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Lady Moreta
2010-08-31, 03:37 AM
Lately, I have taken to writing up portions from our D&D game into little vignettes, all in first person.

The first two are told from the point of view of my character, Silver. The second is the point of view of the NPC Paladin Lester, who is traveling with us (DM told me I got into Lester's head better than he did, which I consider high praise :smallbiggrin:).

Please note, I am not very good at writing in first person (I hate it as a general rule), so I'm also using these as a way to practice. If anyone has any advice or constructive critisim on how to do it better, please let me know :smallsmile:

So, without further adue...

Why Girls Shouldn't Kiss
(or A Bad Day for Will Saves)
I never, ever want to go through something like that again. I wish I knew some sort of memory modifying spell so I could cast it on myself. That was awful. It was disgusting. And now Rifus won’t shut up about it. I suppose, all things considered, I should be grateful Tanc thinks fast on his feet, or I might still be stuck up there, with that – thing.

Telia looked, sounded, and acted like any normal teenaged half-elf. She was so pathetically grateful when we got her out of that hobgoblin prison; I don’t think any of us considered she might be a threat. It wasn’t until she and Rifus started wandering off together all day that anyone got suspicious. You might think it perfectly natural, she was young, Rifus is young – why wouldn’t they want to keep each other company? On the other hand, we’ve made our living being suspicious, and we’re all currently alive because of it. So tough. Tanc waited until Rifus and Telia had gone off again before talking to Lester, and asking him if he wouldn’t mind just checking if Telia might just happen to scan as evil. I admit, there was a part of me that was hoping she’d be fine. It’s been a long couple of weeks (and an even longer period of months before that), I think we’re overdue for rest. But no. The first words out of Lester’s mouth “I’ve noticed she seems to be avoiding me”. Great, even the paladin is suspicious. That just ramped my paranoia up a notch.

Still, they got back, and Rifus wasn’t sporting horns – on his head at least. Nera and I were sitting together, as we usually do. Hobgoblins aren’t fond of elves, and they’re not quite sure what to make of catfolk – like I said, we’re suspicious and it keeps us alive. I was watching Lester’s face, and I could see the exact moment he detected evil on her. His face scrunched up like he’d bitten something sour. I got up, ostensibly to get another drink, and if that just happened to take me past where Tanc and Lester were sitting – well, it’s a small inn. Lester glanced up at me as I went past – he must be the only human male who doesn’t watch me with that on his mind. He said something perfectly innocuous, so innocuous that I’ve forgotten it completely, and then murmured “she detects as evil. Extremely evil”.

“Don’t tell Rifus” I muttered, continuing to the bar and then back to my seat. I’ve had more experience with enchantments and their affects than any of the others, there’s no telling how someone will react if they’re under the influence of an enchanter. I should know, I am one. Of course, at that point the little witch made her move. I should have faked a headache and gone upstairs.

Even without Lester’s warning, I’d have known something was up the minute she started in on my accent. I’ve spent years trying to erase the sound of Domoth from my voice, and it is the one thing I simply cannot get rid of. It’s also the one thing everyone who knows me knows better than to comment on. So, point one – my hackles were already raised. Point two – she’d put her bloody foot in it, good and proper. But it wasn’t until she suggested I might like to be her ‘big sister’ instead that I really understood this wasn’t some little half-elf girl we were dealing with. I had no particular desire to be anyone’s sister, and I wasn’t shy about letting her know it. All she did then was suggest we go upstairs and talk about it some more. Even as I heard my voice saying “sure” and felt myself get up and go upstairs with her, my mind was screaming at me that this was wrong. This was wrong. This was very wrong and very bad. I’ve cast enough enchantment spells to recognise the effects of one when it’s used on me.

It seemed like such a good idea too, how could this little slip of a girl possibly be any threat? She wasn’t wearing the rags we’d found her in any more, but clothes were all she had. I was still wearing my bladed cloak, and I had my component pouch – she couldn’t possibly be a threat. As if my mind had suddenly split in two there was another voice hammering at the back of my mind, demanding shrilly that this was a bad idea. It wanted to know why I would willingly go upstairs with a girl I’d just been told was evil. The rest of my mind told it to shut up. And then we were in the room.

