hey, I wrote this ramblinge prologue to an AAR I was doing and thought it would be neat to base a story off it.

>>54943517
Prologue
Of all the races in the world, it is perhaps Mankind that is most susceptible to the call of Chaos. Dwarfs, by their very nature, are obstinate and bear the smallest slights for an eternity. The Elves, secure in their long lived lives and mastery of magic and craft, care not for the temptations that Chaos can offer to mortals, they simply have to reach out and pluck it eventually. They have time enough.The greenskins are simple minded creatures, who live to fight, and fight to live. To them brutality is a part of life. They were made to cruel and nasty, from the smallest goblin to the biggest orc, and chaos has no hold over them. Halflings are content to farm and feast, and so are the ogres. To them Chaos is utterly pointless, it's whispers unnecessary.
Mankind is too short lived to become truly skilled at a craft. The Magic they weave is contemptuously easy to the greenest of high elf novices. The height of their technological marvel is a child's sketch, crudely drawn, to a dwarf apprentice. They cannot cook as well as halflings, or eat as heartily as ogres. Yet, the ambition is there. It shines through the eyes of the lowest human being, a desire to do something more. To be something better. However, their flesh betrays them. Too weak, brittle and short living, a diseased vine struggling to hold the fruit that grows on it. Mankind is, for lack of a better word, too chaotic to accomplish much, according to their betters.

>>54943529
Elven and Dwarfish legends spoke of a time, millennia ago, where mighty heroes battled countless demons and saved the world. Humanity wasn't there, of course. The fathers of men fell to the darkness, or ran far away, little better than savage beasts. They didn't fight any glorious fights then. They didn't raise cairns and magnificent tombs to their heroes and saviours. Mankind does not even remember those days. It simply survived and waited until the storm passed by, like the deer that graze in the woods. Three thousand years ago, to the elves men were savage beasts to be killed for sport. The noon sun shone over Ulthuan and her children, and cast no shadows. Elves and dwarfs traded and prospered, and mankind was a curio that lived on the edges of the world in the lands beyond the mountains of mourn or in the frozen north, suffering the ravages of chaos mutely, like dumb beasts.

Two and a half thousand years ago, the dwarfs and elves were bitter enemies, who had fought a war for a royal beard and had brought their empires to the brink of ruin.
The elves had left the world, never to return, and those that remained became a feral people, jealously defending their forests and groves against all who would attack them. The dwarfs were on the decline as well. Innumerable lives had been lost to greenskins, and other, more horrifying creatures, and entire clans and holds forever lost to the gaze of Valaya. They clung more grimly to their remaining strongholds and remembered grudges that would never be avenged

>>54943549
.
Between the cold harshness of norsca, and the grim horrors of the badlands, lies a large expanse of land. It is defended on three sides by nearly impassable mountains, and the sea on the fourth. A land rich and wild, in both riches and danger. The elves had made cities upon it coasts during their zenith, its glittering spires and elegant walls never to be seen again, for the dwarfs had razed them in the bitter bloodshed that had followed.
The dwarfs had made homes and Karaks in the remote hills and mountains of the land, and lived in spartan conditions while they swore oaths to the High king.
For all their mightiness, skill in magic and craft, neither elves, nor dwarfs had ever thought about taming the lands. It was too vast, and too far from the sea for the Asur, and too shallow and poor in gorl for the Dawi. They were too few. Far too few and in their pride never heeded what the land wanted.
The land didn't need a master's touch to guide it. It lived, it thrived, and it yearned for the touch of higher beings. Beings that didn't crave for perfection in every fibre of their being. Beings that were more than just their lore and craft, beings that would grow, just like She had once. Beings that hungered for more. She would be their mother and watch them grow mighty in her loving embrace.
And thus the land slept, and slowly stirred as the pitter patter of feet came over the World's Edge.
-From the secret history of the Empire Nuln Press 2022
(deemed heretical by the Holy order of the Templars of Sigmar)

>>54943529
>>54943549
>>54943559
Any thoughts would be appreciated and welcome.

>>54938468
>>54938515
>>54938556
>>54938570
>>54938588
>>54938600
>>54938637
>>54938660
>>54938690
>>54938759
>>54938778
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>>54938975
>>54939055
>>54939126
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>>54939197
>>54939259
>>54939303
>>54939342
>>54939384
wait, so the portuguese lady was in the tavern while the necromancer's attack was being told as a story?

>>54943565
Too much is a straight lift from published sources.
Expect a call from GW's lawyers ...

>>54943927

I derped in my posting

>>54938481

>>54943529
>>54943549
>>54943559
Well written, and I'd be interested to see what kind of story you'd make for that.

Speaking of Warhammer, I'm still waiting to see the conclusion of >>54907598. I've held off posting the screencap on the wiki until it's all done.

>>54943485
Excellent. Although the one comment I would make is that your story could have been split into chapters (or in keeping with the theme, different nights in the tavern). There are several obvious break points, and with long stories it helps to have regular breaks.

Oh, btw - you get bonus points for realising here >>54938556 to put your text in a better format for 4chan. It seems like a small thing but it makes it look so much better.

>>54944415
yeah, I was writing that until I hit a bit of a block. I will continue that in a little bit.

>>54944122
But non of the names are trademarked :(

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Continuing my story from last threadL >>54795861

>background music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uyp6c0GZddI [Embed]

It is a friday evening and on a terrace area of an office building in downtown where three upper-class co-workers. Philip Sharp, a manager in the fourth floor area who is easily noticable and identified with his "signature" red suit that he liked to wear on either fridays, holidays, or when in a good mood. Manuel Hanson, the geek or nerd and generally the "smart guy" of the group, if any of his friends and closer associates need a certain and or specific problem fixed he's the guy who could help, plus has thick rimmed glasses that reinforce his stereotypical nerd feature. And also Shmul Rosenzweig, a good and even close friend of Manuel and Philip, is a foreigner from Grestin who recently earned citizenship for Bronia, the very country the three friends are in and living now. And jokingly, Shmul is the "Token Black Guy" of his tight nit group of friends, a title which earns sarcastic remarks from Mr. Rosenzweig. And in this pleasant enough friday evening they are just about to leave the office soon as they've already clocked out earlier, but decided to have some small talk and minor chit-chat.

"Another pleasant friday evening eh boys?" Philip said as he stretched his arms briefly before putting them down and having his arms on his back. "Any specific plans today? Hang outs? A short toad trip? Hitting the bar? Or just staying at home and revel at being single with no nagging spouse to be heard of?"

"Most definitely stayin at home mang." Said Manuel as he breath the evening air in and adjusted his glasses.

"And vhat to do all zaturday and zunday mein Manny? Vatch and fap to porn? Fiddle around vith those expensive plastic miniature dolls of yourz? Vatch more of your favortie cartoonz? Or more video gamez to rot your mind?" Said Shmul Rosenzwieg.

>>54951041
“Oh hardy-har-har Shmu! And no, I’m actually gonna be teaching a neighbor-next-door’s daughter how to play a clarinet!” Said Manuel Hanson.

"And what's this I hear? Banter among fellow co-workers I see?" Came the voice of a woman who now just walked in to the balcony area. It was the lady friend and fellow co-worker of Philip, Manny, and Shmul, it was Debra Moss. Who is also a secretary for another manager in a different floor of the office.

"DEBRA!" Philip, Shmul, and Manny exclaimed their female friend's name as she walked towards her male friends with four cold beers at her hands.

"And where'd you get such chilling refreshments Debs?" Asked Philip.

"My boss let me take a few from his private chiller, 'cause its gonna be the weekend and stuff. Knew you guys tend to go out in here either every fridays or when in a good mood, the balcony area, smoke a few sticks, chats, and a view of the city."

Debra passed the drinks to her friends as they begun to crack open the caps which results in satisfying hisses from the bottles being opened. And Debra followed to in drinking up the refreshments she brougt for herself and friends.

"So any plans this weekend boys?" Debra asked as she takes another sip.

"Just planning to stay home and enjoy the single life of not having a nagging spouse." Said Philip in deadpan as he takes a sip.

"I'm gonna be teaching a lil' girl next door how to play a clarinet." Said Manny as he blew softly to the opening of his beer bottle making some echoing sound off of it.

"Vell, remember Celestine Powers?" Asked Shmul.

“The pretty ashen-haired woman? What about her?” Manny asked.

“Vell my planz for da veekend? Celestine invited me to have dinner vith her and her two friendz, tvinz!”

“Ooo! Sounds intriguing Shmu. And should I assume you’s gonna go to Celestine’s invite just to hook up with one of the twins eh?” Philip Slyly inquired.

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>>54951065
And Debra jokingly inquired. “Or maybe both?” Which earned some chuckles from Philip, Manny and even Shmul himself.

