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>>47820601
by the way, sorry I haven't updated the wiki for a while. I'll get on it as soon as I can, I promise, but I've been ill all week (and I got like 2 hours sleep last night). Don't worry, I do still have everything saved.

So, I was planning on starting a story based off my TW:WH campaign, but I forgot to do it. So I am gonna do that here if it is within the rules.

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>>47820813
sure

Kolt woke up in the pre dawn gloom, listening intently to the sounds around him. He knew he should be sleeping. The gods knew he needed it. Yet his nerves were so tensed he could barely keep his eyes open. He had scrubbed his pistol clean so many times it was as spotless as if it were fresh from the forges of Nuln. His rapier might as well be made from gromril.

All for naught. He couldn't fall asleep. After tossing and turning in his pallet for hours he was now putting on his armor and listening to the silence and the gloom. Life as a mercenary had made him wary, and the nights before battles were always the worst. He heard the sound of boots trodding over grass and twigs and heading towards him. Kolt was debating on leveling his pistol at the flap of the tent when a soldier in the livery of the reiksguard poked his head in his tent.

"The reiksmarshall bids you to hold the right. The bretonnians will attack from the center and force the norscan vanguard towards the forest. They may attempt to break through at your positions." Not entirely unexpected. Being an anvil meant your losses would be heavy. On the plus side, it would make the remaining men all the richer. Sadly for him, his soldiers were largely veterans too, who had been fighting the forces of chaos and had survived a lot more.

He nodded to the reiksguard knight and tried falling asleep once more.

Voicefag here, I might try doing a reading of some of the stories in this thread next week if the thread lasts that long.

>>47822321

People often wondered if the Iron Satropies would see better days. Just a year after the ill-waged war against the Kingdom of Autzberg, the great realms of the Iron Brigand fell into ruin. A failed nation in all but name. Even with its collapse Fate did not seem content with simply letting the people of the Satropies languish in their defeat and the death of the beloved warlord; a plague swept through the fertile farmlands of Yohnsbad and withered the crops. The farmers who toiled for years to feed kin and country could only watch helplessly as their season long labors shriveled into worthless piles of black rot. With its agriculture fallen and its coffers already drained from pointless warring, the rest of the Iron Satropies fell like domino tiles.

Otzgard, Pfeffielstadt, Mordapest, and the dozen other realms of the Iron Brigand saw its people turn to the sword to fill their bellies. But rather than earn their keep with a soldier's pay, they took what they wanted as marauders. Whole villages became raider camps, families warred with each other over petty resources, and chaos ruled within the failed domain of the Iron Brigand. Though no one outside the borders thought any different of it, because it has happened before. After all, when a land is to be ruled by bandits for decades, what is to say that its people would not be capable of banditry as well?

>(1/hell if I know)

Just trying to get a feel for my own prose as I make shit up as I go. Feedback is welcome.

>>47820601
Thanks for the plug, Chronicler!

>>47822215
>>47823046
You have a good sense of dripping in backstory. No exposition dumps. It's a rare quality.

Cyberpunk girls on motorcycles got editted and submitted to The Bard, and now I wait

And I paint minis and stare at my rewrite of Julia.

>>47824001
Huh. Thanks.

Not gonna lie, a lot of that diddy was inspired by Glenn Cook's pretty cool Black Company saga. Paced like a donkey, but doesn't skimp on the little stuff.

Might as well continue my little diddy once I get some stuff out of the way.

>>47823046
Kars knew little of the Iron Satropies' history, knowing only for certain that whatever the realms' history maybe, his fellow Ironborn likened it to that of a brackish well. Dark, murky, and certainly nothing any sane man would reach into. The little he actually knew came from his own family's history. His father's father plied the trade of a marauder for almost his whole life, serving as a soldier only briefly before. The last Iron Brigand's predecessor died by the hands of that age old foe, Autzberg, at the zenith of his reign, slain without even an heir to his name. Without a central leader to march behind, his generals turned on each other, leading what remained of his loyal soldiers while those who abandoned the army returned home to penniless and starving families. So predictably, his grandfather and many other desperate men became freebooters.

It would be in a raid on the border villages of Otzgard and his own native Yohnsbad that Kars' grandfather found his wife-to-be and brought her home in iron chains, just as the splintered army butchered itself to a man, with the last lieutenant standing taking the empty throne. It explains why his father was never a happy man and certainly explains why Kars himself never grew a happy man as well. No love came about from union, only a child who would only know careless parents, who grew up to be a careless parent too.

"Gods damn the departed..."

Like his grandfather before him, an ill-waged war left Kars with nothing, and desperate enough to join other desperate men in looting the land for whatever is left. But Kars and his fellows did not have it in themselves to raid their fellow Ironborn, and could not find the courage to try the borders of the age old enemy. So they tried the borders of an easier target, and so Kars found himself waiting atop of a sun bleached palisade of ruined border fort, eyes lazily searching for anything to come with crossbow range. Hopefully something tasty.

>(2/hell if I know)

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So last thread, this fabulous gets-winning motherfucker >>47766622 asked that instead of having Eldar /ss/ be foiled by the law, have the shota be happily adopted.

>I have no fucking clue what sort of degenerate would want this, but what do I know?

The planet of Inassa was evacuated with haste, its inhabitants now on the Craftworld Aenehas long before a warp storm started. To the Craftworld's surprise, however, it was clear that now all the inhabitants were of Eldar blood.

Among those was a young boy. Nobody was sure where he came from, but all he did was cry. He was lost, after all. His home was now gone and nobody knew where his family was, if he had any. For the Eldar, the fate of a single mon-keigh, infant or not, meant so little. They ignored him.

And yet, not all Eldar were as cruel to the child's plight.
To the Howling Banshee Exarch known as Arisleth, it was a mirror to the past. The scene was one that played in her mind a hundred times before: Home burning, parents lost, nobody listening. She remembered it all too well. It was decades ago, her home was sacked by an unholy force. Her only salvation lay in the hands of a Howling Banshee, just as she was now. It was how she joined this path, to follow in her savior's footsteps.
She notices the boy lost in the middle of the Craftworld. catching the attention and disappointment of her nearby kin. She feels no contempt, though; she only feels sympathy, to know that sort of primal pain, to be shunted to the path of a loner. Arisleth approaches the boy.
"Little boy," she asks, "why are you out here?" The boy continues weeping, unable to hear her. "Where are your parents?"
The question halts the boy. His crying stops, and he finally realizes that he has company. "Who are you?" was his first question. His eyes are still red, but for the moment, he is calmed.

Arisleth seats herself on his level. "I am Arisleth." Her face remains calm as she introduces herself. "Now, what is wrong?"

>>47826324
>key kid wanna Strike Scorpions.jpg

>>47826324
The boy sniffs. The plan is already working. "M-my parents...! I can't find them!"
It's already looking so similar to her memory. The Exarch's temper is starting to strain, but her training allows her to suppress her feelings. She takes his hand, holding it between her own. "Please, be calm. I will help you, but I want you to help me."
The hand was small, soft, and delicate. It felt almost like her own, but her hands were hardened by years of war and bloodshed. Though it was soothing to the child to have someone touching him, it was only making Arisleth more on edge. She had never felt a human's hand like this before, and her inexperience is showing in a faint blush.

"Th-thank you, miss..." he blushes more visibly. "Um, my name is Danny."
Arisleth smiles. "It's nice to meet you, Danny."
A moment passes like this, with little Danny feeling his newfound friend's hands while looking at her delicate, ethereally beautiful face. Even to the boy, who was as suspicious of the alien as they were of him, he thought Arisleth pretty. "Um, miss?"
"Yes, Danny?"
His face turns red like a sun. "I...I think you're really pretty!"
The Exarch's face reddens, but she quickly snaps out of it before he notices with a smile. "Thank you! I'm happy to hear that!"

It was at this time that the two were met by a Farseer.
"My my, Arisleth~!" She cattily remarks, "I never knew you could be so friendly!" Unlike the Exarch, her hair was loose and flowing, and her appearance far more thin.
"Farseer Elrias?" The appearance catches Arisleth off-guard. The Farseer chuckles.
Elrias then smiles wide, with her eyes deceptively shut. "And this must be the lost soul who ended up here! I must say, he looks rather cute!" The Farseer joins them, leaning closely at the young boy.
"Please, Danny. Don't mind the Farseer," the Exarch grabs Danny closer. "She is a rather flighty one, and she enjoys playing with people."
Elrias pouts. "That's mean! I do not mess with people!"

>>47827974
As an aside, she mutters, "At least not with people I like..."
"Thank you for helping me."
"Oh, think nothing of it!" the Farseer laughs. "I'm more happy to find someone that my sister here likes!"
The comment jerks Arisleth, turning her face redder than ever. "Farseer!" Elrias chuckles again.
"Oh, alright!" the blonde Eldar loudly sighs. "Now I want to know..." she places a spindly hand upon the boy's face, and in that instant, their minds link. Despite being of different species, the Farseer's complex mind and psychic mastery allowed her to read Danny's mind and his memories like a picture book. There was no detail she could not notice.

What she saw was fire. Storms of impossibility tearing through the world, indiscriminately destroying Eldarin and human settlement. She saw the bodies of innocents twisted by Chaos. She saw a frightened boy running for his dear life, exhausting himself the moment he reached a webway gate, and then being carried the rest of the way by the rushing tide of evacuees. The whole time, Elrias felt Danny's panic, his terror. She constantly had thoughts about where his parents were. These simple feelings were strong, stronger than the refined and multifaceted emotions Eldar felt, almost to the point of overpowering her common sense.

"Farseer?" Arisleth's question jerks her out of her trance to realize that her friends were looking at her. "Farseer, is everything alright?"
The Farseer feels her face to realize she was on the verge of tears. "Oh, oh! I'm...I'm sorry if I scared you. It's just...those emotions were really...strong." She takes special attention at Danny, tending to his own tears. "I'm sorry, Danny. I don't want you to be uncomfortable, but... If you want anything, anything at all, then don't hesitate to ask either of us."
"Um, miss Elrias?" Danny interrupts. "If it's not embarrassing, then...can I...?" Before she could ask, he runs towards the Farseer.

>>47828889
The boy wraps his arms around the slender Farseer and buries his head on her mane.
For once, it was now Elrias' turn to be shocked. The warmth of a young boy's embrace was having an unsettling calm over her, and despite her training forcing her to keep composure at all times, she was enjoying this little light. She replies in kind, cradling his head in her arms.
"Such a cute child," she coos.

"Farseer!" Arisleth breaks up the moment. "Are you sure you should be coddling him like that?"
Elrias grins as she eases Danny away. "Oh? Is the fearsome Exarch jealous that her prey has feelings for someone other than her?"
"N-no!" She protested. "Stop being nonsensical!" Despite her insistence, her face was getting redder at the display of shameless interspecies bonding, an act that could be considered savage to a sophisticated species like the Craftworlders.
"Oh, come now!" The Farseer assures her. "Now, Danny. Is there anything you'd like to say to Arisleth?"
"Um, yes!" Danny eagerly hops off to run to the Exarch and then stands on his tip-toes. The hurried rush surprises both Eldar, but only Elrias expresses this in an amused snickering. This surprise turns into shock the moment Danny's lips purse together and touch the Exarch's cheek.
"Now that's not fair!" Elrias pouts. "Where's my kiss?"
The dazed Exarch snaps to, "Um, yes! I found him first, so I get his first kiss!"
"My~! I never knew you as territorial!"
The Farseer's tease hit its mark. The Exarch's composure was shuddered. "Ah-of course I'm not! I-it's just that I met him first, so..."
The Farseer giggles. "Oh, it's fine if you like her more than me." The teasing had a different effect on Danny though, who runs over and repeats his clumsy kiss for her. "Oh, thank you~! Such a sweet boy!"

The next hour or two continued in their back-and-forth game, seeing what sort of embarrassing feats they could convince Danny to do, from rubbing their shoulders to kissing their hair and riding on their shoulders.

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>>47824848
"Kars, spot anything yet?"

The question came on the raspy growl of Kars' closest friend, Blada. Shared a childhood together on the farmlands with him, now they share the same pang of hungry running through their guts. He was a scrawny and scabby man, compared to Kars' burly and hairy figure, but a life of hard labor made him as tough as they come.

Kars shook his head, saying, "Nothing yet. Damnable Goths haven't shown up all morning, no caravan. No scouts. Hell, not even a patrol."