And then she turned to me, eyes wide, and lower lip trembling and she held out her arms to me “sister?”. And then she kissed me. And I went willingly into her arms. That foremost part of my mind was quite happy, what could be more natural than kissing one’s brand new sister. Hadn’t I always wanted a sister? Hadn’t I always thought that life on Domoth wouldn’t have been so bad, wouldn’t have driven me off the island, if I’d had siblings? The secondary part of my mind, rapidly being pushed into a smaller and smaller space, was screaming at the top of its metaphorical lungs. “Don’t do this! Don’t do this! Don’t do this!” stuck on repeat. Then a panicked “Don’t do it again!” as Telia beamed at me, and moved in again, closer this time.

And then her breath was hot and moist on my face. And then her lips had fastened over mine. And then her tongue was in my mouth, biting down on mine. And then she breathed in sharply. And then I felt pain. I felt something tug on my mind, it was pulled, ripped away and the tiny, terrified part of my mind started screaming. It knew that there were suddenly spells I couldn’t remember, abilities I had that I knew I could no longer do. The thought of trying to intimidate someone, or talk them around to my view was suddenly awful, I felt sure I would fail. And throughout it all, as I tasted blood in my mouth, and a horrid sickly sweet flavour on my tongue, the foremost part of my mind told me how perfectly natural and sensible this was. That I had a sister now, and why wouldn’t I do everything in my power to make her happy, to make her satisfied. I knew her story wasn’t that far-fetched. My kin are extremely xenophobic, I had heard stories and been around for some of them, the friends of my childhood, cast out because they bore a child who wasn’t fully elven. Perhaps, perhaps said this blissfully happy part of my mind, perhaps she was right after all. Perhaps she was my daughter, my child.

It couldn’t possibly be true! the other half of my mind – growing ever smaller, insisted. You’ve never… You’ve come close, I couldn’t deny that. Perhaps you simply forgot. Perhaps she is right. You spent a lot of time off Domoth, learning to dance. Maybe, just maybe… your mother always favoured you, maybe she tried to make you forget.

Then I went flying backwards as Tanc barrelled into the room, and slammed into Telia, knocking me aside and onto the floor. How had I not heard him? Tanc isn’t exactly subtle, and – had I locked the door? I wasn’t sure. One part of my mind screamed at me, insisted I get up and help my sister? Daughter? The other part of my mind simply screamed, pain and rage and fear all rolled into one. Before I could act on either impulse, Lester had stormed past, his face furious. His longsword was already in his hand, and he aimed the point at Telia’s throat, demanding she stop and give herself up. Rifus and Nera were hovering in the doorway, avoiding the splinters – we’d have to pay for that damage later. Neither of them did anything, they simply watched, eyes dark and concerned.

Telia paid no attention to either of them, she looked directly at me, and cried out in a tortured voice that I will never forget, though I long to. “Mother!” I scrambled to my feet, ignoring Lester’s angry growl and Nera’s sharp cry of “Silver, don’t!” I couldn’t hear anything but Telia sobbing as she writhed beneath Tanc’s strong grip. I couldn’t hear anything but the sound of my own heart pounding, and the two voices in my mind, both screaming “Help her!” “She’s evil!” “She’s your daughter!” “You don’t know that! She’s evil!” “She might be!” “She’s manipulating you!” “What if I’m wrong? What if she is? What if she’s right?” “She’s evil! Remember what Lester said!” “But what if? whatifwhatifwhatifwhatifwhatif?”