"HAR-ZE-HAR-HAR!" Schmu sarcastically quipped. "Anyvay, here'z a photo vith ze tvinz. Via Celestine's zocial media."

Shmul got out his smart phone and opened up to show his friends the so called twins that would motivate him to come along with Miss Celestine Moss' invitation to dinner. And Shmul gave his other three friends a view to show that indeed, the twins he's talking about are not only alike but both are good looking.

"¡Vaya, carajo! Those are some damn fine babes! And that's one thing about Miss Celestine Powers. She always seems to be around and even surrounded by some busty babes. Even older, middle-aged women that're around her and or work with her are almost always good-tier MILFs."

"And any senior woman who's associated with Celestine is a GILF, or 'GMILF?' Grandma-I'd-Like-to'Fuck? Hehehe" Philip interjected jokingly also earning chuckles from his office pals.

"Oh don't think about azking for additional invitez if any of you think Celestine vould give any." Said Shmul in an as-a-matter-of-factly manner.

"Well damn, I would've loved to get either of those brunette's numbers." Said Manny as he takes a last swig of his bottle, finishing his drink.

"Same here and you all know that I'm a woman who's down with swinging both ways and prefering either my boys or girls good looking and fair skinned."

Said Debra as she also finished her beer as the next thirty minutes or so continued with various small talk about sharing thoughts of what to probably do in the weekend or contemplating about the possibility of being invited at dinner with Celestine and her pretty lady-friends.

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>>54938428
To the author who makes the Chris Orksen stories. I got something for you; pic related.

Hope you's see this :)

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Jake D. Bucher, Average American Citizen
Personal Journal, Recovered from Salt Lake City Ruins–

When the magic came back, no one was prepared. No one really knows why it came back, but the eggheads on discovery channel think it has to do with some relics that got destroyed in some air raid, but regardless, it’s here and probably here to stay. I remember I was sitting down, watching the local news spew bullshittery when it happened. It felt like a wave, it just hit you and all of a sudden it seemed like there was so much MORE that you could see, like a eureka moment. The feeling mostly went away after a few seconds, but not completely. Actually, if not for the fact that literally everyone I talked to had felt the same thing, and the fact that two days later my kid lit his bed on fire with his bare hands, and I could see my neighbor’s kid doing god-damned loop-de-loops in the sky I would’ve completely forgotten about it.

>>54961519
Turns out it was pretty fucking major happenings all over the world. People freaked the fuck out of course, riots and fear-mongering fucking everywhere, the Middle East went BUG-FUCKING-NUTS with witch-hunts, a Primal accidently summoned a fucking lightning storm over San Diego. Ya know, the kinda fun stuff one would expect. Had to crack a few zealots’ heads myself when they tried to witch-hunt in our state. Well, it took about 20 years for all the major hubbub to die down. Well, here in Texas anyways. The feds had tried to shut down magic users after that whole Primal-taking-over -San-Diego-and-establishing-a-independent-City-State thing , but it turned out to be a harder proposition than expected when fully 10% of the population could use magic in some way or another, and 50% could perceive it. The courts struck down most laws pertaining to banning it when people started realizing it was intrinsic. The fear-mongers are fucking everywhere still, hell they just got the new Pres. Elected on that basis, but there ain’t too many down here where I live.

>>54961541
There were several classifications for magic user’s, you see. The first were the 50% percent, that could be taught to “see” magic, if nothing else. And let me tell, you, it’s damned gorgeous to watch an arch mage do his stuff. Then there’s the mages, which can use magic, but you gotta be taught and really work at it to go up in sub-classes, from novice to arch mage. That neighbor’s kid actually took the test the other year, and passed with flying colors, which kinda surprised me, given the restrictions on it. A novice can set a pile of logs on fire, but an Archmage can do the same to a small town. We got about 70 that passed the bar in Texas now.
Then there are the Primals. They happen about every 150,000,000 people, but America’s (un)fortunately above the average. We got 4 of ‘em. One went and took over San Diego like I said before, and threw everything the military threw at him back twice as hard. Our own Roberts stayed here in Texas, keeping those fuckers across the border in check after Mexico fell. But the other two are just kinda hangin out, sponsoring magic festivals and shit. My kid actually convinced me go with him and his family to the one in Salt Lake City this year, supposedly the main attraction this year is going to be a duel between the other two Primals. I just hope those fuckers in DC don’t try and pull anything while we’re there.


Continue? First time write-fag.

>>54961519
>>54961541
>>54961562
>Continue? First time write-fag.
Hell yeah, that's good stuff you got there anon.

Got a minor formatting note though: put a full line space between every paragraph.

you can see the difference it makes here
>>54938540
>>54938556
where clearly the anon who wrote it realised if you copy-paste text from wordpad or whatever into the 4chan dialogue box it doesn't end up looking so good.

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>want to write a near future fantasy with wizards and angels
>main antagonist would be the strongest wizard in texas
>Want to give them some twist, decide it should be that magic is strictly manipulation of perception
>Antagonist should have some special advancement of that
>Realize the best thing I could give him would be one power that he uses for a whole bunch of shit and isn't explained till the end
>Want to give him the ability to stop the perception of time
I can't escape the memes if I do this, but I think it might be worth it

>>54961863
>>54961863
Alrighty, note taken. Will probably continue in the evening tomorrow.

>>54951318

"Welp I don't about you lady and gentlemen. But I think it's time to call it a night." Said Philip as he is the last to now finished his beer. "I'mma clock out now, see you in monday my fellow corporate dregs!" Said Philip as he begun to walk back into the building to walk down to the lobby and leave the area.

"Adios Amigos! Got one of my favorite weekend shows that's coming up tonight. And gotta prepare my clarinet for those lessons I'm gonna give to my neighbor." Manny waved an arm as he also begun walking for home.

"Vell itz about time I alzo clocked out too Fraulein Moss, I vould not vant to ztay up all night and be late for my veekend dinner invite vith mizz Powers. Tschüss, and see you in monday az uzual Debra." Shmul said as he made a perfect toss of his now finished beer bottle into a nearby garbage bin and waved Debra goodbye and walked for home.

"You to Shmu, and hey maybe you could tell Celestine to make one more invite or even a last minute invite for just me? I really am eager to meet one of those twins if possible." Said and asked Debra with humorous intent in mind.

"Ha! I'll try and ask Celestine!" Said Shmu as he was just near the door heading back into the officer. "Not heading home yet???" Shmu asked loudly from the distance.

"Maybe later, I'll just take in the evening view and air for awhile then I'll leave later, I already clocked out earlier."

"Okay, goodbye again!" Shmu said again as he now got back inside.

And now Debra was just by herself as she at last took a last swig from her drink and placed it down on the ground for the custodial staff to clean it up later. She decided to got some her earbuds and plugged it in her phone and listen to some tunes while taking in the evening breeze before heading home soon.

And thus concludes such an evening for four fellow co-workers who're also friends.

###

There you go, fin. Since this storythread's still new and its still the weekend, I might make another story in a while.

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bump!

So, this is a cutscene for one of the characters I play in Exalted.
What you need to know is that the character was highly compassionate, his virtue flaw being Red Rage of Compassion. That basically means he flies into a more-or-less uncontrollable rage when those he cares about get hurt.
And for context, most of the world was just destroyed by a fucker.

How do you find this?
The story so far:
About two months into their refuge inside the manse after the fall of Yu-Shan, evening finds Noz in his room, looking out the window. The room is a mess, with dirty clothes, bottles of ale, wine and hard liquor littering about a quarter of the floor. Besides the smell of stale air, which is present throughout the manse due the windows and doors not being opened in quite a long while, the room reeks of alcohol, marijuana and sweat. Noz is sitting by the window, looking out. His unkempt hair and beard, alongside with the smell of booze and sweat that had been following him the past few weeks make him look older, and unrecognizable to anyone but his circle.
He shambles, as he is wont to do recently, towards the table with the assortment of tubes, jars and glass bottles, almost knocking over one of the potted marijuana plants he is growing and narrowly missing the punching bag suspended in the middle of the room. He crashes hard, elbows first, on the table, making the glass paraphernalia shake with the impact. He picks up one of the jars, which contains a clear, strong-smelling liquid, and takes a swig. “I’ve had better” he says to no one in particular, and finishes the rest of the jar. Throwing the now empty container over his shoulder, he opens a drawer and takes out a marijuana cigarette. “Now whurr ish dat little fuhcker?” he says, turning around. He takes two steps and loses balance. Trying to avoid a fall, he throws himself at the bed. He lands on it, right side first, but the mattress bounces him off and he lands hard on his back.