He cursed his luck but not the people to the South. He hardly could, the people of the so-called "Holy Empire of Goth" were a meek and timid people united under a faith for the weak. They could pray to their Maker all day, but a god that promises nothing but forgiveness and love will not invoke courage in the face of adversity anytime soon. Then again, the old gods rarely show any favor to today's people. Not since the days of the first Iron Brigand.

"Hmph, typical of them. It's probably their prayer day," Blada growled, shrugging his shoulders. "All nice and comfy in their churches, sipping wine and hard tack. Not baking in this sorry excuse for an outpost..."

Kars nodded to that. Hastily built by the now long-gone militia of the region, the fort had no stone walls or carved battlements, just a giant ring of raised packed earth, reinforced with a palisade of dried out logs and two rickety watchtowers flanking the fort's sole gate. It had been abandoned since the war's end, free for the taking.

"Well, hopefully something comes," Kars grunted. "If not, then the boss will be cutting rations again. Speaking of which, where's Haster's mob? They should be back by now." Haster was the camp's best outrider, having been an actual cavalry sergeant during the war. It would also make him the only veteran fighter in the whole camp.

Again Blada shrugged.

"Just haven't shown up yet. You know how that bastard is, always dragging his feet... Oi, see that?"

>(3/hell if I know)

>>47830100
It was all innocent things, meant to show just how cute he was. Eventually, though, night came to the Craftworld, and the lights died down. Their game was only interrupted when they heard a rumbling. Danny's pause was the only clue that it was his stomach that made the noise.
"I say, this was rather stimulating," Elrias smiles. "Now, Danny. How would you like to join your big sisters and eat dinner?"
Danny asked, "Are you sure? Is it okay that I follow you?"
"Now, now, Danny!" the Farseer pats his head. "I promise that we'll keep you safe for as long as you want to be with us. Now, if you want to betray that trust, we can tell the whole Craftworld about the savage things you did to two innocent maidens..."
"I'll go! I'll go!" The Farseer smirks, her possibly-innocent blackmail successful. Danny hurries along, conscious of her new big sisters, while Arisleth could only stare at her in disappointment.

So began the process of accepting little Danny into their hearts. While never able to fully join the Craftworld in its activities, Arisleth and Elrias were more than happy to play with the human boy and teaching him about Eldar culture. Despite growing up clearly like a human, the two women still cherished him as their brother, or perhaps like a son. To the two of them, he precious like a fellow Eldar and they dedicated everything they had to protect this one boy's smile despite his heritage. That was the power he had over them, and it overpowered them totally.

---Some Years Later---
Danny was the first to emerge from the Wave Serpent, clad in mesh armor. He was immediately set upon by Elrias, to the amusement of his fellow Guardians.
"Sis! Why so soon after I left?" Despite being so much taller, it still embarrasses him to be tackled by the motherly Farseer.
"No, not 'Sis'!" She traces his chin. "It's 'Darling'! Unless..."
"But today was supposed to be Arisleth's..."
She snarls. "I knew I should have spent the night with you! Now there's this big gap...!"

>>47831133
"The only gap is in your head," They both hear a voice behind them. Arisleth, now wearing a suit more suited to a naval officer, intercepts them. "He's mine too."
"Come on!" Danny tries to struggle free. "I can't be doing this all the time! Now all the guys are making fun of me for falling in love with my sisters!"
"You innocent little boy!" The Farseer teases him, "There's still so much for you to learn."
The ex-Exarch bops her on the head, "Enough! It's been an eventful week for Danny, and I think we both owe it to him to have dinner together."
The human smiles. "Of course! I'd love to join you, sisters!"
Elrias pecks him on the cheek. "You're such a sweetie. Now let's go, I'm sure you have a lot to tell us."

Danny smiled as he locked arms with his sisters. It was clear to everyone present: he was lonely no more, not as long as these two were with him. They were all he needed to be happy.

>>47822215
It seemed that he had put his head down and closed it out when he heard the abominable trumpet going off. The relative stillness of the camp was broken by a dull roar, the kind that an army makes when it is called to break camp. The silence had been shattered by the sound of yells, bellows drums and flutes. He cursed and got up from the sleeping pallet, his head thundering like a brayherd of beastmen was running inside his skull.

"Company, Form UP!" The last word came out as a shriek. The last battle against the remnants of the hordes of chaos, and here Kolt was, screeching like an old frau. Thankfully his men didn't notice that, or at least made no motion that they had. Kolt had the bad luck of not growing a beard or a mustache. It made him look younger, a bit too young in fact. It was annoying when he was mistaken for a page by Bretonnian knights or a drummer by the Reiksmarshall.

His soldiers were forming up in a column. Two pikemen for each handgunner. All good hardened men who wouldn't break when a chaos spawn looked at them funny. They had been nearly a thousand when they started. Now they were two hundred and fifty. The pay was good, but no matter how big the bags of imperial crowns were, they couldn't compare to the hazard of fighting against whatever it was his men fought against.

Kolt had lost all track of time. Some lord with a fat purse needed some men because some graf had offended the emperor. Kolt was happy to take the pay. He was sick of fighting roving bands of orcs in the badlands for turnips. A tour in the empire during it's time of civil strife, some looting, some pay and he could retire. Of course fate had determined otherwise.

Kolt had never seen the plunder. Just as his employer was about to declare war on a neighboring province, the forces of chaos launched their assault on the world. Old rivalries were buried at the drop of a floppy hat and the Badlander Third had found itself at the forefront of the fight for the world.

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Wonder if the guy who made a story for >>47622584 is still gonna complete this: >>47720368

If not, hopefully someone does a story of it; Setting with modern-industrial human civilization sending their military to fantasy magic lands with such hi jinks like this.

>>47834404
That would be nice actually. A lot of good ones never get finished it seems

>>47833446
And here they were at it's end. Kolt supposed that there was to be some sort of poetic meaning behind this. But of course there was all the accrued payment that he and his men were owed.

He stopped thinking about the thousands of crowns he would get soon and looked at the men that were around him. Most of them looked positively drab compared to even the state troopers. The company of greatswords to their left made them look like a bunch of reanimated corpses. Even as they began marching to the drums there was a ripple of laughter as one of the greatswords pointed at his column and said something.

"Don't bother lads, the peacocks are not worth it." His men muttered something about ponces and bretonnian peasants and kept on marching. Any argument when the army was deploying would mean less money. No need to stumble at the end.

The forest loomed right next to them. The forces of chaos were drawn near it's eaves, and Kolt saw that they had kept a respectable distance from the forest. He knew that the forest was dangerous. Bretonnians might despise mercenaries and the dogs of war even more than the men of the empire, but they made use of them all the same. Peasants levies were better at running away than holding their ground.

Bretonnians distrusted the forest of Athel Loren and held it to be cursed. And of course the gods and the reiksmarshall had decided to stick his unit next to it.

Their job was to make sure that the forces of chaos didn't spring an ambush or outflank them from the forest. An important task, and hopefully an unnecessary one. Even the hordes of chaos wouldn't be insane enough to brave the forest of Athel Loren.

His men muttered darkly as the batteries of great cannons began to be deployed right behind them. They were at the base of a small hillock, and being the highest place on the battlefield, it was an ideal place for deploying artillery.

so, did anyone read what I wrote so far?

>>47837495
it helps if you link what you've written already so we know which one you are

if you're >>47836562
then the prose is okay, but nothing much has happened yet.

>>47830837

Kars turned to see where his friend had pointed. Riders far across the dirt valley, too far to discern what colors they don or what beasts they ride. They were getting closer to the fort. He turned around and looked to the sparesly populated compound below.

"Hey, we got riders coming from the south! Someone get the peering glass!" He shouted. Men below scrambled, a few clambering up the walls and taking positions while others rushed for their weapons, strewn about the parade grounds. One man rushed over Kars and Blada, dressed in dark clothing and chainmail, clutching a brass tube in his hand.

"Kars! Where the riders?!" The man growled through yellow rotted teeth.

"Directly south, there boss!" Kars jabbed a finger down the horizon at the encroaching figures. Boss was the usual name for Karl, who, by virtue of being the best equipped and meanest of this mob of looters, ruled the sparse border fort like a lordling.

Kars kept his eyes on the vague shapes in the distance as his leader peered through the peculiar brass tool. A useful tool for spotting things the naked eye could not find, though how a man like Karl came to possess a reportedly rare and fragile thing Kars will never know.

"Well? What is it, what do you see?" Kars asked with a rising urgency. He pulled a quarrel from the quiver leashed to his thigh and pressed it into his crossbow.

"Well?"

"Shut up, you dung pest!"

Karl hissed a cursed through gritted teeth and pulled the peering glass from his eye. "Gods count the dead..."

Kars noticed his boss draw a throwing axe from his belt loop and take a deep heaving breath. He shouted.

"Every man on the walls!! Autzberg raptor riders!!"

>>47836562
As far as artillery went, the Great cannon was a relatively benign weapon. The forges at nuln churned out these weapons like the bretonnians churned out peasants. Firing a cannon ball greater than a giant's knucklebone, it was the core of campaigns. Cannons won battles.

Cannons also misfired and killed or maimed several crew members and the men assigned to guard them. Catcalls between crewmen and soldiers around them was common on battlefields. Kolt muttered a prayer to the Verena that the cannons not misfire.

And just as suddenly the cannons roared into life. Kolt heard the gunnery sergeant yell out something and the cannons make their report. The boom and the whistle of the cannons flying overhead made him duck, and he wasn't the only one. Some of his men dropped their handguns and pikes as they covered their ears.

"You there, pick up that pike, or you get no bonuses." As the man scrambled to pick up his pike, Kolt looked at the impact the cannons had made on the lines of the chaos warriors.

The sergeant had directed the initial volley at the chaos trolls and spawns at the center of the army, leaving the dragon ogres deployed directly opposite to his position. They were too far to see what damage the cannons had wrought on them, and if ulric willed, they wouldn't have to see it ever again.

Right then he saw the horde of dragon ogres slowly but steadily start advancing. The marauders that were with them were either trampled underfoot or stayed away from the rampaging beasts.

The battle of Quenelles was about to begin.

>>47843163
"You must be careful in the jungle Merrian! It's not safe to collect scrap there!", Merrian rolled her eyes, "Don't worry Grandfather, I'm the best scavenger you employ! I'l be back by Nightfall don't you worry!", with that she sprinted down the road, her thick black cloak billowing behind her over the dull green tunic and thick shorts she wore. Her boots pounded against the old cracked road, worn from untold centuries of disrepair like almost everything else on the planet.

It wasn't long before the road passed by the ancient jungle, a mess of great trees and seemingly imbreachable foliage keeping most out, but Merrian knew a way in.

>>47845791
.cont

Merrian climbed through the ancient hole she always did. The bundle of trees was broken and snapped aside like mere twigs. The great hole was the size of one of the ancient sky ships, or at least one of the small ones. She had always hoped to come across what made it, but had never been so lucky before as to find it... if it even was a sky ship.

Her grandfather use to say an ancient group of demigods once fought in the skies above, but Merrian never believed him, he was a crazy old man after all. And who didn't tell their grandchildren fanciful stories? She shook her head to refocus and was about to climb down into the jungle again, but she slipped and hardly caught herself, looking down at the floor below she sighed in relief. The fall was far and she had seen men die from less. As she looked up to pull herself back up, worried that was a bad omen... something caught her eye. High above her, was another hole deeper in the jungle... as if what had crashhed the first hole had gone up rather than down.

She climbed up to it, and saw a strange sequence of similar holes leading deeper into the jungle. Though it was dangerous, she jumped along the vines and holes deep into the jungle, as it became clear to her no ordinary skyship had crashed through these trees. After what seemed like hours beneath the thick dark canopy she found it... by the Gods did she find it. The Skyship was huge! It was bigger than any of the wrecks she had seen thus far. Its thick body held up by wide wings which carried the ancient scorch of fire, the colors had faded with the surely untold years it must have sat here. It looked like it may have once been a bright and proud yellow color, now obsured by age and vines. She dropped down into the clearing in which the ship sat, have submerged in a crater if its own making. She approached it cautiously, almost afraid to be near the massive metal ship. She saw, beneath a myriad of vines something different.

>>47835533
The market had the smell of magic to it, nature burning mixed with oil and human blood.

Meta let smoke drift out of her nostrils up into the sky. She watched it go until it dispated in the fog of the market and absentmindedly wiped the counter in front of her for the lack of anything better to do. The open sign above her, blinked consistently, occasionally a bit of magic emerging to give it some flourish before toning down again.