Pain and fear and confusion and anguish all slamming into the two halves of my mind, and my heart. Totally disoriented, I gave up on making sense of any of it and ran at Tanc

“Let her go!” I hardly recognised my own voice as I lunged, and completely missed. Tanc simply raised an elbow and fended me off. I grabbed at his tunic and started pulling, desperately, frantically. “Let her go! She might actually be my daughter!” I heard a whistle come from Rifus behind me, and a startled gasp from Nera. Tanc chanced a glance over his shoulder at me, I have no idea what he saw, but it was obvious he didn’t believe me. The smaller part of my mind, and growing ever smaller as it tried to flee against the force of Telia’s attacks pointed out that this was to be expected. I tried harder.

Then, Rifus was there. Nimbler than I am, he got his arms around Tanc’s shoulders and tried to prise him off. He might as well have tried to shift a boulder. Nothing moves Tanc unless he wants it to. Nera was still hovering in the doorway, and Rifus was yelling something at Tanc, who was ignoring him in his attempts to keep Telia pinned to the floor.

Chaos unravelled. Abruptly, her face changed, and she was no longer the sweet-faced half elf we rescued, that I was still trying to rescue apparently. Face and form changed, and all at once a succubus was there, face contorted in rage, swearing in a language I didn’t understand. Then, before anyone could act; she vanished. Tanc yelled, Rifus swore and unbalanced now, both of them fell flat on their faces. Lester’s sword point wavered, but he said nothing.

All I felt was pain. Pain in my head from where the two halves of my mind abruptly collided and the realisation of what had just happened started to intrude upon my consciousness. Pain in my rear as I too overbalanced and fell backwards, bounced off the edge of the bed and landed on the floor. The subconscious part of my mind was kind enough not to gloat as the rest of it caught up to reality. A headache was rapidly developing behind my left eye – presumably to match the one behind my right. I closed them both. Partly to combat the pain, and partly because I simply could not deal with the looks I knew I must be getting. What an utter fool I had made of myself.

“Silver?” Nera’s voice, concerned. “You have a daughter?” Rifus’ voice, curious. Then a thud and protest as, presumably, Tanc hit him. These people were – oddly enough, my friends, and I knew how they would react. I also knew how they would react if I continued to remain silent, which meant I had better find my voice, and fast.

“Nnnnmmphh” eloquent, very eloquent. I have never been able to think straight with a headache, and this one had taken up permanent residency behind my eyes. Pain lanced through my temples, bringing nausea with it, and I groaned. I heard the rustle of steel in leather as Lester sheathed his sword and the clink of armour as he knelt before me.

“Silver?” astonishing how a man that bit can sound so gentle. “Open your eyes.” That had to be the last thing I wanted to do, but I forced them open. “Ouch” I whispered, even the dim light from the candles in the room hurt. The headache and nausea ramped up a notch and I retched. The next instant, I felt Nera’s hands on my shoulders, holding tight, and Lester’s hand on my temple. Even that slightest of touches hurt and I involuntarily pulled away. “This wasn’t your idea, was it?” he inquired. Shrewd, very shrewd. Whatever could have given him that idea? “No. It most definitely wasn’t” there that sounded more like me. “Whatever gave you the impression I’d willingly go upstairs with a woman you just told us was ‘extremely evil’?” sarcasm, first, last and best defence. Or it would be if I didn’t feel like throwing up.

“Silver, I need to know what she did” that got my eyes open. I glared at him, “do not make me say it” I told him flatly “you saw.” “I know, but what did she do? What happened?” Oh. That’s what he meant. “I don’t know” honesty, how I hate it. “It hurt though. Still hurts. Felt like – ripping, pulling, she took parts of my mind. My-” I broke off and started swearing, “the last spells I learned, I’ve forgotten them. I’ve forgotten what they were called!” I could hear the rising panic in my voice, and hated myself for it. Lester ignored it. Wise man. “Ahhh. I think I know” and then his voice sounded, some type of spell I wasn’t sure I recognised, though part of me insisted I should know the intonations, the words, even if I couldn’t have cast it myself. What the hell had that hag done to me? I forced my eyes open again, Lester on his knees in front of me, looking pleased. Tanc hovering above him, looking worried. Rifus next to Tanc, looking curious. And Nera still behind me, still supporting me.