>>54967287
The marijuana cigarette is still in his mouth, intact. He starts laughing hysterically. Since he is still on his back when he starts laughing, the cigarette does what gravity tells it to do, falling into his mouth and partially down his throat.
Choking and laughing at the same time, Noz pulls the cigarette out and turns his head to the left. “There y’are!” He exclaims, as a fresh burst of laughter erupts. He reaches under the bed and pulls out a box of matches. Between short fits of laughter, Noz attempts to light one of the matches, managing to break quite a few in the process. Finally managing to keep one lit and to temporarily suppress his laughter, Noz brings the fire to the end of the cigarette and inhales deeply. He exhales and takes another drag. This time, a fit of coughing starts shaking him, making him go up to his knees. Bumping his knee hard against the floor and feeling no pain, he remembers a time when his knee used to hurt all the time. He gets up, room spinning all around him, and falls down on the bed. He never thought he'd say this about that year of his life, but even that was better. Taking another deep drag, Noz remembers the events of his youth that lead to his Second Breath. He relives the walk with Silvestra and the demon's attack. He remembers all the dead bodies, and the creature going for his famiy. Was Varnas still alive? But no, he couldn't go down that road, not again. Not after last night.

>>54967298
It happened while he was drinking a jar of the special moonshine he'd been making. Toch was hanging out with Ignis, who was trying to figure out how he worked and Jonathan was free to fly around the manse, since he couldn't go outside, so he didn't know exactly where he was. He could've found out, but he wanted to be alone, and Jonathan understood that. Noz was roaming through the manse, drinking and thinking. That was pretty much all he did these days. He ended up in the kitchen and got the sudden urge to cook. He'd go for anything, but he knew Khaia had been drooling for some cake for a while. Then, he remembered who else had been very fond of cake. A single tear rolled down his cheek and fell on the counter. Its fall lasted ages.
As the tear was plummeting towards the counter, he felt that all of Creation was trapped inside it, and the moment it crashed, he felt the anger take him again. He struck out against the kitchen counter, making it magma-hot, burning and melting in a matter of seconds. Then he screamed, and punched the floor. Vines came out of every crack and crushed almost every object in the kitchen. In a moment of clarity, he ran up to his room to avoid causing any more destruction. He got there and tried to calm down, but he couldn't. Everything was dead or dying. Everything was dead or dying because he was too weak to do anything about it. If he could only banish the shadowlands that were killing everything and putting all souls in a circle of reincarnation. But then, he thought he knew exactly how to do that. In his rage, he threw open the doors to the balcony, tearing one out of its hinges, and looked at the darkness outside.

>>54967308
Darkness. Shadowlands. The only thing that can beat darkness is light. He flared up and, with a raging bellow punched the air in front of him. From around his forearm, a flaming bird made out of diamond and ruby essence shot forward, shrieking, and crashed roughly 1000 yards from the manse. Before it exploded into a huge ball of purifying flame, Noz had already started working on the second one. The second bird shot forward, leaving a trail of burning essence in its wake, and crashing into the darkness outside. Noz could already hear shouts from outside his room, as he was working on a third brilliant predatory bird. Even though his forearms and hands were covered in burns, since he didn't shape the birds with the utmost care, Noz launched a third attack on the darkness outside. He heard Amiri yelling for Pat and Khaia, standing in the door, asking him "What in the name of Creation do you think you're doing? Have you gone mad?". But he ignored her, and started working on the fourth bird. "It's working, can't you see it? I'm fighting darkness with light! I will stop the dying and then I'll go for the sonofayeddim who started all this!" He launched a fourth bird and started working on the fifth. By then, his arms and chest bore horrific burns, and the room smelled like charred meat and burnt hair. "I can't clinch him if he's on fire!" yelled Pat, while Amiri said something unintelligible, probably in her wyld dialect.
"Arvia wouldn't want you doing this", came a soft voice from his left. That made him abruptly stop his casting, causing the quarter formed bird to quickly dissipate. Silvestra was standing beside him, looking at him with an interesting mix of amused curiosity and honest sympathy. "I don't have time for this!" Noz yelled, while starting to cast yet another raptor. "I have to stop the killing!". She smiled. "I'm sorry for this, but I can't let you hurt yourself any further. Pat, heal him!"

>>54967317
Noz did not even notice the burns on his arms and chest being healed. Instead he launched the bird, and as he was getting ready to start working on another one, he heard Pat saying "I'm sorry too." and found himself flying through the air. He landed, and before losing consciousness, he saw the whole circle, including their once lost Eclipse caste, leaning over him. Despite everything, for the first time in ages, they were all together.
That had happened yesterday. This morning, everyone had been acting like nothing had happened. Noz was grateful for that. And he realized that trying to banish the shadowlands by blasting them away was a stupid plan, if there ever was one. Still, the feelings of uselessness and guilt continued. Had he listened to Arvia's request for them to take her with them, or to let her roam Creation, to get to know life outside of her manse under Nexus, she might have still been alive. Were he smarter, he would've heeded Rhys' warning that the guy in the Day Star was not Big' Ol' Sunny-Boy. Were he strong enough, he would've done something about that, and maybe the Unconquered Sun and Luna would still be alive, and none of this would have happened.

>>54967326
But it's not the time for 'what-ifs". Noz tries to throw his roach in the trash bin on the other side of the room, but instead he throws it on the mattress. "Boy, this is some good pot. Had the world not ended, I could've made good money selling this. It could've been the major export of the city we could've built." He tries to get up, but falls back down. "Oh, right." A bubble of water envelops Noz's head, and as it bursts, both the effects of the alcohol and those of the marijuana are gone. "It's a damn shame I had to do that, but it's time." He gets off the bed and goes to the punching bag. He starts hitting it, imagining it's Solarion, as Pat described him. For an hour he keeps this up, trying to break the bag, trying to break Solarion. "I am going to break you! I am going to do to you what you did to Creation, you no-good, god-murdering son of a-"
"Am I interrupting something?" Silvestra walks in, with Jonathan on her shoulder. She takes a look around, sniffs around a bit and says "You should really do something with the place."
"Yeah, I'll... I'll get to that. So... what did you want to see me about?" says Noz, while heading towards the desk with the improvised distillery on it, opening a drawer, finding it full with jars of moonshine, closing it and taking another marijuana cigarette from the one above. "Oh, do you want one?"
"I'm good... What, can't a manse's avatar have a chat with her creator?"

>>54967338
"Yeah... sorry. I'm not much of a people person these days"
"You should do something about your appearance as well. Now that you're all buffed up from hitting that punching bag, that beard and messy hair make you look like a buffalo."
Lighting his cigarette, Noz says "I've seen a herd of buffaloes once. Trust me, I look nothing like one. I wonder if there is anybody left alive who knows what one looks like."
"You do know that torturing yourself like this will not bring her back right?"
"I am going to kill him, Silvestra. I *want* to kill him. I've never felt that way about anyone. I... I want to more than kill him. Were it within my power, I would condemn him to an eternity of suffering. If it were in my power, I would pull him out of the cycle of reincarnation and make him pay for eternity."
"I'm a bit surprised to hear that coming from you."
"He destroyed Creation, Silvestra. He killed millions! He probably killed my family... He... He killed Arvia. She was... she was like my little sister. I haven't seen my little brother Varnas in a few years, and she reminded me so much of myself when I was small. Wanting to explore stuff, yearning for knowledge and being unable to leave the place you were born in. When I heard she died, a huge part of me died with her. I think that's why I did what I did when I heard the news. It was... It was kind of like last night."

>>54967350
"Hey, it's going to be ok. Somehow... I know you can put things right. If anyone can, it's you guys. Now..." she begins, as Jonathan Livingston flies over to Noz's shoulder and covers his face with a wing against the smoke "tell me more about the buffaloes. Tell me everything about your travels. I do need to learn, if I am to be your manse's avatar. Start with the sea. I love the idea of a neverending source of water."
Silvestra sits down next to him, on the bed, and Noz puts his joint out. They sit there, the ethereal avatar of the manse, a conflicted sorcerer uncertain of who he is and what he's become and his seagull who was with him from the beginning. He starts talking to them, telling tales of people, animals, and magic. He tells tales of lands that used to be and of glories that once were. He talks to those closest to him, to those who have, in a way, been with him from the very start; h talks until he falls asleep.

>>54967287
Time for backstory:
He woke up four days later. His left arm was broken, as were a couple of his ribs. His head was covered in bandages. They had apparently hit him with a fishing pole and split his scalp. The worst part was his right leg. It had been crushed, the knee destroyed. Except for the head wound and possibly one of the ribs, the rest hadn't been the bullies' work. He had been found on the coast, with a tree on top him. After they had left him there, the storm had apparently knocked down a tree, and he was unfortunate enough to be lying unconscious underneath it.