She looked one way for customers, then the other before drumming her fingers on the hardtop. She let another puff a smoke, trying to angle it to slap a potential customer walking the higher levels in the face and cursed when a sprite blew it away.

Her store was a small cave carved out of the lower levels. It consisted of a counter, a few things she had stolen from the bigger stores that she spread out over the counter and a storeroom in the back that had her bed. She paid no rent, it was too shit a location for that, and that was balanced out by the fact that rarely if ever did anyone venture that far down beyond nicer looking stores.

She leaned over the counter again and looked up, feeling with her magic. If the sprites were going to be bastards and not let her make a living she could always go a bit more forceful. She could feel purses on belts. Blades on feets. A little tug here a nudge nudge nudge there and people would come down to get them back and hopefully talk to the pretty girl standing behind the counter.

She found a good target. They had little to no magic on their clothing and no chain between their clothes and purses. She started to tug and a voice intterupted her just as she was about to yank it off. "What are you doing?"

Meta jerked. Above someone squealed as a bag of coins buried itself into their hips and she turned to look at the source of the noise.

>>47846549
It was a girl of about fifteen or sixteen wearing a black dress and a apperentices hat.She danced on her heels her shadow moving out of sych with her and she was looking up, following the thread of Meta's magic and looked down back at her."What were you doing?"

"Nothing."

"But you had magic going up there."The girl said. She pointed up. "I can still see the line."

Meta sucked the line back in and shrugged her shoulders. "Really?"

"But I did see something."The girl muttered. She moved to peer over the edge.

Was she trying to give herselve a barganing chip,bringing up Meta's attempted advertising? She was just being petty if she was because nothing meta had was worth that much money but the only other possibility was that she was stupid.

While Meta had been thinking, the girl had moved closer to a glowing feeder she kept above the store to fend off bugs. She reached for it and when the teeth slid in place to bite she jumped back screaming.

Stupid then. "Careful. You could lose a finger."

"Really?"

"No."Another voice spoke up. "It kills bugs. If the enchanter is not utterly incompetent you shouldn't have a thing to worry about."

Meta jumped a little and masking it with sneeze looked for the source of the new voice. She came face to chest with a very large man standing behind the girl.

"Then again."The man said,"there's the if the enchanter is competent provision."

Meta opened her mouth, and looked down the street pathways for where the man could have emerged. "Where did you come from?"

"I was always here." He said.

Meta looked at him, trying to guage the space he took up and found that unlikely.

"That's Finn."The girl spoke up.

"Finn?" Meta said.

The girl was looking at another flower, a safer one Meta had left on the counter." Yeah Finn. He has that effect on everyone."

>>47846576
The man now known as Finn took a step forward and Meta got her first real look at him. He had no magic, the spark simply not there and a pretty face, much too pretty for the body it was on top of. The shoulders, his stance, even his eyes said cage fighter, not pretty boy. Whoever had done it to him had done it when he was young, not expecting their son to grow as large as he would.

"He's your human then?"Meta said. She looked at Finn's face carefully waiting for a reaction.

"No. He's my mothers."

If Finn cared he didn't let himself show it. He looked angrier but it seemed less because his place in life was being acknolwedged and more because of Meta's probing.
"He takes care of you?" Meta said.

She smiled and nodded her head excitingly.

"Is he good at it?" Meta said.

That drew a reaction out of him. His fingers flexed and he almost dropped the papers he was carrying. His face didn't change but Meta saw the slightest hint of teeth as his lips parted then closed shut again. If he had his normal face this game would have been easier to play but without it Meta could only wonder how close he was to jumping over the counter to hit her.

"He's-"The girl said.

"Adequate." Finn finished for her. "And the missus is here to purchase something she saw on your counter."

"She is?"

"Yes."

"Well,"Meta said leaning towards the girl."what would that be darling?"

The girl for her part looked at the two of them and finallly seemed to feel the hostility that had been slowly growing."I don't know."

"Go ahead Nell," Finn said. "Buy what you want."

Nell grabbed a figure and placed it in the center of the counter. She took out a small purse and counted a few coins out before handing them over.

"I hope you come again."Meta said. She pointed her finger at Finn's face. "Especilly you cutie."

Nell grabbed the figure stiffly and walked away. Finn looked at Meta again, his eyes running up and down her body before he left following her.


.

>>47846586
Meta watched them go and wondered why she had done that. She would have been polite to the girl, as annoyingly naive she was. Probably would have sold her more than just the figure alone.

It was the human, Meta guessed. She never liked humans. They were slaves and but at least the onews who were unhappy about it weren't as pathetic as the ones who were.

Meta flipped the coin the girl had given her and caught it. She probably would have sold her more than the figure if Finn wasn't there. Meta would have made more than six dollars if she hadn't gotten into that pissing match with Finn.

She bit back a scream and began to kick the weight she kept under the counter for such occasions. She counted to ten in her head, breathed deeply and let smoke drift out of her nose up into the marketplace, watching it go until it dissapeared in the fog.

>>47834404
Czechfag here - I'm tackling it, but I'm not much of a comedy writer. I'll see what I can do and post it once it's finished.

>>47823986
no problem. People seemed interested and the entire point of these threads is to encourage people to write. And I'd like nothing better than for some of the writers here to turn themselves into published authors

incidentally, I notice here
>>47753401
that you said you that The Old Way received a lot of praise. Since I wrote it I'm quite curious to know why. I've always liked it but I never thought anyone else would.

Do you accept pdf dumps of fanfiction or general writefaggotry?

>>47859631
sure

File: OrdoSepulturumTheMagosofMutare (1).pdf (1 B, 486x500) Image search: [Google]

1 B, 486x500

Woo!

I'm writing these little 8k - 10k word pulp-style 40k adventures, centering around an Inquisitor named Mather Callidon. Mather isn't your usual Ordo Xenos "a single Eldar? Exterminatus." style Inquisitor though - no, he's a member of the Ordo Sepulturum, which I have framed as a severely underfunded interplanetary CDC. In my notes for myself I've described the series as:
>"Adventure stories of an inquisitor of the ordo sepulturum, who investigates the outbreak of possibly warp-related diseases within the Imperium. A mixture of gothic badassery and CDC-procedural"

My last real involvement with the Lore of 40k was Dark Heresy first edition, so a lot of this is probably out of date, but if the above appeals to you read on!

>>47860027
Are there litmags that accept stories near the 10k mark? I thought most cut off at like 8k

>>47860079
I have no idea. There certainly aren't any litmags who would accept 40k fanfic (lest GW let their lawyers off the leash). This is just for me for fun. Gotta get those million shit words out of the way and all that, maybe have a laugh while doing it.

File: 233252.jpg (219 KB, 568x930) Image search: [Google]

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I've had an idea for a story for a while so I'd thought I'd toss it up here.

“You can run no longer Human, this mighty host heralds the end, of you and all the rest of your kind.” The Avlan spoke, malice thick in his voice. His taloned feet dug into the Human’s chest, biting through the boiled leather and slipping passed the gaps in the coat of plates till blood welled up and pooled around his sharpened talons. “This stronghold will fall, and with it, your wretched race. It will be a penance for your sins, and one more fair than any of you deserve.”

The Avlan was armoured in thin plate and mail, the sheets of metal covering his chest and extremities while the chainmail made up the joints. The armour held little in the way of ornamentation or extravagance, favoring function over form, save for the mark of his faith etched into his breastplate. It depicted what they called the ‘Coronation of the Five’, one of his own avian like race kneeling, five swords run through his back.

Human swords, if the legends were true.

He wore no helm, as status befitted one of his rank and to show his faith in their undying lord, trusting him to protect him. His angular face was covered in brown downy feathers, dyed red above his jet black eyes. His left held tightly closed, a large gash marring his face and running down and across the eye. He had no shield, but held a small pointed dagger in his left hand and a simple longsword in his right, dripping with the blood of the human under his foot.

“We... will not fall, Avlan. No matter... no matter how many of you crash against our gates, how many score your fell in the field, how long you put us to siege. We will not fall.” The human spat in defiance through blooded teeth. “We have stood against more than you could ever muster, defeated the likes of which you could not fathom. We will not break... we will not fall.”

>>47860611
The human was young, bailey a man grown. His was a simple face, framed in long auburn hair matted now with blood. He wore much and less compared to the Avlan, little more than a coat of plates over a simple boiled leather hauberk. His shield, and the arm that held it, were a ruin of shattered wood and torn bloodstained clothing. His shortsword lost to him.

“All you and yours have done is run Human, from Ashmark to Demeter, from Alixandra to Riverrun. All you’ve done is run, now you’ve run yourselfs into a corner. What did you intend, I wonder? Some final stand, some last great battle that would be remembered for all the days to come? Well Human, know this, yours will be forgotten. No one will write of your deeds, of your city’s nor your king's.” The Avlan spoke his claws digging in deeper, hate pouring from him, drawing a grunt of pain from the man. “Or was it fear that drove you, I wonder. Fear of what you’ve done, and of the retribution to come? Is this the reason of this craven's last stand, these final gasping breaths? Well you will know fear, Human, that I swear make no mistake. The gods will know vengance, there will be retribution.”

The Avlan leaned in close, kneeling down on his chest. “I will know revenge.”

He put the point of his dagger at the human’s throat.
The Human showed no fear, no emotion marked his face, not but a mocking smile. “The gods are dead priest, dead. We laid them low and built a civilization on their corpse. They were the one’s who fled our swords, they were the cravens. Do what you will, but we will know no fear. We killed the gods themselves, what would we have to fear from the likes of you when gods could not withstand us?”

>>47860643
The Avlan growled, “You will know fear Human.” He pushed the dagger down through his throat. “You will know death.”

As he did he heard the sound of metal against metal, and felt something push against his chest.

He looked down and saw the human holding something to his breastplate, some small metal tube attached to a wooden grip held firmly in the Human’s hand. He looked back into the face of them Human, the mocking grin still plastered on his face, blood pouring from his clenched teeth.

There was the sound of thunder that sent his ears ringing. It felt as though a war horse had kicked him in the chest, the force sitting him up and sending him reeling unto his back. He let out a strangled cough, more blood than air coming forth. He down across his body and saw the human lying dead, he saw the hole in his own breastplate. He let out another ragged cough and looked to the clear dawn sky, his death creeping at the edges of his darkening vision.

The last he heard of this world as he looked into the clear sky was the sound of rolling thunder... and screaming.

>>47860662
The way I've thought of it was like a post-apocalypse fantasy setting. where humanity killed what were basically the 40K chaos gods that ruled over the world and caused an apocalypse when what they had power over stopped, day/night cycle, no more magic, shit like that. The point would be that a group would go on a quest to save the world, generic shit i know but I just wanna write it, don't really know how to start it off though.

>>47860837
If you don't know how to start at the start then start in the middle and go back later. By the time you get to the end, you might find that the middle is perfectly serviceable as a start.

Also just a note: watch out for redundancy in your writing. Nothing drags your writing down faster. I have the same issue and I'm always on the lookout for it. Example:
>His taloned feet dug into the Human’s chest, biting through the boiled leather and slipping passed the gaps in the coat of plates till blood welled up and pooled around his sharpened talons.
You mention talons twice - the second time we already know he has talons, so there's no need to say so again. Also, if they're biting through armour, we know they're sharp without needing to be told that they're sharp. Cut that down and your writing will be leaner, meaner and have more impact.

>>47860027
Okay, well:
>The Good
>>Fast-paced, punchy, not too many spelling or grammar errors
>>Protagonist is interesting, complex, very human, not the kind of character you normally see in 40k (especially Inquisitor)
>>Great in-universe attention to detail: Callidon not being able to converse with locals in their native language.
>>You've developed an interesting take on the Inquisition, less the Spanish Inquisition route which 40k normally takes, more modern day Roman Catholic Inquisition. I don't know if this is fluffy, but I like it better.

>The Bad
>>Plot isn't very tight. Feels like you introduced elements that didn't go anywhere or weren't adequately explained. Why did the Sister have warp taint? Why *wasn't* that related to the disease?
>>You tend to rely pretty heavily on adverbs. Perhaps this is personal preference, but the best number of adverbs to have in your writing is none.
>>I didn't understand the motivation of the bad guy at all. Is he the 'Magos of Mutare?' Was the disease a front for illegal techpriest experiments?
>>I don't think Sororita's do things like running small hospitals? Actually, while the Inquisitor was a good human character, I think you made the Sister too human.

Overall 6.5/10 would read another 'Mather Callidon Adventure...'