And then I knew. And the headache started to fade. And I remembered the spells I’d lost, the abilities I’d lost, the memories I’d lost. And myself, left with the memory I wished I could forget.


Don't Mess With Those Who Can Mess Back
(or Next Session is Going to Be Fun)
I’m just staring out into the darkness at the moment, wondering if there’s anything out there to see. It’s pitch black, but I can see in shades of grey out to where I think the tree line is. Shades of grey, except for that one spot. There, all I can see is white and silver waving at me. It undulates, only vaguely face-shaped, round like a child’s. White worms appear and disappear, whipping up around the face, curling around thin thin fingers. A child?

… A child with no face.

WHAM! The thunder is enough to rattle my ears, and the lightning bolt slams through the darkness with enough force to light the entire sky. A thud, and…

“Eeahh” I managed to choke off a squeal before it became a shout. I can feel bile rising in the back of my throat, all I can do is frantically swallow, and pray I don’t throw up. Another, softer thud, and something falls against my foot. Part of the tree, covered in – in… rain drenched leaves, glistening silver-white. Sometimes, I’m an idiot.

I can’t hear, or see anything in this storm. Which is just as well, because I’m not really paying attention – if something goes wrong, I can just blame the weather. If it really is the weather of course. Two chasms and one set of crucifixes later, I’m starting to doubt everything. Which is probably the whole point. I wouldn’t say we’re paranoid, but arriving at the point where Vijae should have been and finding an empty valley has us all on edge.

But it makes me think. Think of the way they used those people, just to stall us.

That poor little boy Tiero, and his sister. I can imagine the grief their mother must feel, how horrible it must be to lose a child. Those people didn’t deserve what they got; neither did the villagers in Goldtown – though thankfully we (well Nera) were quick enough there that no one got hurt. I am grateful for Lester’s skill in healing – that is one thing we sorely lack as a group. It was – impressive to watch him at night, moving amongst those most ill. Surprising really, a man that big with such gentleness, such compassion. I hope it doesn’t get him killed.

There was no real question or discussion about which way to go after that – nothing was going to get us anywhere near that little farming settlement again. Nothing.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful that I cannot dream – if I could, they would be bad dreams. Nightmares. I am 123 years old, I have seen a lot in my time. I have done a lot; but I have never seen anything that disturbed me as much as the things I have seen – and done, today.

None of us had any inkling that those men were plain merchants. We knew it was a set-up. Two wagons, overturned in the road – how could it be anything but? When Tanc snuck up and reported back that there were four men waiting in ambush, that was simply confirmation. It wasn’t until that fourth man, the one on the left-hand side of the road came shuffling out of the bushes and attacked Nera that I realised anything was wrong.

I’m not sentimental, I can’t afford to be. But even I wish we could go back in time and change what happened then. I knew, as soon as he appeared, that there was something wrong with the way he was moving. His hands jerked and his body stuttered like a puppet on a string. But it was his eyes that told the story. They were blank. Completely blank. Even as Rifus shot him (and honestly it’s Rifus, he wasn’t going to miss) I was trying to yell a warning. Even as he fell, I was marvelling at the skill of the spellcaster, and wondering if I could work out how it was done. Perhaps it’s not a nice thing to do to a person. Well, I’m not always a nice person.

I don’t know that it would have been so bad really – if not for the look of absolute horror on Lester’s face. Sometimes that man’s compassion gets the better of him. Next time something like this happens, I must remember – not to tell the paladin. It’s not his fault, and with blast-happy Rifus around, there wasn’t much he could have done. I can see him out of the corner of my eye; he isn’t asleep, just staring off into space. Funny that he hasn’t once blamed me. None of the others have any clue about body language, I’m the only one who had any chance of noticing anything, and I didn’t. Not until it was too late at least.

Lester insisted that we stay and bury them. It was a nice gesture, but I wonder if it wasn’t a mistake. These College of Elden people have been following us with scrying sensors for at least four or five days now. It’s dangerous to let them know too much about us. And knowing that we will allow compassion to get the better of us is dangerous.