And so began the worst year of his life.

The pain was unbearable. He was given potions, poultices were applied and changed daily, and he was kept mostly asleep. After the worst was over, the fact that he'd live became apparent. What was obvious though, was that he would never swim again.

He wasn't able to leave the bed for the first 3 months. Then, he got a pair of improvised crutches. When he became able to leave the house, he'd go to the edge of the sea and look out towards his island.

>>54968875
His little piece of paradise on which he would never again set foot…. The knee was a constant source of pain, but it didn't bother him as much. What bothered him was that all of his books and artifacts, which he would never see or touch again, were just lying there. He became quiet. He seldom talked. His parents were worried, and tried to get him to open up, but nothing worked. Until one day, about a year after the accident (one year, two weeks, five days after he woke up, to be exact), when they told him a circle of Solars was passing through.

That got his attention. He went outside and, as he expected, everybody was crowded around them. He could barely see the top of a shaved head, but nothing more. He tried to make his way through the crowd, but he was pushed and found himself falling on his bad knee. He screamed. As he was getting up, he noticed that a path was forming in front of him. He didn't understand what was going on, until he saw the big bald man dressed in radiant robes was almost in front of him. He started backing away, scared, apologizing for screaming, apologizing for anything he might have done wrong, asking for mercy. The big bald man didn't say anything. He looked at the improvised crotches, then at him. Then, with a reassuring grin but no words whatsoever, he grabbed the kid's head.

>>54968927
Cold and heat together started flowing into him from the man's hand. It went on for about five minutes. The flowing eventually stopped, and the hand squeezed his head gently, lifting him to his feet. He could stand. He couldn't believe it, but he could stand. His arm was feeling great as well. There was not a single trace of pain left in his body. He tried to thank the man, but started stuttering.

The Solar, by then walking towards the rest of his Circle, simply looked back and smiled. He said there were no thanks required, that that was the way of the Unconquered Sun. Then he proceeded to ask Nausmir where he lived. Noz pointed a finger at his house. The man grinned.

He said the Unconquered Sun might not be done with him yet, and that maybe them crossing paths had not been a thing of chance. The he turned away and returned to his friends, the crowd moving back behind him. Noz walked home and slept.

During the next months, he swam. Little by little, he got his stamina back. In six months, he was able to swim to his island again. He didn't though. Not yet. He told his parents he'd be going away for days at a time. They weren't happy about it, but they were excited that he was walking and talking again, so they agreed. Plus, they had their hands full with his newborn little brother.

So he went back. And trained. He bought a thick rope, used for tying masts, and brought it to the island. He built a shelter. He started using the rope as a fighting chain. He also used it to get better at climbing and swinging from trees. When he got good at using it, he bought another one. He'd go home twice a week, but the rest of the time, he'd practice. He got skilled at an improvised style of chain-wielding martial arts.

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>>54968975
Time passed like this. About two years later, he went back home for good. He'd still swim to the island every now and again, but there was no more he could learn by himself. The books he knew by heart. The weapons were still too heavy for him to wield. The artifacts were still of unknown use to him.

He got a job as a fisherman on the docks, since his seasickeness was the one thing the Solar had not cured him of. He got a part-time job as a cook's assistant. He provided for his family.

Ten years passed.

Noz, now twenty-five, had his own place, he was a cook in the new tavern and was the best big brother in the world, or so Varnas would have everyone believe. One night, the young man was returning home with a young buxom beauty that was just passing through and needed a place to spend the night. Unfortunately, as this is called the Age of Sorrows for a reason, disaster was just around the corner. Literally.

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>>54968997

As Noz and Silvestra were turning the corner, they noticed something weird being unloaded from a ship. It was late, the docks were empty, with only them and the tall, thin man with the thin, long mustache who was letting some sort of creature out of a big shipping box. As the creature came into view, Noz could see that it was about 7 and a half feet tall and was made from what appeared to be solidified chunks of flesh and scabs. It had spikes on its head and back, made from the same fleshy substance. It was oozing blood and a fowl, green liquid. The creature had rows upon rows of huge teeth, curving both outward and inward, and its tongue was split in half, like a snake's. As it looked towards the couple, the tongue lashed out to lick its lips. It fell out instead, and the creature instantly grew a new one. It had huge wings on its back, which looked like those of a skinned bird. Its eyes were burning embers, glowing in the night. It was holding what appeared to be a spear made of human bones.

Noz tried to scream, but couldn't. He looked at Silvestra, and didn't know what to make of what he was seeing. Instead of screaming, or trying to run away, she had her war face on. She was holding a daiklave, even though he was positive she didn't have one on her before, when they were heading home. His hands had been all over her, he should have felt it. He turned to look at the creature again, but instead of it being 10-15 yards away as it originally was, 2-3 seconds before, it was right in front of him. He got a good look at the cracks the scabs made in the thing's skin. He felt sick.

Before he had time to think, a hand with claws that were a grisly 10 inches-long flashed in front of him and sent Silvestra flying into the ocean. He felt an impact, blood trickling from his chest, and he was flying as well. His back hit a wooden wall, followed immediately by the back of his head. He felt the wood crack and was swallowed by darkness.

>>54969070
He came to, a little while later, surrounded by the smell of smoke, blood, and the screams of people. He got up clumsily, staggering. He touched the back of his head. Blood. It hurt, but he would have to put up with it. The house through which he had partly crashed was on fire. The people living there were nowhere to be seen. There were, however, bodies all over the place. On the docks, in the water, on top of houses. There were people screaming, people crying, people running. He could still walk. And he could still run. He had to check on his family.

He ran to a small store that sold oysters, clams, and cockles. He tore down the awning and took the chains that held up the sign. He gave them a spin and smiled. They were just the right weight. Then, he started for his parents' house.

Now that the initial shock of seeing it was gone, he realized he had read about creatures like that. It was a demon of the second circle. Apparently, the man on the docks had smuggled it into the village for some reason. On his way, he saw the devastation the demon had left behind. Dead bodies splayed everywhere. People he knew. People he had lived with his entire life. Surprisingly few, though. Seeing as they were a fishing village, with no means of defending themselves, the body count was surprisingly low. The destruction was mostly focused in a straight line. The demon had apparently known where it was headed. That meant it was smuggled in the village for a reason. As he was thinking about what that reason could have been, Noz realized in an instant one horrible detail that made him stop dead in his tracks for a moment. The trail of destruction was leading towards his parents' house. He picked up speed, praying to the Unconquered Sun that he wasn't too late. He didn't know what he’d do when he got there, he didn't think he could stand up to a second circle demon, but he had to try.

>>54969128
About two streets away from where his folks lived, the trail suddenly stopped. Instead, there was a hole through a building, as if someone or something had been thrown through it. Sounds were coming from the other side of building, but he had to check on his parents and Varnas. If anything happened to them...


He reached the house and slammed the door open. His family was alright. They were all huddled up in a corner. They jumped when he opened the door but as soon as they realized who was standing there, they jumped him. They were glad he was ok, and were asking him what was going on. He told them what he knew, and decided to go see what was going on, and if he could do anything to stop the unholy abomination from killing any more neighbors. As he was about to head for the door, one of the walls exploded in thousands of splinters and pieces of wood.


Something heavy hit him so hard he went sprawling, the thing on top of him. He hit his head against the floor and pain instantly flared up. It was so intense he blacked out for a couple of seconds. When he came to, he saw that it was Silvestra who had crashed into him.


As he got up, he managed a coy smile as he realized that despite everything that was going down this evening, he’d actually forgotten about her: "That's not the way I expected you to get on top of me this evening."

"I'd tell you what I expected from this evening, but I believe your parents are here."

"Feisty! I like that!" said Noz, beginning to like her more and more as the evening went by.

"And I believe *he* is here as well." she said, readying her paired daiklaves.

"Don’t you play the pronoun game wi-" then he saw it.

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>>54969262
The demon was in the opening. It stepped inside. One of its arms was missing, as was a wing. Half of its jaw was gone as well. Blood and green goo dripped from it on the floor. Its spear was jammed through its own torso, but it didn't seem bothered by it. It started walking towards them. Silvestra made a gesture to attack it, but the thing was suddenly gone. Then, Noz heard his brother scream.

He turned around as fast as he could, and he saw his father lying on the floor. There was no way to tell if he was alive or dead. The demon had his mother by the head. It was holding her up one handed. Silvestra sprang forward, daiklave aimed at the thing's head. She managed to scalp the creature but it showed no signs of noticing or being deterred by it. The demon swirled, kicking Silvestra straight in the gut and sending her flying across the room. She hit a wall and didn't get up. Noz turned towards the thing, spinning his chains. A light flashed in his mother's eyes, her head still held firmly in the thing's hand. Then it dropped her to the ground. The demon turned its attention to Varnas.