>>47863148
>I don't think Sororita's do things like running small hospitals?
I'd presume that the sister's probably a Hospitalier or at least attached to a Hospitalier order. Granted, there's not much explaining it besides the hospital, but it's the most logical answer.

Still enjoyed it nevertheless. Would like to see where this heads off.

After quite some time away from it, I've rewritten a big chunk of a piece I was working on because some characters were acting funny

http://pastebin.com/mc9rcDP6

comments and criticism appreciated

File: 1465056470385.png (572 KB, 410x472) Image search: [Google]

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Preferably with a guardsman 40k take

>>47839243
It started quite well for Kolt and his rag tag gang. The forces of chaos had been thrown into disarray by the charge of their monstrosities. Norscans were taller and stronger than average than the regular empire soldier or the bretonnian peasant. However, they were largely clad in furs and using axes. A good weapon for reaving, but a terrible one for battle where the pikes and halberds of the empire soldiers would keep them at bay and slaughter them.

The chosen of chaos were the threat that the poor lads in the center had to face. They were mortal men once, but pacts with the dark gods of chaos had granted them 'gifts' that made them faster, stronger and deadlier than what they once were. Luckily being clever was not one among them as Kolt could see small packs of them breaking free and trying to charge at the combined army of bretonnia and the empire.

Powerful warriors they might be, but the chosen were no match for superior firepower. Scattered bands of chaos warriors closed the distance with surprising speed that belied the heavy armor they wore. The arrows from the bretonnian peasants did little against them, but here the handgunners fared much better.

Volleys of lead ripped through the lines of chaos chosen, piercing armor, flesh and mutation with equal fury. A few of the bigger brutes pushed onwards and were met by other volleys.

The dragon ogres mean while were running amok. The monsters had started making a beeline towards his position at an alarming pace. However the cries of his men had alerted the gunnery sergeant who had ordered his battery to fire on the big brutes.

Ancient and twisted hellspawn they might be, their scarred flesh was no match for the cannonade unleashed by the batteries of the empire. Kolt wondered when these things would be turned upon the bretonnians.

Relations between the two nations were not especially good, and it was the threat of chaos that had kept the two nations working together.

>>47821911
The absolute memery of this hurts me.

>>47855414
I'm curious if that ever happened. Has someone from /tg/ ever become a published author? I've been kicking around ideas for a story and writing short passages of it in my head, just gaven't been motivated enough to actually sit down and type it up. It's half based on a character I played before in an awful game. I told some of the story of that game before and have it screencapped but I feel like it'd be inappropriate to post it since it's not telling a story so much as telling a game.

>tfw when your work was so unremarkable that nobody had any feedback at all
time to start again

>>47821366
Crissy fell onto the snow, blood pouring from her mouth. Her body felt like crap, and the sword pointed at her neck didn't make her feel any better.

"You still sure that you can't pay up?," asked Rolf. His crusty breath fouled up the air, and he slowly pressed down on the spot where his sharp blade touched Crissy's neck.

"For the lst time, you've got the wrong gal." Crissy closed her eyes, and tapped her staff against the snow. One, two, three taps.

"Uh, boss?" called out one of Rolf's soldiers. "Something's up!"

Rolf would have responded, if it hadn't been for the sudden explosion of snow that hit his face. A twister of ice and dirt and air sprouted from the mountain, and slammed into Rolf and his men, washing them far away.

Crissy brushed herself off, and grabbed her bag. It was time for her to leave.

"Darren, you owe me one", she said, as she wandered off.

>>47877580
What did you write?

>>47848869
The din of the market was quieter here, blocked by the houses, tenements and company headquarters that rose about the laneway. It led deep into the smaller streets with a gentle curve, and rose unevenly in some places. Draperies blocked out the midday sun and merchants were set up underneath archways and inside small alcoves. Some stood and drew customers in with aggressive but light-hearted calls, some were seated quietly on stone steps or wooden stools, smoking or sipping water. Cloaked figures inspected steaming bowls or sampled corked vials, rows of blades were set out on sheets of oiled leather between a merchant and potential customer who discussed the finer details of the weaponry, carpets and linens were piled against walls with other building materials. The scent of spices wafted in from the main market with the richly red-cloaked guards who sometimes wandered through slowly, each one nodding to a few different merchants each time.

>>47845362
The first thing you need to know is that Panem is goddamn fabulous.

The second thing you need to know is that he knows it, and will tell everyone else about it.

Seriously, Panem, whenever he's in a bard competition, will sing about just how good his horns look, just how SEXY his legs are, and just how well he sings. The only reason he ever gets away with it is because he really is so good at singing. When he sings, the rainm will stop to listen, the girls (and a few guys) will swoon, and the world's roation quickens up a bit.

His haters will tell you he's overrated. Panem would say that they were just jealous, and keep on rocking his tunes.

So, if you hear some smooth guitar sounds, and you feel yourself movin' but you don't know why, that means Panem's in town.As he would say "Sit back, and enjoy!"

>>47878168
>>47868155

>>47879273
What, do seriously you expect me to read all that? I got to have time for my Doctor Who audios!

Just joking. I liked it. I had no idea what the different races were, but I got a sense of them from your character. The reveal mid-way through was done pretty well, and your character was engaging, although you do realize that your character has done a pretty unlikable thing within the first four pages? I don't necessarily care about that, but some people do.

One thing I might criticize is the "what is he aiming at" sequence. I figured out what was going on a few seconds before Vin did, so perhaps you could make the "he's shooting at me SHIT SHIT SHIT" reaction go a few sentences earlier.

But that's all. I liked it!

>>47879273
>>47879627
Also, I ship Vin/Austine. (joking).

Does anyone have any stories or book recommendations where the MC is involved with a benevolent illuminati-type organization? Looking for conflict and plot ideas; worldbuilding doesn't work in settings of modern Earth.

>>47847320
When you've lost all your hope, when you've found nothing to live for, that is when you see them. They look like two young children, one with green pigtails, and one with brown hair. Their eyes look empty, and their hands are always intertwined. People who have met them call them the Twins.

Not everyone who sees the Twins will approach them. Not everyone who approachs them will get an answer.

But, if the Twins find you worthy, they will beckon you close, and whisper omething into your ear. Once you hear them, you will not remember what they say. Most don't even remember that they met them.

But, once you hear them, three months from that date, you will disappear. No one will know what, or why. Only one person lived past three months.

Unfortunately, she cannot tell us what was said. For she is deaf.

>>47879273
desu I don't read pastebin as a rule.

>>47879627
thanks

I can clean up that part. I might redo some other parts too

>>47877395
You can bet someone becoming a published author is not going to broadcast their long association with the terrorist pedophile bullying imageboard 4chan. Tumblr would toilet their career before it even got going.

>>47879994
Just do what I did and copy and paste from the pastebin into a text program.

>>47880029
When I have to start going out of my way and taking steps to read something then your writing has become too inaccessible.

>>47880019
What other parts are you going to redo?

>>47837756
Autzbergers? Here? Kars did could not believe what Karl said. He served no army nor did he keep news about the war close to his ears, but he knew that the Autzbergers never marched against his people from the south. Weak as the Goths were, their aging Emperor knew how to gather great war hosts and rally them into religious fervor, enough to cow even the drilled perfection that were the Cohorts of Autzberg. Kars voiced his opinions as much. Karl did not care.

"Shows what you know, you country fuck," The raider chief hissed. "I know when I see Autzberger riders. I can see their black uniforms from... Wait... They're not..."

The riders were now close enough to discern basic details if a man were to squint, and see that the riders were not soldiers of the age old enemy. The uniforms they bore were dark indeed, but not black like the tabard of an Autzberger soldier, but billowing cloaks of a dark shade of blue. Their shields did not display a heraldry of any kind, though that brought relief to some. The Queen of Autzberg had her soldiers wave flags of a sanguine dragon set against a pitch black backdrop, to see that on the other side of the battlefield guaranteed only a long bloody slog. Or a swift and total massacre. The beasts they rode were not the iconic dagger mouthed hunters of Autzberg's namesake mountain, but giant birds, running with a gait that Kars would have thought comical if not for the tension.

All but one of the riders halted their birds just outside of quarrel range, the one still riding waving a white flag as they approached the gate. Karl barked an order in native Ironborn, and Kars and all the others trained their missiles at the lone rider, anxious to know if the order to fire would come. It did not come, at least not yet,

"Who dares parley with Karl the Bear and his warband?!" Karl shouted down at the rider, putting on his best "tough guy" face. His legs quivered, frightened like the rest.

>5/Hell if I know

>>47880207
I am thinking about add some more stuff to the beginning bits and possibly change what information Vin gives to the Lieutenant

>>47880024
This is a good point. And if they said anything on /tg/ everyone would say bullshit. How depressing.

>>47854816
Officer Justine stared at the Obliviator. This was a state of the art tank with hyper-vaporizer cannons and enough armor to outlast a nuclear blast.

And it now had cartoon eyes on it. And make-up.

"Fuckin' "take your kids to work" day," she said.

>>47881823
The girl closed her eyes, holding the teddy bear close to her. It had been a simple mind-control spell, but it was enough to tire her out. But it was worth it.

Now her uncle would never leave her. He would read her bed-time stories, forever.

>>47881886
>The girl closed her eyes, holding the teddy bear close to her. It had been a simple mind-control spell, but it was enough to tire her out. But it was worth it.
>Because maybe now Grandpa would remember who she was and she could be his princess again.

>>47882486
I think you just made my story sad.

>>47882629
It was creepy, now it's sad.

>>47881886
>>47882486
>The girl closed her eyes, holding the teddy bear close to her. It had been a simple mind-control spell, but it was enough to tire her out. But it was worth it.
>Now she had her own friend to play with Grandpa's tiger friend Hobbes.

>CYOA makes me want to write
>know that if I give in, it will turn into a meaningless 300-page sprawl that I can't stop and won't show to anyone

Should I? I haven't written in so long.

>>47883377
Yes, you should. And then show people. Do it, anon.

>>47820601
A setting idea for a TV show sprung half grown from my brow not a few minutes ago. Who wants to see?

>>47884388
I'll just post in a separate thread.

>>47887824
The men of Aratha marched up the hill. Snow rattled through the mountains, hitting their faces like small arrows. Freezing air penetrated their clothes, causing them to shiver.

Old Jake tried to yell out something to the Captain, but no one could hear him over the blizzard whipping around them. And so he marched, as they all did.

>>47888919
When Sir Thomas got lost in the African jungle, everyone considered him dead.

So it was a surprise when we found him quite alive, and fighting beasts.

"Oh, hello!" he said cheerfully to us, while he punched a gorilla in the face. Another of the creatures jumped at him, and he dodged to the left, and landed a kick to the sternum of the creature. "You've just found me during my morning exercise."

>>47824117
This is a very /tg/ post.

Seriously, I hope it works out for you, anon.

>>47824117
let me know if you want it taken off the wiki

>>47894251
Hey, should I adopt a trip for this thread?

>>47894275

It's your prerogative, but a name is usually enough. If only so people can recognize you as a regular contributor.

People here are pretty good about not stealing credit.

>>47894275
I mostly only use my trip when I'm discussing - well, for for want of a better term let's call it 'official business'. Mostly when I'm just posting a story I've written I don't use a trip.

as this guy >>47894330 says, a name is usually enough. In fact, it's actually convenient for me because it allows me to keep track of what post belongs with which story more efficiently.

(It also helps a lot if people name their stories)

>>47894631
> (It also helps a lot if people name their stories)

Okay. Thanks for responding.

>>47878142
The Staffwoman

>>47879079
Panem the Fabulous

>>47879964
The Twins from Nowhere

>>47881886
The Spell

>>47891955
Blizzard

File: 1428631962212.jpg (111 KB, 350x900) Image search: [Google]

111 KB, 350x900

>>47894883
thanks

>>47895175
"Hey buddy!" The skeleton's whisper is hoarse, but the excitement is clear. "Check out this asshole! He still has the flesh on him and not even a single tentacle!" You motion for him to duck under the water so the adventurer doesn't hear.

You ask, "Why do these adventurers keep coming here?" The skeleton replies in a joyous gargle: "I haven't the foggiest but I LOVE it! This one has a torch too! The look on his face is going to be priceless when it goes out."

Another tentacled skeleton calls out to you. "Stop faffing about you two. He is almost here! We're gonna spook him good!"