There is one thing I never want to see again, in my life. The sight of myself on a crucifix. If that wasn’t bad enough, it took too much time to convince Tanc and Rifus that it wasn’t really us. I’ve never moved so fast in my life. Men aren’t my favourite people in the world, but to be crucified as part of some overall plot to fight us? No one deserves that. I can’t imagine how much pain they must have been in. Working together Lester and Rifus got them down, while we tried to hold the legs of those who had to wait.

Lester is staring out blankly at the storm. I wonder what he’s seeing. I wonder why I’m so busy watching him, instead of keeping my eyes open. Perhaps it’s because I can’t see or hear anything in this accursed rain anyway. Perhaps it’s because I know if this Elden bunch want to spy on us, nothing I can do is going to stop them. Perhaps it’s because I know all this is really our fault. Our pride. Our refusal. And now, not only have we possibly destroyed the lives of those farmers, but we’ve lost Methos, and we’ve lost Aspelli. This didn’t have anything to do with either of them.

I’m still not sure whether to shout at the sensor I’m sure is out there; or scream.

I don’t know what intent lay behind the events of today. But I suspect it has had the opposite affect to the one intended by the College of Elden mages. Nera’s on edge and nervous. And with the power that girl wields, it’s not a good idea to make her nervous. Tanc is so pissed he gave money to the group we pulled off the crucifixes. I’ve noticed that about Tanc, he’s a serious money-grubber – except when he’s ticked. And now he’s ticked. Rifus… well, I think Rifus is just mad that he keeps falling for the illusions. He’s so trigger-happy normally that it’s never a good idea to get in his way. Lester is seriously upset, and I – well, I am mad.

The others have made joking (and not-so-joking) references to the things I have said when trying to intimidate others, or get information out of them. I’ve seen the looks they’ve exchanged – wondering if even I would go that far. Wondering if what I’m suggesting we do is even possible. They’ve got no idea. I don’t approve of children being hurt or used. I don’t like others being abused in order to get at us. The College of Elden have no idea of what they’ve done. I am angry.

My breath comes out in soft sound, I am getting weary – it must be time to kick Rifus out here to watch. I head inside, and as I do, my gaze focuses on Lester. I realise I’ve been sitting watching him instead of watching the storm. I find that I simply don’t care. A few words to Rifus later and he takes his place at the edge of the cave, while I settle down in the spot he vacated. I can’t rest though. Now all I can see when I close my eyes is the haunted, grieving look in Lester’s. Paladins. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.

“You should sleep” I tell him quietly, sitting down on the rocky ground. “I dare say we’ll need you tomorrow.”

“If I could sleep I would not be myself” I sigh to myself, quietly – typical Lester. Still, it’s not his words that surprise me, it’s the quiet sigh, and the sudden realisation that in the bolt of lightning outside, I can see tears on his face. His compassion, his grief, makes me feel almost ashamed. Knowing he can’t see me in the darkness, I quietly tear a piece of fabric from the bottom of my skirt and wordlessly put it into his hands.

“Go to sleep” I say again, “morning will come soon enough.”

“I cannot sleep” somehow I’m not surprised

“I still have an arrow of sleep” the words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I had intended to make him laugh, and had it been anyone other than Lester, I would have succeeded.

“Sorry” I whispered, I squeezed his hand in apology. I don’t know why I’m fighting it, I share his sense of responsibility, his sense of compassion, I too grieve over loss of life – for different reasons perhaps. And my attitude, my response, is definitely not the same.

“It shouldn’t have happened” I know that as well as anyone. “And we will see to it that it never happens again.” You could write that in stone. “Tomorrow. After we rest.”

“Yes” a whisper, barely audible, but he sounds different. “Yes. Tomorrow.”

We’re both quiet then, as Tanc mumbles something and turns over. Rifus is pacing at the entrance to the cave, Nera and Tanc both sleep. I rather suspect that Lester will be able to now as well.

“Go to sleep Lester.”