Noz started running towards it. A sweep of the thing's one remaining wing sent him sprawling, chains flying out of his hands. He looked towards Silvestra. She was still out. He looked at the demon, which was now reaching for Varnas, who was backing into a corner, too terrified to even cry. He was helpless. He had no chance against the thing. It was going to kill his brother, like it did his parents, and then it was going to come for him. There was nothing he could do about it. He was going to let his brother die because he was too weak to do anything. He was as helpless as that time on the coast, when the big kids knocked him out. The desperation was overwhelming. As was his sense of uselessness. The thing grabbed Varnas' head. And then it happened.

>>54969294
He could feel himself changing in way he couldn't exactly describe. It was as if his very soul was being altered. No, not altered. More like... enhanced. Yes, that was the word. He felt as though a piece that had been missing all along was added to his soul. Now that it was in place, he couldn't understand how he had lived without it. It belonged there. He could feel the same type of warmth combined with cold flowing through his body as he did that time when the Solar had healed him.

Not only could he sense it, he could see it. He extended his hand and looked at it. A shiny, golden aura was radiating from him, just on top of a light blue one. He felt power flowing through him. Then, a sudden and unexpected shockwave, with him at its center, plowed through the house. Every piece of furniture was knocked over. Pieces of wood flew outward from the hole in the wall. The demon was propelled forward, hitting its head against the wall and dropping Varnas. Silvestra woke up, rose, and started towards him.

"Are they-" Noz began, looking at his parents, but Silvestra cut him off.

"They're fine. It just tried to read their minds. Well, steal their memories is a more apt description, but either way they'll be fine. They might not remember what happened here, but otherwise-"

She got cut off as Varnas ran and grabbed Noz's leg, asking through rivers of tears and snot what was going on.

"Everything's gonna be fine, little man. You just go with her, while I deal with him." He turned towards Silvestra "Please take him to a safe place. Them too. I'll deal with him. You try finding that son of a yeddim who brought it here."

"Bossy, aren't we? Looks like the Second Breath's gone straight to your head."

"So that's what happened?"

"Yes. Now you take care of that thing. We'll catch up later." And she took Varnas on her back, slung his parents one on each shoulder, and leapt through the wall.

"Looks like it's just you and me, big boy. Let's see how you like me now."

>>54969351
Noz picked up the chains from the floor and started swinging them. The thing charged. It tried to tear him open with its claws, but Noz was faster. He swung a chain at the demon's remaining arm, clenching it. He slid between its legs, got up and pulled. The demon was pulled arm-first between its own legs and went sprawling on its back. Before it had a chance to get up, Noz was on it. He coiled one of the chains around the thing's neck and started squeezing. The thing grabbed him by the neck and threw him out of the house, through a wall. It jumped out right after him.
Noz fell in the water, while the the thing landed on a pier. He tried to climb up behind it to surprise it, but it turned around abruptly and kicked for his head. Noz barely got out of the way of the kick and swung both chains, wrapping them around the thing's leg. He pulled.

The demon was on its back again. Noz started spinning. The demon started spinning as well. Soon, they were a blur spinning through the night sky. Noz expertly swirled in the air, positioning the creature at an angle and throwing it in the air. Because of the thing's momentum, and because he was still holding onto the chains that were coiled around the demon's leg, he went flying after it. They flew about 5 stories high, taller than any building in this small fishing village, and during the ascension, Noz managed to get on top the thing and stand there. He made the chains uncoil, swung them again for the thing's torso, and while still in the air, started spinning it again. He uncoiled the chains and sent the thing flying towards an anchored ship. As Noz fell towards the water, he saw the demon hitting the ship's mast.

He got out, breathing heavily, and looked at the ship. The demon was down, the mast toppled on top of it. It wasn't moving. He wanted to jump onto the ship in order to make sure the abomination was dead, but instead got the air knocked out of him and was sent flying.

>>54969420
The demon had just swung a piece of the now broken mast at him and hit him square-on. He landed on the fo'c'sle. Everything hurt. He tried to get up, but was instead lifted by his head. He saw the the thing's own spear jutting from its torso. He was getting closer to it. It was trying to impale him on the spear jutting from itself. What in the name of the Unconquered Sun was this thing made of? He didn't have enough strength to resist. He tried but it was useless. He was going to become a torso ornament for this abomination. All of a sudden, the spear disappeared. He looked through the hole left by it in the thing's body.
He took a few steps back and realized that now it was jotting from the demon's head. Right between its yellow, burning eyes. The spear then jerked upwards, splitting the upper part of the thing's head in half. The head rolled off to the side as the demon’s body finally let go of Noz. It toppled over, only to reveal Silvestra standing behind it.

The next two weeks were interesting, to say the least. Silvestra gave him some answers, but not nearly all of them. Apparently, his house was built on something called an essence node. That, along with the emotions he went through when the demon was about to kill his brother, were what most likely caused his Second Breath. She hadn't managed to catch the man who released the demon, but she was able to find out some things. All she told him was that someone was trying to turn the island into a shadow land.

Unfortunately, there was nothing more she could or would say about the subject. She didn't tell him anything about her, not even if Silvestra was her real name or if she was a Solar as well. Before leaving the next day, she taught him a few things about the Exaltation. She also taught him how to attune the two Dire Chains on his island in order to make them usable.

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>>54969460
His parents were ok, but the conversation with them had been quite awkward. He explained what he knew. It quite difficult, seeing as he didn't know that much about what went down, to begin with. It was made even more difficult by the seagull who started following him around after that night. He could understand all that the seagull wanted him to, and vice-versa. Apparently, Exaltation spilled over everything in the vicinity of the one who draws their Second Breath. Jonathan Livingston, as was the bird's name, had had its nest on the Seaworths' house, getting a full dose of radiation. This made him smarter than the average gull.
Noz told his parents that he decided to leave, to travel the world in order to attempt to banish the shadow lands. They were hesitant but really could do nothing to stop him. He gave Varnas a small Fire Pearl, which he had found among the artifacts and told him to take care of it until he returned. He buried the rest of the shipwreck goods along with the wave cleaver daiklave and the books, both the ones he'd read, and those damaged in the storm. Now cured of his sea sickness thanks to the Exaltation, he left his village for the first time ever, after helping with rebuilding.

>>54969491
I've got more related to a different character if anyone's interested

>>54969516
Yeah, go for it. I don't know anything about Exalted so I lacked a certain amount of context for what you just posted, but the writing seems good (although I thought the backstory part was better written than the cutscene part)

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>>54961562

Cleao B. Baker, Citizen of the former U.S.A.,
Excerpt from “Tales of the Apocalypse” ¬–

Well, it’s official. The world has gone absolutely fucking mad. The days the return of magic are nothing compared to this. Those bastards in DC actually did it. They tried to nuke our Primals. And only one of the fuckers died.

Welkin Garnett, the one in San Diego has had a shield perma-up since the very beginning, so now they just got a nice radiation cloud, but are otherwise fine. Last I heard on the news was that he was even somehow cleaning that up as well. At least they didn’t try for Roberts, considering he’s the only reason we even have an intact border, though who knows how long that will last now. But Salt Lake City is gone. Just gone. They nuked it 3 times! What in the absolute fuck were they thinking! McKinsey apparently died in the blasts, but Jake Smith survived somehow. Well, partly. And now he went “MY TURN NOW MOTHERFUCKERS.” The Northeast is gone. They showed the satellite images just yesterday.

One single giant firestorm, 1000 miles across, with DC at its center.

>>54976326

And now Europe is fucked up too. After the firestorm happened, someone calling himself the First Primal just showed up out of nowhere, and is purging the Middle East. Like a complete... what would you call total human extermination? Anthrocide? He has all sorts of things that have no right to be called anything other than demons killing everyone. And the rest of the world is just as bad. China’s in civil war, Africa’s still a shithole like always, some kinda portal opened up in Ireland, dragons are showing up in Scandinavia countries, some insane biotechnologist archmage went and infested the Philippines and Indonesia with fucking WERE-CROCS, and Australia with fucking Deathclaws! As if it wasn’t bad enough already!

WE’RE ALL FUCKING DOOMED.

>>54976326
>>54976340
>well that escalated quickly

>>54978238
Eh, that's cause all this is more like backstory then anything else. Also,most of the other stuff was people taking advantage of the chaos caused by a third of the U.S. getting turned into slag and glass.

I'm just trying to get all the worldbuilding/loredumping out of the way before I do actual stories.

More incoming, though the transition to actual stories will probably take a few more "excerpts".