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Decided to do a sequel to "Mixed Party". Be sure to read the original here first.
_______________________________________________________________

Jack Mason trudged up the road. It was a bright day. His visor HUD filtered out the glare. When he made his way back to Oscar’s van, Wren was there. The rear doors were open, and she sat on the edge. She liked the sun. She perked up like she always did when she saw him.

“Hey you,” Wren said. She smiled, and stood up

“Uh, hey,” Jack said. His voice crackled though the helmet. “I uh, I found those flowers I know you like.” He held out a bunch of those yellow flowers. They looked funny in his gauntleted hand.

Wren reached out and took them. She sniffed the flowers, and her long ears wiggled. Jack looked down. “Thanks, Jack,” she said.

“No problem,” Jack said. He shrugged. He remembered her talking about those flowers. Apparently they were rare where she came from. She stood there smiling at him, wordlessly. Jack had trouble meeting her eyes. He’d been to war. He had a kill count in the hundreds. This shouldn’t be hard.

“So, uh, you wanna go for that walk now?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said. She stepped toward him, and the two started walking up the hill, into the trees.

They walked in silence. It’d been three days since the mall. Wren still smiled contentedly. Like it didn’t even happen. Finally he spoke up.

“Wren, about the other day…”

“Shhh,” she said. “Not right now.” She still smiled. “Just walk with me. I wanna see this spot you told me about.”

That made Jack feel good. Wren told him once most Elves were kinda mopey. But she still seemed cheery. Even after everything that went down. They found the trail, and it took them into a clearing.

>>47895389
“Uh, right,” he said. He sat down on the stump. She joined him. “I’m glad you like it.” They sat in silence. Felt like forever.

Finally she spoke up. “So yes, about the mall,” she said. Her smile stayed. “It was…quite intense wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it was rough,” he said. “I’ve been in some mean shi—uh, turf. But that really took the cake.”

“I guess it did,” she said. “When Austin went down, I thought it was over. But you saved it. Saved me. Like always.” She beamed up at him. It felt really hot under his helmet.

“Did I?” he asked. “I just, I’ve lost people before, Wren. But this was really hard.” Jack Mason had buried too many friends.

“So can you do it for me now?” she asked abruptly. She put a hand on his knee.

“Uh, do what?” he asked.

“You know what,” she teased.

Jack sighed. He did. He reached up and pressed on his helmet’s seal fasteners. They hissed, and he pulled it off. He squinted in the sunlight. She grinned at him. Jack saw his face in her eyes.

“So that’s what you look like,” she said.

“Yup.”

“Now there’s one more thing I want,” she said. Her smile was gone.

“What?” he asked.

“I want you to remember,” she said. “Remember that what happened wasn’t your fault. You did nothing wrong, Jack.”

“You’re being a little melodramatic today, aren’t you Wren?” he tried to grin.

“Elves are like that, Jack,” she said. “Please?”

“Okay,” he breathed. “Okay. I’ll remember that.”

>>47895401
“Thanks,” she said. She squeezed his hand and closed her eyes. Jack looked back out at the clearing. He closed his eyes too.

“You doin’ alright, Jack?” a voiced broke him out of the moment. He felt a little annoyed. He opened his eyes. Austin stood there. His hat was off.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Behind Austin, Oscar walked up carrying a sword and a bow. Jack turned back around, towards Wren. She sat there by the flowers. The jar was pretty in the sunlight. It came from her world. Jack sighed. Oscar walked up and gently set Wren’s weapons down by her on the stump.

The three men stood there. They both put a hand on his shoulder. He clenched his helmet. After awhile he looked up at the sky.

It was a beautiful day.

>>47880231
The more I read my work, the more I realize how much I need to edit myself before clicking the post prompt. All my grammar errors make my eyes twitch in anger.

Eh, oh well. Might as well keep going. Gonna continue writing once my daily routine is done with, maybe give it a title too.

>>47895685
People tell me I am a hack for using this, but I find this tool really nice for editing quickly

http://www.hemingwayapp.com/

>>47895722
Huh. That's actually pretty nifty.

Kudos, anon.

>>47895844
I like that the tool highlights the use of passive voice.

>>47895956
What's it mean by passive voice?

>>47896714
Passive voice is generally the usage of "X was Ying..." when a more active and engaging voice would go more like "X Yed..."

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

>>47896714
"I bought some food from the store."

vs

"Some food was bought from the store by me."

>>47896758
>>47896769

Nifty.

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Bumping to save thread from the archive

>>47904544
Bump

>>47822321
Day 1
My party of mercenaries travel along the coast. Suddenly from the shadows you hear a drunken scream. "I will drink from your skull!" one of the scruffy looking men declares, while a shirtless man declares "You better not be a maaaanhunter!". But to his dismay, i indeed was a manhunter. So were my mercenaries. We charge upon our mules to take these criminal rats head on, capture them and sell for profit. Their prisoners shall join our ranks on our duty of justice.

Day 1,5
We were captured by the bandits. Who knew that going against an army of 500+ rugged criminals would be a bad idea when we have 30 or so mounted men. At least i have butter.

>>47904544
When Trevor had signed up for the Lovecraftian orgy, he thought it would consist of nerds who read too much. He was in for quite a shock when he walked into a room full of all sorts of lusty horrors.

But then there was this woman, who seemed normal enough. Her blonde hair flowed just below her shoulders, complementing her smooth back.

"Man that girls got back!" Trevor thought to himself. She did have a back, as most human women do. Many of the other women in the room did not. Trevor had a hard time with the invertebrates. The lack of a spine made sex awkward, and it wasn't his preference.

Trevor wondered for a moment before making his move. He summoned his courage and reached out to her to get her attention.

Glowing holes covered her front side, and small claws prodtruded from her collarbone. Most striking of all, was her face. It was just a giant maw of glowing teeth.

Trevor was expecting something, but not this. The woman then placed her hand on Trevor's shoulder and moved in closer. Her collar claws rested on Trevor's collarbone, and found himself face to face with her. Well, face to maw.

At this point Trevor expected tentacles to come out of the holes in her body. Perhaps the claws resting on his collarbones would begin tearing away at him. Or worse yet: she might try to kiss him with that mouth.

The woman had moved her hands lower, onto Trevor's hips. Pleased with Trevor, she let go of him, turned, and bent over, revealing her posterior to him once again.

Trevor felt both relieved and ready for what came ahead.

Years later they would marry and have literally 2.4 children.

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>>47883377
I'm this guy, and so it begins. Here's a nice, relatively self-contained section from a day in my guy's life before he got his ship.

Stardate-1804X-23-11Y-7:23

Sector Luos. System Erebus, Section Asteroid Belt.

“I swear, three hundred folk on this ship, six bartenders in rotation, and you're always the one on duty when I need a drink, Fiske.” The man in front of me sets down his glass, cradling his balding head. The years of combat have gotten to him, wrinkling his face and giving his hand a slight shake, but his eyes still hold that fierce glint which keeps him going.

“Sorry, Commandant Neumann,” I reply, pouring him another shot. “But, funny thing. With these new combat hours, Logistics switched around my hours completely. So...”

“So then, you must be trailing me, like some Syndicate spy.” Neumann sets down his glass, and gives me a hard glare. I grin.

“Absolutely.” A moment passes, and then he chuckles, and wipe down the counter. He picks up his glass, shaking it pensively. “You know, you remind me of your father. Great man. Served the Federation well. A decade of hard work and ingenuity that I haven't seen anyone come close to. Your father...he was a good friend.” Neumann frowns for a moment, and I interject.

“He thought the same of you, sir. It's half the reason I signed up to work with the Leeds.”

“Aye, and I'm darn glad to have you. But I would give anything to have your father back. But after Levante...” Neumann trails off, and I pause my duties to walk around the counter. After pouring another shot, and patting him on the back, I talk, attempting to fill the awkward air.

“Trust me, there's nothing he enjoyed better than a good fight.”

“But still...it was my fault.”

>>47908435
“Look, after getting that cybernetic liver for a replacement, he's enjoying the hell out of retirement, believe me. With that officer's pension, him and my mother have been enjoying the sandy beaches and balmy oceans of Moa without me to take care of.” I pull up my holophone, and scroll through some pictures. “They still update me regularly. Look, he just won a boating race over there-”

Neumann pushes the phone away, and I let him. After a bit of silence, I pop up again. “You know, he still thinks it's his fault. If he hadn't tried to get her, none of this would have happened.”

“He's goddamn right. But I was under pressure, Fiske! Do you know how much was riding on it?”

“2000 credits and the squad's drinks for the night. He's told me, yeah.”

“And then your father decides, 'ooh, let me impress this chick by trying to catch a dart mid-air.' I know that damn thing was going to hit the bullseye, but instead, it gets him right in the bicep and he's groping at the air like a dumb monkey. Then, the crowd jeers, someone jostles me, and next thing you know, chairs are being broken and fists are flying. And then, a gunshot. One of the civs had pulled a machine pistol on us, and the waitress, clutching her leg. Of course, your father, so drunk and so full of liquid courage, decides to storm the guy, catching three rounds in the gut for all his efforts.”

>>47908449
“But he stopped the guy. Turned out he was a criminal, too.”

“A minor one! But it saved his ass. All of our asses. Instead of disturbing the populace with disorderly conduct, we were heroically saving civilians from an attempted shooting. Press turned it into a nice puff piece about the Federation, and your father got his veteran's comp and a nice donation from the public at large. After that, he got offered early retirement, and snatched it up. Never looked back.” He tears up slightly, and I let him have his time, waiting for my moment to chip in.

“You know, he's still waiting for you.”

Neumann smiles slightly through his watery eyes. “Yeah, but he wants me to retire first.”

I grin. “Yeah, he says that a lot to you. Thinking of giving up the bars yet?” Neumann pauses, and I see those eyes soften, consider dropping the fight and enjoying the calm of retirement, catching up with his best friend. Then, the 8'o’clock klaxons sounds, and Neumann hardens once more, the glint returning to his eyes.

“Not while the Federation still has fights to win. Come on, Fiske, we've got work to do.”

[3/3, End of Story]

>>47895410
Last One Out
She glanced down at the pinging alarm, and froze.
The thing was here. She'd run out of time.

She froze, out of fear, and also experience. The thing would only pounce when it's prey moved.
Was it psyching her out? Toying with her? Who knew.

She had one last thread of hope.
She was the only one who knew how to undo the sabotage to the engines because she'd been the one who'd done it.
If she suicided, now, it couldn't grab the knowledge from her brain and learn how to fix it. Not until the missiles arrived.
She clung to that thought, for all it's morbidity. It kept her on this side of panic.
The gauss pistol was tucked in her waistband, chilling the skin underneath. Could she reach it in time?

Oh god, she could see it now, out of the corner of her eye. Blue tentacles covered in crimson, coiling like springs.
She couldn't wait any longer. Her hand dove for the gun.

She almost made it.

Anyone got a prompt they especially want to see?

I got nothin' to do, and haven't written anything in a week, because I'm a lazy piece of shit.

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>>47912885
how about this?

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>>47913280

Can do, gonna try something a bit different than usual, so this may take a while.

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>>47913280
>>47913389

It was mid July when I received that fateful missive. I immediately recognized the return address scrawled on the envelope in an uneven hand. I considered casting it into the fire pit, allowing the licking flames to absolve me of responsibility. If only I had, then maybe... just maybe-- but I get ahead of myself.

The letter was terse and to the point, just over two lines. Two lines and a sign. I read those lines over and over, until I could see them wherever I looked. Those 6 words saying more than I thought possible.

It's true.

We need you.

- Lydia

Below the name was a symbol, composed of three lines, all twisted up upon themselves. Together they formed the crude facsimile of a star. It was a thing that hadn't crossed my mind in years, but as I began to dwell on it, the memories flooded back. Memories of endless summer days, wandering among the caves and forests, hopping between puddles of shade; a frivolous attempt at shielding ourselves from the blistering sun. Everywhere we went, we left our mark, a reminder that we had existed.

The memories became, impossible to ignore. I tried to sweep them away, returning to some semblance of peace, but they clung to my mind like a leech. Until finally, I was left with a dull, aching, realization. I had to go home.

>>47880231
The rider's billowing cloak hid his figure well, hiding any hint of weapons, devices, or trick that the rider could pull. It put Kars on edge, for someone to come parley alone with a band of thirty strong but hungry and desperate criminals is either very faithful in men's honor, or a sorcerer with spell ready to pass his lips. Either was dangerous, but only one would lead to a terrible consequence for Kars and the others.

"I am Alexis Camberly of the Blue Jays free mercenaries!" The rider shouted, his voice high pitch and melodious. Too high to be any man's tone. "I've come to offer you all an opportunity!"