I sit in silence a while longer, listening as Lester’s breathing sounds slow and even as he falls asleep. I lean against my pack and let my own eyes close. Tomorrow will come soon enough. And then this College of Elden will realise something – don’t mess with those who can mess back.

And finally...

A Paladin's Pain
(or The Same Story as Above, Told from the Paladin's Perspective)
May the Lord of Light forgive me.

Silver sits at the entrance to the cave, keeping watch. Around me, the others are asleep or resting. I find I cannot find that same peace. Every time I close my eyes, I see the same images. Those four poor souls whose lives we took. I see their faces, wooden in death, as we dig graves for them. I see the five men, crucified simply to bait us. I can only thank the Lord of Light that we were able to rescue four of them.

How I wish that we had been able to see the truth before lives had to be lost. If only Tanc had not been heard. If only Nera had been more temperate. If only Rifus was a little less accurate. I am sure they had the best of motives, concern for their friends. I am afraid I cannot acquit myself so easily. I have sworn myself to the protection of those less able than myself, those weaker, those vulnerable. In refusing the demands of this College of Elden, we have exposed numerous people to their depredations – all for the sake of what? What are they trying to do? Goad us into acting foolishly? Make us complacent? I cannot understand it.

If I cannot sleep, I should at least attempt to divine their purpose. But I cannot. As horrific as it was to see my own face on a crucifix, cruelly murdered, it was so much worse to realise that they were innocents. Men, seeking wealth, seeking adventure, cut down without a warning in order to do what? Something that I cannot ascertain.

Tanc was generous, offering them the funds they will surely require to get themselves out of this god-forsaken area. I find myself wishing we had simply acquiesced to their demands – irrational as they were. Surely then, this loss of life, this madness could have been averted. I do not know their names, but I will honour them and avenge them.

There is a slight noise as Silver makes her way past me to wake Rifus for his turn at watch. There is something in her eyes as she looks at me that makes me suspect she has been spending far more time watching me than watching the night. Perhaps I should say something about it – though with the storm raging outside, I doubt she could see or hear anything.

Rifus has gone to the front of the cave, and Silver makes few sounds as she settles herself for the rest of the night. Still she watches me; I can see in her eyes an acceptance of the past few days that I cannot find for myself. Despite all that has gone on, she has found a way to make her peace and move on. I both wish and do not wish that I could find the same acceptance.

There is the sound of rock clattering on rock as Silver comes over and joins me.

“You should sleep” she murmurs. “I dare say we’ll need you tomorrow.”

“If I could sleep I would not be myself” I reply, surprised – and yet not surprised, to find that there are tears in my eyes. There is the sound of tearing fabric, and then Silver takes my hand, turns it and presses something into it. A piece of cloth – for my tears.

“Go to sleep” she says again. “Morning will come soon enough.”

“I cannot sleep.” there is a pause,

“I still have an arrow of sleep.” It’s a funny joke, but I cannot find any laughter within myself.

“Sorry” a whisper, a small hand finds mine and squeezes it. “It shouldn’t have happened. And we will see to it that it never happens again. Tomorrow. After we rest.”

“Yes” I whisper, falling silent as Tanc grunts and turns in his sleep nearby. “Yes. Tomorrow.” I remember the scrap of fabric in my hand, and use it to wipe the tears that have run down my face. I should wonder where she got it from, but I am too tired.

“Go to sleep Lester” Silver’s voice again. She has not given me absolution, none but my god can give me that. But she has given me hope. I can feel myself falling asleep.

Lord of Light, I am sorry. Forgive me.

Esser-Z
2010-08-31, 07:05 AM
...I like this concept. I may steal it.

Greenish
2010-08-31, 07:55 AM
Vicious and crushing literary criticism (not for the faint of heart): It's spelled "snippets". :smallbiggrin:

Lady Moreta
2010-08-31, 09:30 PM
Vicious and crushing literary criticism (not for the faint of heart): It's spelled "snippets". :smallbiggrin:

Ouch! you got me.