>>54959012
Our Iron Angel had been severely damaged in the fight against the Iron Legions. Where we were helpless to fight against them, she was our last hope of salvation.

I don't think any of us know how she came to Earth, but it's nothing short of a miracle that she's fighting for our sake. We weren't prepared for anything the Legions had. Not their orbital bombardments, not their impenetrable legions of robotic soldiers, and not even their pulse weaponry. When she came, that Iron Angel was our only chance to fight against them. She was able to break those legions, she could disrupt the bombardments, and she did it all while protecting us. The world's governments all figured that out soon enough, and at long last we finally came together.

Within two years of the invasion, we had begun the process of turning the tide. Thanks to our angel, we were able to salvage the armaments of the Iron Legions. Pulse weapons were reverse engineered, the remains of the soldiers were repurposed as armor for our troops. From there, our human ingenuity just took its course as we found ways to improve upon what we were given. It was only a matter of time before we were able to stand alongside our beacon of hope and give her the fighting chance she needed to destroy the Iron Legions.

Then it got harder. When it was clear that the ground forces lost their effectiveness, the Iron Legions resorted to airborne bombings. Fighters far more maneuverable than even our finest jets came bearing weapons able to disintegrate buildings as if they never existed. The fact that our newfound weapons could do nothing made us feel so weak - but she never gave up on us. Our Iron Angel, our savior, she fought against them still with the same spirit that brought us so far. We couldn't let her down, so we pushed hard to make our next breakthrough.

It came in the form of Heavy Pulse Turrets, using pulse cannons capable of blasting tanks. They worked just as well on their fighters.

>>54979763
Once we made it clear we would not fall victim a second time, the Iron Legions unleashed their last-resort weapon: A cannon capable of obliterating the entire planet. Our only saving grace was that it took about a week to charge up. In that week, the Iron Legions threw everything they had at us.

It was then that the truth was revealed about our Iron Angel - she was only able to stand up to the Iron Legions because she was once part of them. The human opinion on our survival had dropped to the absolute nadir. After all, we were being saved by our own enemies. After all, what chance did we have when it was clear that this war was never meant for us to win? Our leaders had all but given up at this point, believing that they never had a chance.

What gave us our hope back was a speech televised by the Iron Angel herself, finally revealing what she was.

>People of Earth, I am here to explain something that I confess is the reason for this misunderstanding. Please, allow me to clear this up for you, so that we can move forward as one.

>Yes, I am indeed of the same homeworld as the Iron Legions. Once, it was actually peaceful. We did not go to war. We did not kill. However, the Central Intelligence, the one that is controlling that battleship above us, has become corrupted. Resetting the Intelligence is impossible - it has built so many failsafes to prevent anyone from tampering with it, and I fear that I do not have the time to go through it myself. That Central Intelligence corrupted my world and enslaved it to serve as the Iron Legions. I was fortunate. I was sent in a shuttle far from that world, protecting me from the Central Intelligence's clutches.

>When I met you, I had thought I had returned home. Your cities are beautiful like mine. Your machines are constantly improving, like mine. Even your faces look like mine. Perhaps you do not understand, but you must believe me when I say that I want you to live. Please, do not give up.

>>54938428
so i guess this is the place to post this.
>playing as a monk in 8th level named cinderella in pathfinder custom campaign.
>party is on a flying ship going from 1 continent too another.
>while flying 500meters above the water furing the first night entire party hears it.
>rooar.... fucking dragon.jpg
>its a young blue dragon, immune to our mages most powerful spells.
>rest of party is melee characters.
>remember thread about the level 3 monk that killed a dragon by pinning it mid air.
>dragon is 150ft away from the ship atm.
>me beeing the reckless person i am want to kill it.
>do a running jump with 60ft movespeed.
>jumpcheck... nat fucking 20.
>total acrobatic roll adds up to 90.
>dm looks at me in awe of what i just did.
>next round i have to roll to grab onto the dragon.
>nat 20 again.
>everyone is now hyped AF.
>grabs onto the dragons wings while standing on its back.
>roll to pin it.
>i make it with a 19 on the die.
>starts falling.
>as we hit the water i take 20d6 fall damage.
>dragon breaks neck and instantly dies.
>i take 95 damage. only 3 off knocking me out.
>my name is now changed from cinderella to Los Tiburon 2.

>>54976340

Steven J. Crowell, Dean of New San Diego Magical Arts University

“A Short Study of Magic and its Relationship to the Realm of Ideas and the Entities Within”

Magic, that most enigmatic of forces, now seems ever-present in our current society. Scientists have long thought that there was some as of yet unidentified force or particle and the lack of knowledge of said force prevented creation of any Unified Field Theory. They delved ever deeper into the mysteries of the sub-atomic realms, and made a great many amazing scientific discoveries, but never quite found an answer to link everything together. It has recently been posited that rather than the force in question being just difficult to find, it was both missing in action altogether and undetectable with modern technological instruments.

It is now common knowledge that with the destruction of the Keystones, magic returned to our world. What is lesser known, is that it never left. The Keystones did not seal away magic, but absorbed it. Magic is somehow generated in miniscule amounts by every human on the planet, and mages can then use said magic. Thus ambient magic is now in even greater amounts than it was at the time of the “Wave” after the destruction of the Keystones. It has been observed through experiments that certain “rituals” can gather large amounts of magic together in one place for use. It is currently thought that these rituals are how some reports of magic pre-Magic Day may have some legitimacy to them, despite the Keystones absorbing the vast majority of it.

>>54983193

I posit that the reason for these rituals working in such a manner despite the lack of use of magic to gather together more magic is due to the relation between Magic and the recently discovered Realm of Ideas. Our finite universe floats like skim or a raft on an infinite sea of Ideas, held together by the strings of time and space and the various laws of reality. It is one single, giant Idea that rejects all others. Humanity is unable (for the most part) interact with Ideas directly. Magic however, acts as an intermediary, and allows for the interaction between humanity, Ideas, and our universe. Despite our universe’s rejection of other Ideas from itself, we can use magic to temporarily draw forth other Ideas from the Realm of Idea and impose them upon our universe, seemingly breaking those things that we take as “Laws” by summoning fireballs from nothing or reversing the laws of gravity to allow flight.

>>54983212

However, I believe that it is a two-way system. The Idea of a fireball is not inherent, but something that we as humans conceived, and so we as humans can create Ideas which then reside in the Realm of Idea. The implications of this possible discovery are enormous. Things which were previously thought to be fictional may reside within the Realm of Idea, not naturally, but by our own creation. I believe that the vast amount of religions and concepts have created countless entities, realms, and concepts completely alien to our own universe that now reside in the Realm of Idea. “Gods” and their associated realms may very well exist in some form in the Realm of Idea. Concepts that completely break rather than bend our own reality may now be imposed upon our universe, through purpose or accident. These things were previously unable to interact with our universe due to the lack of magic as an intermediary, but they are now free to do so.

In my professional opinion, despite all the good that magic can be used for, a method of sealing or severely restricting magic must be found with all haste, or our world may face much more problematic situations than war and political strife.

>>54981021
>Because you welcomed me into your lives, I have been able to learn so much more about your kind. I have been able to see all sorts of wonderful things that I could never have imagined seeing back home. Your world has a special balance with its own technology that I can guarantee will truly special no matter where I go, and I don't want to lose it as much as you do.

>Please. You must believe in me. I want to save your world.

Humanity responded to her call. For one entire day, the world protested to its leaders to continue fighting. Soldiers, scientists, civilians, everyone took part in the marching. After that day, the leaders of the world came together and granted our Iron Angel the power to save us all again. She was even given a special pin just to commemorate it.

We only had two days remaining when we finally began our last offensive. In that time, the Iron Legions reforged their forces to push against us, building all sorts of new weapons in order to prevent us from stealing them again. Our Angel, she instantly took to the skies to fight that mothership. In our efforts to help her out, we launched a rocket into space, filled with the most powerful warhead we could build. It was guaranteed to demolish whatever it was set off on. She noticed this immediately when the fleets began targeting it, and so she set off to defend it - even at the cost of her own safety.

That's what led us to this moment. She had suffered serious damage protecting our last resort, but she managed to reach the heart of the mothership. The warhead also contained a small camera we were using to record our last moments. I guess she figured it out too because she stopped and looked right at us.

>Thank you, mankind. You believed in me. You took me in like I was one of your own. You gave me the summation of all your belief in me as your savior. I don't know if I'll make it out of here, but...If I do, I promise that I'will. I love you, Planet Earth. Thank you for everything.

>>54981884
>This is a thread for creative writing of /tg/-related fiction,so epic campaign greentexts and other non-fiction goes ELSEWHERE.