Kars' anxiousness turned to astonishment when the rider pulled back his hood, revealing flaxen hair and the fair skinned face of a girl. Piercing sky blue eyes met with his haggard green eyes briefly, turning away to look to all the other Ironborns before resting her gaze back on Karl.

"Men of the mighty Satropies, hear me! Your nation of nations lies dead, but you all still live! You still bear your strength and your mantle as one of the toughest mountain warriors in all of continent! I come to you now offering a chance to become than mere brigands!"

"And what, become sellswords like you!?" Karl spat back, lips pulled back into angry scowl. He never been much for words, he had been a bandit chief longer than Kars has been alive, preferring fear and violence to keep his men in line. He was not Kars' favorite person.

"Yes, and if you do, you will reap the reward of an adventurer's life!" The girl reached a hand into her cloak, produced a heavy sack the size of a man's head. What she pulled from it made men's jaws drop in awe. Pinched between her fingers was a single gold coin. Gold currency was not unheard of up North, but damned were they rare. And in this girl's fingers was rarest of them all.

An eight sided dollar of the Mamertines' Republic, richest nation in all of Makerdom.

>6/Hell if I know

>>47914054

The land surrounding Tepkoss Point was even uglier than I had remembered. The recession hadn't been kind to the area, and just when they started to recover, the drought kicked them in the teeth. dead and dying plants clung to every scrap of land for as far as the eye could see. They'd once grown corn and wheat, now the fields lay fallow. Every so often I'd pass a group of skinny cows grazing on one of the few remaining patches of grass.

I passed the time by idly fiddling with the controls of the rental car's radio. On one channel I managed to catch snippets of a country-western song, between bursts of deafening static. On another, some preacher claimed to be able to heal the sick, for a small donation. Yet another played a rerun of a high school football game from nineteen eighty-five. I opted to listen to the game, even though I'd heard it at least a hundred times before. I even mouthed along with the announcer as the final play was called. "Garet snaps to McMillan, McMillian with the long drive to Dermitt, but wait! Winston's caught it! Interception by Tepokoss high! And he's going! Going! Aaaand--" A blast of static drowned out the last few minutes. I sighed and turned it off. I'd been fourteen when that game happened, at the time it seemed like the most important thing in the world. Guess to some people it still is.

The sign for Tepkoss point loomed ahead. White paint chipped and peeled, revealing the mass of rotted wood beneath. I pulled into a gas station near the edge of town, and got out. The suffocating heat was the first thing that hit me, in must have been more than a hundred degrees. The second was the smell. Underneath the diesel fumes and car exhaust there was an undercurrent of raw sewage. I sprinted towards the door of the gas station, forgetting to pump the gas.

It was even worse inside. Within that dark, enclosed space, the sewage and heat mixed with cigarette smoke and sweat.

>2/fuck me this is gonna take longer than I thought

>>47915119

There was no air conditioning inside the tiny station, and all the lights were off; the only illumination came from the setting sun. A young woman dressed in an ill-fitting uniform lounged behind the counter. Her name tag read "Hi! My name is Cass." One hand held a cigarette, while the other flipped through a gossip magazine. Unnaturally dark hair clung to her pale skin, and a couple of piercings glistened in the twilight. She looked up at me, and raised an eyebrow. "You okay mister?" I nodded trying not to gag, and wiped a bead of sweat off my brow. She resumed reading the magazine.

I managed to catch my breath. "What's with the smell?"

She shrugged and turned the page. "Dunno, think the septic tank is busted."

"Is someone coming in to fix it?" I asked, not even attempting to hide my incredulity.

Once again, she shrugged. "Probably. It ain't my job."

I walked up and down the dim aisles, pretending to examine packages of ancient twinkies and desiccated hotdogs. Finally, I made my way towards the bathroom. "It's outta order." She said, taking a draw from her cigarette.

I forced myself to smile, approached the counter, and offered her my credit card. "I'll take twenty dollars of gas on pump," I looked out to the car, "four."

She sighed, and put out her cigarette. With a single motion she grabbed my card, and swiped it through the machine. She began to punch in a few numbers, after a few seconds a paused and looked at my card, then to me. "Toby Thorne," she paused, "you wouldn't happen to be Lydia's brother?"

I nodded. "I am."

Cass smiled. "Glad to see you could make it. You really don't want to miss this."

"Miss what?" I asked.

She seemed to be taken aback by the question. "She didn't tell you?"

I shook my head. Her smile grew wider. "Then I won't spoil the surprise." Something about the way she said it sent a chill down my spine.

I pulled back, grabbing my card from her hand. "I'll tell Lydia you said hello." I edged toward the door

>3/?

>>47916487

She watched me the entire time I was filling the car.

I drew closer to the town, while the sun dipped lower in the sky. Faded billboards supporting some political candidate or advertising strip clubs lined the roadside. One of them simply said "where are you going?" Superimposed over a child's picture of hell. Off in the distance, the husk of the Multiplex stood, an ugly reminder of how far the town had fallen.

My car crested the hill on the edge of town, and I could see it for the first time. Tepkoss, with its crumbling roads and steeples, ridgepoles and chimney-pots, willow trees and graveyards; all of them seemed to be straining, struggling, fighting for a last moment in the sun, before breathing their last and falling to the inevitable march of time. The narrow, ramrod-straight streets crisscrossed every inch of the town, rows of identical town homes, their paint peeling and cracked, lined the desolate streets. White picket fences, long since rotted to the core, provided the only lines of demarcation between one desolate and disheveled yard and the next. All of it remained comfortably distant, lent an air of artificiality by the corona of heat. It had been more than a decade since I left this place, and on that day I prayed to every god that would listen, that I'd never return.

I stopped my car at the top of the hill, and looked down the winding dirt track which led to the cemetery. Grey-black headstones jutted up from the barren earth, like the decaying fingernails of a titanic corpse, lurking just beneath the surface. I steeled myself for what was to come, and began the slow decent into the valley.

4/?

>>47917752

Anyone actually interested in seeing the rest?

>>47918185
Yes

>>47917752

The road had been so pitted and pocked by decades of neglect, that I opted to park the car, and continue on on foot. If the car went into the valley, I wasn't sure I'd be able to get it back out.

The sun had finally disappeared, taking with it a tiny fraction of the heat. From down in the valley, I could see the scattered streetlights switching on, tiny points of light against the inky blackness. In the distance, flashes of heat lighting illuminated the pine forest. As I walked, I counted the telephone poles, trying to remember which one bore our sign.

It was the third one from the bottom. I stopped, and pulled out my penlight to make sure I had found it, but there it was. The three twisted threads, and just below it the letters LJT, carved into the wood of the tower. I ran my fingers over the carving, just to make sure it was real.

At the edge of the village, I listened for the sounds of life, the sounds of a town in the evening. Instead I was met with deafening silence. I continued through the deserted streets, past the muted light of townhouses, and walls of decrepit brick, plastered with flyers and notices for events long past. Other than the streetlamps, the only light came from the signs for fast food or cheap sex. As I passed each of these establishments, I could help but peer in the windows, just to assure myself that people did in fact still live in this ruin that was once a town. They did, and from what little I saw, they seemed to be happy. I took care to stay out of sight, Tepkoss had never been kind to strangers.

Within an hour, I found myself standing at the end of my parents' long driveway. It was actually Lydia's house, she'd inherited it after they'd died, but we both still knew it belonged to them. Unlike the other houses on the block, the lawn was freshly mowed, there were flowers in the front, and two cars sat in the driveway. Without hesitation, I strode up the front walk and knocked on the door.

5/?

>>47918596

I think we're over halfway done. Gonna finish up tomorrow.

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>>47895420
>>47895401
>>47895389
For some reason I'd just wana say that the Soldier; Jack Mason, is based on the gear loadout/or this is the type of gear he's wearing
<---

>GM'ing a game of Paranoia
>The equipment guy decides to "inspect" everyones laser barrels before heading out.
>He secretly tries to sabotage each and everyone.
>Fails 3 rolls succeeds with 2
>Later in the game one person uses sleight of hand to slip a grenade into the individuals pocket.
>One of the people he failed a sabotage roll on tries to fire their laser pistol
>The shot fails
>He says "Let me inspect it to see if there is anything wrong with it"
>The grenade goes off, killing both him and the other individual.
>The "saboteur" is wondering if his failed sabotage attempt backfired, the other is just plain confused.
>The real assassin is sitting in the back twiddling his thumbs.

GM'ing Paranoia is a lot of work with little payoff, but moments like these make it worth it.

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>>47906760
>when LIVVI or Taldeer; preferably Taldeer, arrive at the Institute and see Lofn

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nNXzjB6MEb0

Taldeer/LIVVI: "Please Lofn, its me; your mother/father!"
Synth Lofn: "I DO NOT KNOW YOU! GET AWAY FROM ME! MOTHER! MOTHER, HELP ME!!!"

>and then a weary looking woman who has the features of an eldar and a human (who is actually the real Lofn walks in
>then a Tyranid Ripper which seems to be the woman's pet also comes in

Mother: "Unyuufex, stand down boy. It's OK I've got this."

>the half human and half eldar looking woman then faces Lofn

Mother: "Lofn. AN-94, recall code: Sigma."

>synth Lofn shuts down and the woman faces Taldeer/LIVVI

Mother: "Fascinating... But disappointing. The child's responses were not at all what I anticipated. She is a prototype, you understand. We are just now beginning to explore the effects of extreme emotional stimuli. Please try and keep an open mind. I recognize that you are emotional and that your journey here has been fraught with challenges. Let's start anew. I am Mother. Welcome to The Institute."

###
Forgive me for the green text laziness, just wanted to release this off before I could have forgotten about it. But if any of you are willing to improve and or add upon it. You're welcome

>>47894251
Would you mind? The current version is quite different from the original draft, but still.

>>47923055
done

Do you become more or less sellable if you're a female author?

>>47923503
I assume it entirely depends on which market you're selling to. Although in fantasy/sci-fi I'd guess that it's generally better to be male, given the demographic.

doesn't really matter though since (in my opinion) you should just use your initials and keep people guessing about your gender.

Alright, rewrite of Julia is done, it came in just a little over 9k words. Now to line edit it and send it out. Going to be kind of tough choosing which extraneous details contribute to the setting enough to justify them compared to distracting from the doctor and his waifu and their journey forward through time.

>>47920865

I always thought it was standard space soldier armor

>>47914054
>>47915119
>>47916487
>>47917752
>>47918596
I'm enjoying this (although I posted the picture so I suppose I'm biased)

>>47895420
Wow, nice story but that ending Bummed me out.

>>47914599
Men turned to each other, whispering opinions and ideas. Minds were now pondering on the strange girl from nowhere and the sack of coin in her hand. A hundred thoughts passed through Kars' head. Where did she come from? How did she come by such a fortune? Just what exactly is she offering?

"Damn me, a man can eat for years with that coin..." Blada grumbled, eyes rapt to the coin shimmering in the sun. Kars would have voiced agreement, but Karl interrupted.

"Silence! All of you!" The raider shouted, his will obeyed but with great reluctance. The girl made a lofty proposition, too lofty for likes of the Ironborn, who knew the kind of hardship only a people at near endless war could know. But when she showed that coin, they were listening now. Such a powerful effect on his men had Karl sense a threat to everything he built up. Dangerous men who would fight for him, on the promise of a warm meal every night, were now being lured away by the gleam of a golden piece.

He growled, like an angry wolf, “and where would you take us, girl? Some godforsaken battlefield on the other side of the world!?”

“Somewhere better than home,” Alexis shot back. Those words stung at the Ironborn. For some, it told a terrible truth, that the Iron Satropies could no longer be the home they wanted. For others, it was an insult, to even imply that the fatherland was worse off than the rest of the world, diminished as it is. For Kars, safe to say he was in the first camp.

“And what’s better than home?” He finally asked, after holding his silence for as long he had. Blada and Karl wheeled their heads to him; Blada, in shock, Karl, in anger.

“Damn it, Kars, hold your tongue!” Karl hissed.

“No!” Kars shouted back defiantly. It felt odd to defy the man who took him in, even if it meant fighting for him, but the girl promised something greater. At least, greater than Karl and his little fort.

Alexis smiled, her bait was bit, now to reel in the hook.

>7/I 'unno

>>47938199
She had butchered the man in his sleep. His through slit, hit bowels torn out. Gore coated the scene. The whole act came with a rush she the likes of which she had never experienced before. And yet, it left her unsatisfied. She craved another kill.