At least you didn't crit :smalltongue:

And thank you esrz22 - it helps me get into the head of my character. Silver is my first-ever character, and I somewhat stupidly, made her as different from myself as possible. I love her, but she's awfully hard to roleplay sometimes.

These are partly to record our awesomeness, partly to help me practice writing in first person, and partly to help me get inside my characters head. It really does help. I have another one on the go, but I'm having trouble writing it.

I'm also attempting to write up our entire campaign, except I started in a random spot (because there was an awesome fight that just begged to be imortalised). I won't post that yet, because the start needs more work.

lord pringle
2010-08-31, 09:41 PM
would you mind if I did this? I had this Idea for a while but I haven't started yet.

Lady Moreta
2010-08-31, 10:03 PM
Of course not :smallsmile: the more the merrier.

A question though - how easy is it to tell what's happening/happened in terms of straight D&D? I've written these in a story form, so there's no "I do this" type of thing. For instance, in the first snippet (:smalltongue:), what the succubus actually did was two level drains (or damage, whichever one isn't permanent) on my character. I figured that essentially having knowledge/spells/etc ripped out of your head would probably hurt like heck, so that's how I wrote it. Were you able to figure out that's what happened, or is it too hard to tell?

lord pringle
2010-08-31, 10:15 PM
should I do it on this thread or what?

Lady Moreta
2010-08-31, 10:38 PM
Might as well post them here :smallsmile: Keep it all together, and you never know, we might entice others to start writing as well.

And I've just come up with an idea for another vignette... I realised I haven't done anything (backstory or otherwise) for my other character. Mainly because she was pre-generated for a filler game, and I've only played her twice - heck, I can't even remember what her allignment is... but I should be able to come up with something :smallsmile:

I shall eagerly await your writing, Lord Pringle.

lord pringle
2010-08-31, 11:09 PM
here it is! The story of tanner wolf chapter one:
Don't talk henchman.
((or Brilliant plan, idiot))
“Ok listen. It didn’t work the first four times, WHY would it work now? I said tapping my furry little feet as I glared at the wizard.

“I mean, well sure I killed Chäven, and Dave, oh and Bruce, well that one was a victory. Oh I can’t forget about Kaalehn.” Ilsen tried to explain.

“Blade wouldn’t have liked that Ilsen. He died… In a bad way” I was interrupted.

“Tanner, need I remind you that we had to kill him! Hell you gave him the final cut with your axe! We had to burn his corpse, cover his body in holy water and jab each piece with silver daggers. He was dead when we met him. The man was a vampire for Vecna’s sake!” Ilsen roared

“H-H-H-Half-Vampire, sir” I squeaked fully going into rat form. I always did when I was terrified. I was a powerful rager, but after seeing what Ilsen could do to his own team mates I was terrified. Blade was my only real connection and friend in the group. I was Ilsen’s muscle and the rest off the team were only acquaintances. Blade understood me. He was half-vampire half-elf. I am a wererat. Everyone else thought we were freaks and Bruce hated us. Blade died possessed by his blood lust. I had to kill him myself. He was going to murder us and our reputation.

“Never mind. Once we get a druid, a servant of Vecna, an assassin and a troll we can get that head and gain its true power!” Ilsen beamed.

“But aren’t four deaths enough?” I squeaked.

“Nonsense. How much cash you got Tanner? We need four hundred wands of fireball and bag of holding…” Ilsen muttered.

Lady Moreta
2010-09-01, 12:28 AM
Okay, first reaction: "awww, cute little rat" Yes, I am tired, why do you ask? :smalltongue:

Seriously now, I liked it :smallsmile: only critism I would make is that in this section:



“Ok listen. It didn’t work the first four times, WHY would it work now? I said tapping my furry little feet as I glared at the wizard.
“I mean, well sure I killed Chäven, and Dave, oh and Bruce, well that one was a victory. Oh I can’t forget about Kaalehn.” Ilsen tried to explain.
“Blade wouldn’t have liked that Ilsen. He died… In a bad way” I was interrupted

it's a little hard to tell who's talking. Obviously the first set of speech is Tanner, but I can't really tell if the second line of speech is meant to be him or if it's someone else.