Congratulations on the successful rolls anon but you failed your perception check. As punishment you have to post a short story and seriously critique another anons story. Welcome to !not /lit/ enjoy your stay.

Hey, I'm the guy from a few weeks ago who was doing the LCB rewrite.

While it's still looking like it's a long way away from being completed, I've cleaned up the prologue and first chapter of our current draft as a sneak preview of sorts. Bear in mind that a lot of this is still likely to undergo changes in the future, so if something in the story seems off or if there's something better you think could be done with it, tell me.

As said preview is still 20 pages long and would likely eat up half the thread if I posted it all here, I'm linking it as a google doc. Have fun.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1J9X9e6qlLgO6foTu5Xrs1uh9WQQpB-Tn0KNhtWZHrpA/edit

>>54989545
I think you need to change your permissions on your google doc to allow everyone

>>54967298

Funny scene that conveys a good sense of the character's relationship along with some depth and history.

You gotta be careful jumping around from character to character when you have such a close psychic distance. This is something I need to work on a lot too, but when you zoom in on a character and their specific actions, you gotta stick with them for a bit. Otherwise you get an effect like Wand of Gamalon.

>>54989857
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1J9X9e6qlLgO6foTu5Xrs1uh9WQQpB-Tn0KNhtWZHrpA/edit?usp=sharing

Try it now.

>>54989545
>>54989857
>>54990867
okay, it works now.

My first impression is that a lot of your prose is overwritten. Especially the prologue; it gets somewhat better after that. You need to cut out some stuff, and not use such overly-formal language.

The actual structure of the story is reasonably engaging. Switching back and forth between the commander and the assassin works quite well in terms of pacing. However, I feel like you should have given the audience a better idea of why an Imperial Assassin is stalking alongside an Imperial Guard regiment (and for those not familiar with Warhammer, give a sense of why this is unusual).

In terms of dialogue you're more or less okay, except with the commander - again, when you try to use more formal language it doesn't work. He just comes off as awkward and pompous.

Then there are some minor editing issues littered throughout. Stuff like using 'moral' instead of 'morale', awkward sentence structures, etc.

tl;dr The story itself has potential but there are technical aspects of your writing that need work.

>>54991642
Ironically enough, I've been told my prose is more beige than purple most of the time, so at least I have that. Still, I figure that there's no harm in trimming out some of the proverbial fat, and I'll keep that in mind for the later chapters when those are readied for posting (whenever that might be).

I'm glad to hear the structure is solid, though; I was worried for a while that the shifts might grow jarring, especially when it starts shifting between more than just two viewpoints later on. If anyone has any tips on how to keep those transitions as smooth as possible, I'd like to hear them.

I thought I got rid of most of the typos in those sections when I was readying it for posting, but apparently there's still more to be done. Curse spellchecking for not accounting for context...

At any rate, all of those things are good to know, and I'll pass this all this along to my co-writer as well. With luck, the finished product will be all the better for it.

>>54990867
I have an inherent problem with reading fanfiction for established settings, especially for settings I don't much care for, so I'm really struggling to get through it. That said, reading the introduction, I'm going to very much say the opposite of what >>54991642 said:

It's very pleasant and refreshing to see a prologue that does not throw us in media res, and that actually provides a discussion that allows even a person unfamiliar with the settings settle in and hear about problems that are relatively comprehensible and relatable. There is a common obsession with "cutting down everything that isn't 100% necessary" in modern (especially amateur) writing, but I honestly don't think it's a healthy approach.

I honestly like the introduction. I also don't necessarily find it over-written. Of course there is a space for improvement and maybe some things could be put together more elegantly, but I don't think that is a matter of word-count or misuse of clarificators or adjectives. Just polish.
In fact I'd argue that more pompous style of writing might be fitting the subject matter and settings.

It's actually after the introduction where you start to lose me, because the language becomes matter-of-factly and I get quickly overloaded with events that frankly I can't assign much relevance, that you start to lose me. That said, from there on the story should really be judged by people more qualified than I am.

What I'm saying is basically - it's good to ask for elegance in writing, it's good to ask if each word you use is actually enhancing your message, but don't fall into the trappings of "don't use adjectives unless completely necessary, don't waste readers time on musings". It's a pitfall very common on this site and it's really not always the best advice.

>>54992291
I see. You both have points, to be fair. The tough part is knowing where the right balance might be. I guess only trial and error can answer that question.

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>>54992364
Well, I found it that it helps to sit down and underline all the words that might even remotely be at danger of being excessive. Basically it's usually all forms of adjectives and adverbs, redundancies, similies and symblisms etc... and ask yourself, one by one, how exactly are they supposed to expand the meaning of the sentence or the context of the story.
For an example, I once set out to write a story about insomnia and about how I hate it when I hear birds already singing when I'm just getting to bed, and somehow it turned out into a story about a man learning to accept that his daughter succumbed to an illness (don't ask how that happened).
Anyway, when I was done I went through the story and looked my use of expanding parts of the text and asked myself if they expand on the core theme: often finding replacements that would in some way invoke themes of hospital, health, illness, or delusion. It seemed to improve the story and people enjoyed it more when I circulated the two versions among my friends.

That is basically my point: people seem to value brevity often for brevity sake, but I'm more convinced that brevity is meaningless unless the THEME of the story is enhanced by it. Think of each part of your text as a little tool that you use to nudge the reader towards some form of impression. Your adjectives don't serve to make the text richer - they should serve to make the text stronger, it's themes more clear, or more coherent.

That is my take on it. I'm rambling a bit, sorry.

>>54992364
'Ask not the fa/tg/uys a question, for they will give you three answers, all of which are true and completely unhelpful.'

- Inquisitor Anon

What's this threads opinion on namefagging? Does it help moniter anon's progress as writers or is it a platform for attention Whores? Is namefagging allowed in these threads besides OP? Is it frowned upon?

>>54993875
As far as I can judge, namefagging is not at all scorned around here, especially if you post text. It actually makes things easier to read and I don't know of a single case of anyone actually ever being mad over it.

I used to use name (though at first I was really fucking hesitant to use it) after people started recognizing similarities between posts and started asking me if I'm the same person, sometimes turning to me more specifically... Seemed a bit useful.
But since I stopped posting regularly, I dropped the name.

We have number of regular posters that post under the same name across multitude of threads. Some people seek their stories specifically.
So no. It's not inherently frowned upon. Just use it responsibly (e.g. only when it actually makes things more convenient for others).

>>54993875
I almost never used to use a name when posting my stories, since I believed in letting a story stand on its own merits. But I've started to come around to the idea - it helps build a sense of community if people can link a story to some sort of identity, however ephemeral. Given how few of us there are in these threads, it might help people to stick around if they feel like they know the other posters on some level. Plus, I think stories with names attached - even new names - get more attention, just because it catches the eye more than another post by 'Anonymous'.

Not that there's anything wrong with deciding to remain anonymous - this is 4chan after all.

From a practical standpoint, it makes it easier for me to keep track of which posts belong with which stories when the time comes to screencap them for the wiki page.

>>54985682
That was the last message our Iron Angel sent to us. It was broadcast across every channel, on every computer, as we all saw the mothership implode into a massive display of fireworks. I doubt the world ever cried any harder than it did within those few minutes, realizing that our salvation had given its life to save us. What we just watched was her goodbye.

I've looked up at the sky every night since then. We all have. We're all up there, wishing that she'd give a sign that she'd return. Heck, I heard they even began forming a church to her. I haven't joined in on that, I really just can't really accept it as just myth.

Last week, there was a meteorite shower fall over here. In my backyard was what looked like a hand. I still have that hand, and I don't intend to give it away. It's my proof that the Iron Angel was real, and no matter what happens, whether they build a hundred more like her or not, they're never going to replace the one that saved us. She's going to stay in my mind and heart, never to be forgotten.

>>54989545
i have come from the future to tell you to quit

>>54948461
"You're safe, you're safe," it mumbled.

It spoke with the voice of a man. But she couldn't think of it as anything but it. There was an instinct, even in a child, to recognize what was human. And she knew the thing before her wasn't. Cass stood stock still, paralyzed as it stumbled forward, and fell towards her. Another instinct. Terror gripped her. She couldn't bear to look at it, or at the blood stained mess in the snow behind it. So she stared down, at her hand, at the cut in her palm, dripping blood on the snow.

She opened her mouth, tried to speak, as it shifted up on hands and knees, abhorrent in shape.

"Safe, safe," growled out from under the rags that draped the monstrous form of the creature. It shifted up, reached out for her, and brought her close. Cass tried to pull away, but a child's strength against a monster was no contest. She fell to her knees, as it shuffled closer. The acrid reek of death filled her nose.