But morning would come, and the watch would jail her. The trial would be swift and without mercy. The verdict? Beheading, just as she had beheaded the man.

With these thoughts she carried the man's head into the moonlight.

Much to her surprise, the man's head became heavy. When she gazed down she saw not a man's head, but the head of a giant wolf.

The man had been a werewolf! This changed everything. A hero's greeting now awaited her, rather than the executioner's axe.

As she held the lifeless head in her arms, a wicked smile appeared from underneath her hood.

>>47945618
"This is your plan? You're going to smuggle it out like this?" Peter Pithywew Rotthschild stared at the creation uncertainly. He didn't quite know what to do with his hand; part of him wanted to reach out and pick at the statue to see if it would peel apart at the... well it didn't have seams but it felt like it did.

Jonjon from Elm Street didn't know what to do with his feet. "Um, yes Sir," he said, hiding his hands behind his back so that Peter hopefully wouldn't notice that the little finger on his left hand had been glued together while he had making the statue. "Customs regulations are quite lax on art objects. Or rather, they're very tight but they're so tight that they'll never be able to step back and see what it really is."

"Oh no, I see what you... did you have a model for this? It's amazingly lifelike," Peter said, his uncertain hand now roaming the air above the statues... he moved the hand closer to the shoulders before simply pulling it back.

Jonjon now had to hide his face. "Not so much in person as um, well you know the red headed girl on Maple Street? The one who lives in the bakery?"

Peter nodded, he had no idea who the girl was, but if this worked then Jonjon was going to be a very rich man by Maple Street standards. "So, the underside just sort of...?"

"Melts off sir, with a bit of vinegar. The acid will break down the clay and then the whole thing will come apart," Jonjon answered, brightening a bit.

"And wah-la? Like it was fresh from the mint?" Peter said, taking a step back from a thousand gold sterling, counterfeit. He slapped the boy on the back. "That's bloody brilliant. I'll tell my man in Quirm to buy a barrel of the stuff. We're going to be rich men Jonjon... I think."

>>47864294
Fanaticism has, for as long as men have known, been the greatest company to Religion.

Such was the case of the Children's Crusade.
As far as history has recorded, these crusades, inspired by children who thought themselves guided by God Himself to reclaim the Holy Land, proved to be failures. This guidance failed to manifest itself before these crusaders when they needed them and eventually the children disbanded and returned to their homes. Some of them, however, refused to accept defeat and waited for God's Blessing to reclaim Jerusalem.

Such was the case of Linus Mallorie - or as later discoveries would have it, Lucia Mallorie.
As an infant, Lucia was carried on the Children's Crusade by her elder sister and only caretaker, as their parents had died to a disease. However, after their visit with the Pope, they opted to stay in the Papal States, to await God's calling. This upbringing would convince little Lucia about the righteousness of Religion. Around this time, the two sisters were adopted by sir Uther, a former Squire of the Templars. His training would further indoctrinate the sisters in the Catholic Faith.
As it was, young Lucia grew to be rather tomboyish, eventually mistaken to be a boy by a band of Templars. Convinced that this was God's calling, she soon cast aside her identity and infiltrated a young group of boys who trained to become full-fledged Templar. Despite her sister's protests about the risks of being a Templar, Lucia continued her path and eventually became a Squire of the Templar Order, attached to a Sir Havernorth.

It was during this time that Pope Innocent III would declare a Fifth Great Crusade, whose goal - same as all others - is to reclaim the Holy Land from the Muslims. Lucia had become a pious servant of God at this time, and was eager to finally fight the war she had been a part of since she was barely able to walk.
Destiny then thrust Lucia further forward, as Havernorth was slain during the siege of Damietta.

>>47945960
Enraged, she took up her master's sword and steed and began slaughtering heretics wherever she saw them. By the time the Grand Master arrived to announce victory, the entire block that Lucia's master had been charged with was completely vacated and the streets ran with heretical blood. He was impressed with the young squire's development and assigned her to another Knight's aid, this one being Sir Vittorio.
As the crusades continued with minor assaults in expanding the foothold of the crusaders and political bickering for control, Lucia developed her own reputation as a knight. She was renowned for her ruthlessness and with that in mind, the Grand Master elevated her to the status of a full-fledged Knight of Christ and the Temple of Solomon and granted her the title of "Linus the Lion".
The period of acclimation between squiredom and knightdom was a swift one - too swift, some said. She paid little mind to the naysayers though; she was chosen by God to fight for His people, and nothing would stop her.

This all would fall to ruin after 1220, when the crusaders finally marched towards the Holy Land. Surprise raids by the Muslims were everywhere, and the Crusaders, despite their holy cause, could not hold on. Eventually, there were only a few hundred crusaders and attached members left, and they were cornered by the heathens. During this battle, Lucia was wounded so severely that she had to remove her armor, and that was all the opportunity needed to reveal her true identity. The Templars were outraged; their order was infiltrated by a harpy, a succubus. She was unceremoniously stripped of her title and her equipment, and was cast out by the rest of the crusaders. Their intention was that she would die neglected out there, either by the inhospitable desert or by the raiders.

>>47930612
Before I go further with this I could do with some feedback.

How am I doing?

>>47948040
>>47903483
Eventually, raiders would come across a young woman clad in dirtied, torn robes and grant her their campfire. That would prove to be a fatal mistake, as Lucia, now unhinged from her abandonment by God's people, murdered them all by the campfire. From there, she wandered aimlessly in the desert, murdering anyone she met who did not profess their faith in Jesus Christ.

Eventually, this lone crusader found like company again in the form of a detachment of nuns, looking for a way back to Damietta, where the faithful resided. They took her in as one of their own and in exchange, Lucia became their guardian without questioning her past. Though frightened, they were far more than grateful that a warrior with a visage as angelic as hers would take their side.
Their return was not greeted with praise for the return of God's people, but to incarceration as prisoners of the now-united heathen offensive. The demands were simple: The city for the prisoners. However, that meant little to Lucia. She was eager to spill their blood and reclaim the city again, with or without knightly assistance. The nuns, while appreciative of the sentiment of liberation, were nonviolent.

Their pleas for peace were not heeded, and Lucia began one last, desperate battle for her birthright. She stole a guard's weapons and murdered him with them and roused those prisoners still willing to fight to join her in their last razing of the city. Without the organized offensives of the Knights, the battle could only be a hit-and-run offensive. Despite her training, the losses were high - part of this could be attributed to the poor equipment of the prisoners, but the rest fell upon her fleeting sanity which demanded more heathen blood.
The last of these casualties would be Lucia herself, who finally met her end after taking the brunt of an archer's barrage. In her last moments, she could only halfheartedly mutter about the angels coming to reward her.

>>47949533
It is not known if she was ever buried, or if she was even found by the crusading forces as they finally surrendered their claims.

By all rights, Lucia should not even be remembered, as her name was hastily scrubbed from the Templar records lest her presence stain their honor. Any other records from associated Crusading authorities took heed from the Templars, removing her mention where it could be found. The only reason she even was remembered was because of the nuns, who survived the rampage and returned to France. They eventually returned to their order in Orleans.
Two hundred years later, a farmgirl claiming divine providence visited this monastery. These sisters told the farmgirl about the tale of young Lucia. She resolved that she would fight not for fighting's sake, but to end the fighting and set off to meed with the man she said was meant to rule France.

That farmgirl's name was Jeanne D'Arc.

>>47945960
>>47948040
>>47949533
>>47949723
Good work with combining the images to make a story, Anon. Sorry if I can't provide a true critique but I love it.

>>47926514
>>47926514
"And these,"Alex said"will be the members of your new team."

Alex stood in the front of the small room he shared with Martin next to a white board. The lights of a cheap projector flickered over his face. He pressed a button on a remote and After a click, a large photograph appeared on the screen.

It was the bog standard mug and body shot combination the agency used to documate their agents. Martin had seen some before in the past, in training. The real thing however, the one of his partners was something different.

Martin's eyes trailed over the first picture. The mugshot was of a male in his late teens. He had black hair tan skin, and although he wasn't smiling he had a look to his face that was kind. Without seeing any other parts of his body, Martin mind decided he was a farm boy.

He hesitated to look to the right. The face was always the last thing to go in the necro's. His face looked friendly but only god knew what was wrong with his body.

He looked over and flinched.

Alex noticed it and smiled. "Yeah Jimmy is kind of creepy looking."

There were no bones sticking out of his skin and his flesh wasn't deformed. His limbs however were too big for his body, his arms reaching down well past his knees and his legs unnaturally long in comparison to his body. His arms and legs were heavily muscled and in the shirt and sweats the company dressed their necro's in he looked like a statue whose craftsman had fallen ill..

"Jesus Christ."Martin said.

"Oh don't be scared." Alex said. "He looks like a demon admittedly but he's quite nice."

"Really?" Martin said.

"Yeah," Alex said waving him off. "No kills before we found him. He was actually on a farm, doing the chores, milking the cows all that farm stuff. We think his parents got the disease and when they died and he didn't he just kept doing what he used to. Doing a pretty good job of it apparently until harvest time came."

>>47952173
The image of it popped into Martin's head, of the giant on the screen toiling away in some fields, the disease running through his viens and the corpses of his parents in his house. They were probably in their bed or in the dining room taken away in a second.

"What happened at harvest?" Martin said.

Alex looked."He harvested it all. And when people saw him they called us. We got him off the farm by telling him we were going to make sure somebody competent would take over."

"Harmless."Martin said.

"He does likes the UFC though," Alex said. "so if he grabs someone around the neck he's probably going to pop their head off so keep that in mind."

Martin stared at him.

"It's not as bad as it sounds. I've only ever seen him do it to Necro's so there's not a lot of blood. And he's mute." Alex smiled and a thumbs up. "So no creepy grunting when he does it."

Martin said nothing and after a moment, Alex coughed into his hand and clicked the button again.

A girls face appeared on the screen this time. Martin's eyes flickered over to the full body shot immediately and saw nothing obviously wrong. Her skin was pale but healthy, her hair, blond, not dyed, was done up. She was pretty.

"This is Anne," Alex said. "She's killed about sixteen people that we know about."

There it was.

"Her daddy turned her in and gave us a lot of money so we wouldn't kill her.She's a class ten slightly unstable but we can control her despite the."Alex hesitated. "severity of the disease."

Martin nodded his head and looked at her closer. She was smiling in the picture and looked for all the world like a normal girl. She didn't look like a monster.

"Wait she's a class ten?"

"Yeah."

"But I thought you said Jimmy didn't kill anyone."Martin said. "Why's he paired up with a class ten?"

Alex hesitated and looked away.

"Why is Jimmy paired up with a class ten?" Martin said.

"She's obsessed with him. "Alex said finally.

"Obsessed?"

>>47952186
"Her body is perfectly fine but the mind went in the major way."Martin said." She thinks they're married and we play along. Jimmy doesn't seem to mind and it keeps her from getting too angry. Except with that thing with Dolores of course."

"What thing with Dolores?"Martin said.

"She was the officer assigned to Jimmy before you." Alex said. "anne thought she was making moves on Jimmy. tried to decapitate her."

He clicked the button twice, skipping what looked like a photo of the two of them together to what looked like a still from a surveillance camera. From the grainy shot Martin could make out a woman sprawled out on the ground holding her head and Jimmy holding Anne up in from under her armpits.

"Jimmy stopped her though."Alex said. "And from there on we decided no women."

Alex stopped talking and looked at Martin"Are you gay?"

"No." Martin said.

"Good cause she'd rip your dick off." Alex said.

Martin turned to look back at screen.

Anne's face was twisted up into a snarl, her lips peeled back to reveal teeth that seemed to big for her mouth. Her hands were squeezing Jimmy's forearms and in the back of his mind Martin remembered something about the average grip strength of a necro being able to crush steel.

"You ready to meet them?" Alex said.

He looked up at the picture again.

There was nothing human there. The way she snarled, the way the boy looked down at the bleeding woman. They weren't alive it seemed, just two animals, one better trained than the other.

"Yeah."Martin said finally."I'm ready."

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>be on a huge writing stride
>accident with kitchen equipment
>left hand's fingers are unusable until the wounds heal

Writing with one hand is a fucking pain let me tell you what.

>>47879079
I like to think that this post was written by Panem

>>47913280
"SHIT SHIT SHIT DIE YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT"
The barking of the revolver covered Dr McCreedy's cussing as he discharged it into the quivering pillars of flesh sprouting from the poisoned well. He was breathing heavily between profanities and despite the six slugs of whiskey he had in him, he was sporting a respectable erection from the sheer excitement. He tried to focus on relodaing his gun but his hands were trembling like leaves.
Carl, the retarded brother of the bitch that was the cause of all the trouble, had been silent and struck in awe since his sister had started blurting that inane gibberish but he suddenly burst out screeching like a wounded monkey as a thick tentacle wrapped itself across its chest.
The infernal scream of the mongoloid turned into a pathetic gargle and McCreedy was hit right in the cheek by a wet, heavy mass. The pasty bastard fell to the ground with all the momentum of a bag of lard in a trenchoat and laid there, his head ringing like the bells of St Mary's
He looked up and glances at the devious smile of the sorcerous Mullen bitch but his jaw clenched as he felt a myriad of tentacles ripping apart his pants and making their way towards his old brass eye at staggering speed ...

This inspired of the fuck out of me today. Please take a read and tell me what you think, it's not very long.

http://pastebin.com/uU7jTAUn

>>47955493
>http://pastebin.com/uU7jTAUn
no one will read this unless you re upload in internet formatting

ie empty line between paragraphs

>>47955493
Seems nice, though some parts seem a bit pointless or difficult to understand like so:

>So they balanced for a moment, the white figure and the black, *both faceless,* dancer-like above the motionless child...

>Let them accept her life *and the years of her life until her death, which is also theirs*.

>>47949378
Bump for feedback/critique.

Will write up more stuff in the meantime.

>>47945795
Anyone else like this one? Its a little slow explaining itself, but perhaps not too slow.

>>47960356
I am the mightiest. The greatest, most powerful of all the old gods. Upon my armor is carved the many faces of my many enemies, all torn and twisted from the agonizing deaths i gave them. I was forced into slumber by my very own traitorous children, doomed dream of nothing but defeat, the greatest of shames one could bestow upon me. But i broke out, i escaped the fate my siblings would never be able to, the weaklings. I stride upon the barren fortress i once called home, the seat of gods. It has been generations, so many that even my own children have grown weak and weary, retreated to obscurity, Many generations of gods have come and gone, but my might sustained my boy in it's peak form. I stride across the dusty halls and find messages carved into the black marble walls. Messages warning me to return to slumber lest face death at the hands of the guardian of this age, a creature powerful enough to smite me down. The fools believe that they could create something powerful enough to defeat when they themselves had to resort to trickery and imprisonment. Mightily i chuckle and forge onward, eager to face this poweful "guardian" desitned to defeat me. As i close upon the gates, the guardian finally makes it's appearance. When i first gazed upon it, her, three words escaped my lip.
"WHAT THE FUCK!?"

>>47961100
This puny creatures is supposed to fight me? My own teeth are larger than the scrawny girl before me. This is the mighty guardian designed or born to defeat me? The greatest of all gods that there is, was or ever will be? Did my progeny believe that i would keel over from laughing when i saw this? And i thought them above such childish schemes. The little girl finally takes notice of my presence and rises, taking her spot atop a fallen piece of the roof. The cracks on the ceiling shine upon that spot, and that spot alone, in the entire fortress.

"Who may you be, big one?" says the child.

"I need no name, and never have! My deeds, my power and my undeniable presence is more than enough to signify who i am!".

"I'll call you Biggey then".

Is this child serious? She dares to stand before me and call me childish names, something i was above from birth and will remain until my death, for no name could capture my magnificence. I sneer at her from my growing frustration at this farce.

"You need to go back to sleep. The others are so peaceful, but you always thrashed and turned when asleep. You should calm down."

"Silence! Your presence alone is a mockery of my combat prowess and you dare talk to me like you are superior to me? ME!? Have you any idea what i have done, who i have fought and defeated? Gaze upon my armor. See the faces of those i defeated, some my own brothers, some creatures that i shaped myself for they had no form before facing me! Do you believe that YOU could do what they all have failed at?"

"Yes"

>>47961270
My rage is undending. I seethe within my armor, eager to strike her down. But she is not even worth lifting my finger for. I will simply ignore her, hard as it might be. I few steps towards my freedom, my revenge, my-

"Running away are we?"

She dares? SHE DARES!??! I have reached my limit, i will obliterate her, erase all signs of her existence and any associated with her. My wrath shall be legendary.

"Ready to go back to sleep then?"

"I will destroy you, child! Nothing shall remain of you once i am done!"

"Like those people on your armor? Is it because of that you slept so restlessly?"

I raise my fist and bring it down upon her. The already ruined floor becomes cracked, a crater forms where my fist landed. My gauntlet burst into flames against the air, melting stone and metal that is adorned on the slabs. Her existence has been erased and i may forever forget this unwanted detour which my children designed for-

"Are you done throwing a tantrum?"

>>47961403
"Just go to sleep already, you are still grumpy."

How? When? What is she? This can't be real. I have fought creatures who could become nothing, see future and stop time, yet none of them were able to fight back, survive or even dream about avoiding my strikes. And this scrawny little whore not only managed to dodge, but land on my gauntlet?! This must be an illusion, more trickery designed to keep me away from my vengeance, my rightful destine. I will simply ignore it and continue. There is nothing she can do as she does not exist. I open the doors and see the sun for the first time in eternity. I gaze yonder and see the same familiar walls i just walked. Something about that sentence doesn't make sense.

"Just go back to sleep. You are clearly tired"

This is impossible. The beasts i have slain have bent time and space, weave illusions that would fool anybody but me, my eyes that have been trained to see beyond what my mind tells me, yet when i peer behind the door, i see no illusion, no trickery and the gates give off no signs of being anything but gates.

"Just go to sleep. You are tiring us both."

What is she? How is she able to weave reality without me noticing? There is something at works. I understand now. This is still a dream, all i have to do is awake from this nightmare and resume to my mission.

"You look tired. You should just go back to sleep".

This nightmare will continue as long as i stay awake. That little girl must be some twisted representation of my deepest thoughts. I shall return to slumber and become awake once more. My anger shall know no bound once i unleash it upon those who deserve to face my retribution.

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

Biggey doesn't know, but he is very easy to trick into going back to sleep. All it needs is a mirror that doesn't show his reflection, a doppelganger and invisibility. He's a nice guy, really, he just needs to take his nap or he stays grumpy.

>>47927694

Then o did my job

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Czechfag here once again with a new batch of nonsense.
>A Match
The faculty’s soccer championship for the Rector’s Cup took an unexpected and dramatic twist. We were sitting under the scorching sun on the benches of the small stadium, watching representatives of individual departments sliding around on the dry yellow glass in their white socks, when suddenly, the ball jumped high in the air. Perhaps the poor piece of leather got fed up with decades of mistreatment and started craving revenge, and perhaps it was not the ball itself, but rather some strange creature that nested in it’s hollow entrails like a hermit crab and got waken up by the violent kicks - be it as it may, when the ball fell down into the grass again, it had sprung several thin, long legs and a giant eyeball peaking from the seam in the leather. It briskly rose from the ground and dodged a kick of one of the players, who could not react fast enough to the unexpected development. Poor player lost his balance and fell to the ground - and yelped in pain, as the ball kicked him back.
And so, the match gained a whole new dynamic and I (I have to admit that up till that point, the whole match was seriously boring me) started looking at it with a brand new interest. The animated ball was quickly proving itself to be a considerable better player than members of both opposing teams and it did not take more than a minute till one of the players himself flew through the goal posts. The rest of the players were running around in confusion, trying to dodge the perfectly aimed kicks and passes of the ball: the strange spider-like creature was skillfully picking them up and sending them flying towards the goal post. A couple of young girls sitting beside me, who came to cheer for their friends and sweethearts, were screaming at the referee to stop the match, or at least to dismiss the ball from the field for foul play.
(1/3?)

>>47970725
“Hand ball!” was one of the girls screaming. “That’s an obvious handball! God dammit, referee!”
But the referee did not acknowledge them, and I had to take his side: after all, who could say with any certainty that the long, insect-like appendage protruding from the ball, that twisted around one of the players and hurled him towards the side of the field was a hand or a leg?
The anger among the tribunes was growing thicker by the minute. Fans of both teams, up till a moment ago two sides of unforgivable enemies, were suddenly holding each other around shoulders and excitedly agreeing among themselves about the injustice at hand: The ball, as it turned was perfectly neutral and was punishing members of both teams on the field with a perfectly unbiased and fair wrath. I think I was the only person in the tribunes to actually side with the ball, despite the fact that he was easily and by far the best player fielded.
The bruised and beaten up players the players that the ball managed to get a hold off were pulling themselves up from the ground and limping back to the benches, while the captains of both teams, perhaps too bent on seeing the match through fairly fielded new and new players - only to see them flying around the field like rag dolls moments later. Those who were not hurled through the goal posts ended up mashed against the soft net that surrounded the field, while the referee was signaling out of bounds.
“What is this?!” a small, dark haired girl beside me yelled at the top of her lungs. “What kind of game is the referee even watching?!”
(2/3?)

>>47970735
“Finally a fun one.” I wanted to say, but when I saw the anger of the crowd, I held that remark back. The ball, perhaps growing increasingly defilant in face of the adversity of the crowd, was acting bolder and bolder - nonchalantly juggling the players in the air while proudly parading itself around the field and then sending them flying towards the goal posts of their respective opposing teams just for the sport of it.
“I can’t watch this anymore!” somebody was screaming. “Just end the match already!”
The referee was merciless: “I’ll end when the second half time is over.” he replied somberly. And so the match continued on. The crowd finally went silent, the voices of objections died out and were replaced with murderous glares. The fans, once sword enemies, were now sitting shoulder to shoulder, joined together with a violent intent. They forgot all about the adversities that once divided them. And I realized: the tribunes came to a definitive decision: to repay shame with shame, and blood with blood. And suddenly all my enjoyment of the peculiar match vanished, and I wanted to stand up on the tribune and yell:
“Run! Run you damn creature, run, whatever you are. There is no point in winning today, there is no shame in running away.”
But I knew there would be no point. The ball had known from the start that he was doomed the very second the referee whistless the end of the match. He played all the more eagerly. The players already gave up entirely, and remained lying motionlessly on the ground where the ball threw them, waiting patiently to be picked up again, dragged towards the middle lane and hurled into the air again. The tribunes were silent. Such a shame, I thought. Maybe the single creature of it’s kind, this miracle of life, will be torn into pieces by the broken ego of sports fans.
(3/4 because I can't count, apparently)

>>47970740
I could not watch the match any more, so I rose up from the benches and headed out, into the outskirts of Olomouc. Only three minutes were left till the end of the match when I lighted up a cigarette outside of the stadium and quickly marched away from a match that had taken an unexpected twist, and that was inevitably heading towards a tragedy.
(4/4)

The usual caveats apply. Translation, not a native speaker, all that stuff.
Sadly I don't have much more ready now. Things have been kinda shite lately, though that might change soon. Cheers and as always, thanks to all that keep these threads a thing.

>>47970725
>>47970735
>>47970740
>>47970753
very amusing story anon. Not very deep, but fun.

there were a couple of spelling errors that I noticed, though.

>growing increasingly defilant in face of the adversity of the crowd
defiant
>The fans, once sword enemies
sworn

the most serious translation problem was your use of the word tribune - that doesn't mean in English what it apparently means in Czech (the only time it's used in English is when referring to the ancient Roman elected official), and it took me a little while to work out what you meant. The word you want is probably 'stands' (or, less commonly, 'hustings'). Although in a couple of places you'd probably be better off just using 'crowd' or 'spectators'.

>>47971185
Thanks. This story was indeed not intended to be deep, it was just a small idea that occurred to me when I was watching an actual faculty soccer championship few weeks ago and I was wondering how could it be made actually interesting and fun to watch, and I suddenly imagined the ball chasing the players and thought it would make for a odd little tale.
You are right about the translation errors (the "tribunes" are indeed, the czech words for "stands or in less direct sense "crowd"), I'll fix them. Once again - thanks for the feedback. To be perfectly honest, I was generally struggling with the english soccer terminology in general, but I had not slept in ages, and I really felt like posting something, so I kinda half-arsed the research on the translation.

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Requesting someone do a story of this image:

This is from drawthread and apparently the story of this image is two mages in the morally good alignment are hiring a private military contractor to join their party so that he can provide extra firepower and also the contractor can do the "morally bad and or ambiguous" acts that will tarnish the alignment of the two mages.

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an elf girlfriend impressing her human boyfriend by wearing human clothes.