"Cold? Are you cold?" It asked.

She tried to work out an answer. To cry or scream. Nothing.

"Cold. You are cold," In the snow it shuffled closer. It didn't give warmth, but it blotted out the wind, "No worry. No worry. Bad people screamed loud. Good people will be here. Be here soon."

"What," She whispered out. The thing was patting her on the back of her head.

"Don't know. Don't know me yet. Will soon. Curse. I am a curse. I regret," Cass felt something drip on her. Drip past her. The foul stench concentrated. She didn't flinch any more though. Her naked knees were numb in the snow. The thing was melting now, staining the snow black.

"You know me. You know me soon. Not now. I curse. I am cursed. Keep you safe. You keep me safe. You're safe," The rags started to drift down with the black sludge as it melted into the ground, "You're safe."

When the rest of the Duke's men found their lord's wayward child, she was kneeling in the snow, with six dead assailants spread about the field. She never explained what happened.

>>55000493
"BRING ME WINE FROM HARRENWHORE!"

>>55000493
>>55002890
>Rob Baratheon posting in my storythread

FAT BOOOOOAR!!!!!

>>55000493
A BOOAARRRRRRRRRRRR, NED!!!!
I'VE BEEN TRANSFORMED INTO A BOOAARRRRRRRRRRRR, WITH A DOTTHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAKKKKI WHHOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRREEE AT ITS BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

>>55000493
>>55002890
>>55002954
>>55002977
>bobbyposting in my storythread
I suppose harrenhal is off the table as well?

>>55002890
>>55002954
>>55002977
>>55003451
...
I'm confused

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Come on, you are too young to die!

>>55016718
Shit forgot the name.

>>55003451
ITS A HARREN- WHORRE!!!!!!!

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>>55000493
>>55002890
>>55002954
>>55002977
>>55003451
>>55018271

>mfw all this /bobby/ /tv/ posting but no /bobby/ images.

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To all the /tv/ /bobby/ posters:

BOOOOOW BEFORE YOUR BOOOOOAAAAAR YOU SHITS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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>>55003451

>I suppose harrenhal is off the table as well?

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>>55003451
AAAUUUUGH!

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>>55000493
>>55018271
>>55019348
>>55003451

More wine my grace?

>>55018271
>>55019219
>>55019348
>>55019360
>>55019507
How about you take your annoying /tv/ memes somewhere that people actually care?
Yeah. Game of Thrones exist. Amazing. Totally not forced and reddit like at all.

/tv/ memes are the worst, but I though only /v/ was dumb enough to parrot them this way.

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AHHH SAVE ME RENLY

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>>55019554
I guess you should blame the guy who posted the first /bobby/ image here in the first place >>55000493

The rest of the people here probably thought figured to roll with it because memes.

>>55019585
>The rest of the people here probably thought figured to roll with it because memes.
But that is precisely my issue. This "let's role with it because memes!" bullshit. That is a fucking annoying attitude, and this is really the worst place to do it.

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>>55019672
>and this is really the worst place to do it.
What? Serious discussion fags have been made fun of since the dawning days of imageboards. This is what 4chan is. As overused as this statement is, if you really want to browse a site where serious discussion is enforced and people who steer out of topic slightly get banned go to reddit.

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>>55019730
Except no. These threads in particular has been working fucking wonders for well over year now. The site is going to shit because people like you excuse those who shit it up. Your fucking excuses about how "this is how it always has been" (when it was not, and this fucking thread is a living proof of that) are the only real reason why things are going off the hill.

So how about you just don't. YOU are shitting the place up for the others. And then you go and "well that is your problem, this is how things always have been..."
No. Shitty meme circlejerks have been what defined Reddit in the first place, so how about you go there, to score your little upvotes for your hillarious meme image macros. After all: all you are doing is begging for attention by posting "shared community tokens" and craving that everybody would recognize you as "one of us". I can assure you, reddit general or even 9gag are the actual proper places to do that.

These threads are functional system of people with niche interests that are enjoying themselves. Why do you barge in and shit it up, then talk condescendingly to them how it's their own fault for going to board that you also go to?
Maybe it's you who is in the wrong place right now.
After all, archives of hundreds of write-fag threads being a civil place of talk about fantasy-related writing prove you wrong here.

>>55019783
I shuppose

>>55019783
There are no "excuses", there is no "shitting up". You're acting as if the people who jump on memes to have fun are some outside force who are consciously making a decision to ruin your day. They aren't, this comes naturally to them because this is what the board culture is and has been. This is the the way communication is done here. When people tell to you that "this is how it always has been" they aren't excusing anything, they are just pointing out to you that you are wrong.

Reassess your statements with this in mind.

>>55019783
>when it was not, and this fucking thread is a living proof of that

You are a liar.

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Memes are fine on this board but not in this thread. Please take it elsewhere. You would get way more (you)'s in an asioaf thread or a stat me thread if youre looking to shitpost those memes on /tg/ and not /tv/, hell even /v/ might be more appropriate.

>>55027296
Her face suggest that she was in now way cut to that kind of post to begin with. Makes me feel like writing a story about the absurd series of bad choices, parental meddling, nepotisms, PC dances, commisars for diversity, accidental favor buying fucks she had to do to find herself in that particular position.

If I knew anything more about this image ˇ(is it random or based on some setting, world?) I could maybe even work with it.

>>55027385

>Her face suggest that she was in now way cut to that kind of post to begin with
>You can tell a lot about a man by his face

Shut the fuck up.

>>54999598

Good speed, good plot, good mystery. Cool characters with nice personality. I have stylistic problems with your syntax but that is 100% me being a sperg.

You have taught me a lot, thank you.

>>55027473
>You can tell a lot about a man by his face
Well if that man who is in armor cries like an absolute bitch when being subdued, yeah. If it's a girl, then the string of coincequences might have been even worse than I'd assume about man.

Her completely combat-non-approved hair and the mascara further prove that she was most likely not on her place.

Seriously, is that from identifiable universe? LIke WH fantasy or something, where I could look for more inspiration? I kinda feel like writing this one.

>>55002890
>>55002954
>>55002977
>>55003451
>>55019219
>>55019348
>>55019360
>>55019507
>>55019540
>>55019568
>>55019585
If you're going to post overused /tv/ memes, at least do it creatively and in keeping with the topic of the thread.

https://1d4chan.org/images/a/a6/TheFireRises.png

>>55019783
>>55019830
>>55019847
>well over year now
actually they've been a regular thing since March 2015, when I decided to run them. I know, it doesn't seem like two and a half years, but here we are. And they were an occasional thing long before that.

And yes, they actually mostly manage to avoid devolving into mindless shitposting, which is practically unique for 4chan so we'd like to keep them that way. A little memeposting here and there is nothing to get worked up about - especially if it actually brings people into the thread. Just don't be dicks about it, okay?

>>55028159
Christ, put your boner away and use the image search function.

https://www.artstation.com/artwork/8B2bw

>>55028159
https://youtu.be/vYGjOWQ0W6I?t=1m46s

>Her completely combat-non-approved hair and the mascara further prove that she was most likely not on her place.

You can tie you hair into a bun and mascara take half a second to do. Also if they are in a setting where guns are a thing then those details matter even less.

>>55027517
Kind of curious, what about the syntax?

>>55031890

Sentence fragments, starting with "And" "But"

>>55031914
Goood points those. It's not grammatically correct and all and can be kind of obnoxious if overused (Which I do) but it's a stylistic thing I've picked up on. I have to learn to manage that.

>>55029028
Forgive me man, I just saw some tv meme that does make me chuckle and figured I be one of the schmucks that jump in the meme wagon. Sorry again>>55029028

Is erotica often posted in these threads?

>>55032132

Like I said, it worked out. The only way to really hone your style more is with larger writing projects.

>>55035437
Often would be an exaggeration, but it's been known to happen.

>>55035437
Not by anyone good at it after the /wst/ debacle.

>>55036487
/wst/ debacle? Please forgive my newfaggism and spoon food me.

>>55037315
Weekly smut thread. If you want to know more try searching 1d4chan

>>55036459
Would it be erroneous to write for this thread with the intention of writing smutty literature for review?

>>55041891
Hey, as long as it's a /tg/ related story you can post it here. Whether you like smut or not, you can hardly argue that smut and traditional games (both the hobby and the 4chan board) aren't related.

Can't promise anyone will read it, but that's the risk we all take.

>>55038884
weekend smut thread, actually.

>>55037264
Go back to /d/

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"Not this time."

>>55035480
>>55027517
>>55031914
Sorry, I forgot to thank you for reading it. I do appreciate it, and your criticism was constructive, and praise brought a great bit of warm feeling.