And may I suggest better paragraph formatting? Technically each new line of speech is supposed to be a new line/paragraph break. Looks neater, and makes it easier to tell who's speaking as well.

But any story that ends with the lines:


“Nonsense. How much cash you got Tanner? We need four hundred wands of fireball and bag of holding…” Ilsen muttered.

has got to be good:smallbiggrin:

The Pressman
2010-09-01, 04:45 AM
Notice the title above, if you will. :smallbiggrin:

aberratio ictus
2010-09-01, 06:32 AM
Were you able to figure out that's what happened, or is it too hard to tell?

You made it quite obvious, I think. :smallwink: It was, in fact, the best depiction of level drain I have ever read or heard.

I must say, I really like your style of writing and the characters in your group. I'm looking forward to the next snippet.

lord pringle
2010-09-01, 09:47 AM
Okay, first reaction: "awww, cute little rat" Yes, I am tired, why do you ask? :smalltongue:

everyone felt that way about tanner. except you know bruce.


Seriously now, I liked it :smallsmile: only critism I would make is that in this section:



it's a little hard to tell who's talking. Obviously the first set of speech is Tanner, but I can't really tell if the second line of speech is meant to be him or if it's someone else.

And may I suggest better paragraph formatting? Technically each new line of speech is supposed to be a new line/paragraph break. Looks neater, and makes it easier to tell who's speaking as well.

it worked on word before I copypasted


But any story that ends with the lines:



has got to be good:smallbiggrin:

it was a dumb plan. it wasn't the plan the title was talking about. that plan will be revealed tonight:smallbiggrin:.

FuryOfMetal
2010-09-01, 02:12 PM
This is my preferred method for writing backstories. Instead of writing a timeline of major events and detailing them I just write dialogue in first or third person as it helps me to get in the characters head. I find it easier to understand the character if I create dialogue instead of just detailing some events. Works for me :smallsmile:

Lady Moreta
2010-09-01, 08:35 PM
You made it quite obvious, I think. :smallwink: It was, in fact, the best depiction of level drain I have ever read or heard.

High praise indeed, thanks :smallsmile:


I must say, I really like your style of writing and the characters in your group. I'm looking forward to the next snippet.

Well, thank you :smallsmile: I'm glad it's not as hard to read as it is to write. I'll have to hurry up and do the next bit then. I'm going back in time, the whole campaign started with us in an army being trained up as an elite 'special tasks' force. I'm trying to come up with any reason why my dancer would be there (she's a bard, with ranks in perform dance).


it worked on word before I copypasted

Ahh, blame Word then. It's done similar things to me before as well. I copied/pasted my stuff from another site I'd posted them on, which is probably why I avoided the issue. That and the fact that they're written in Open Office, not Word :smalltongue:


it was a dumb plan. it wasn't the plan the title was talking about. that plan will be revealed tonight:smallbiggrin:.

Yay! More!


This is my preferred method for writing backstories. Instead of writing a timeline of major events and detailing them I just write dialogue in first or third person as it helps me to get in the characters head. I find it easier to understand the character if I create dialogue instead of just detailing some events. Works for me :smallsmile:

I have four pages of backstory for my character, though it's all in a timeline format. I'm thinking of turning it into a story on it's own, though that will have to wait until I get all the other story ideas out of my head...

big teej
2010-09-01, 10:57 PM
I am intrigued...... (dun dun dun)

I found all of the 'sippets' here VERY entertaining to read. I'm tempted to start chronicling my own characters here, particularly my knight and my planeswalking barbarian.....



if they're be space here, and interest, for me to write, I believe I may....

hmmmmm -brainstorming-

lord pringle
2010-09-01, 11:07 PM
to tired to write. going camping tomorrow. going to a con this weekend. next week hope to have lots of Tanner Wolf 15th level wererat barbarian.

Lady Moreta
2010-09-01, 11:20 PM
I am intrigued...... (dun dun dun)

I found all of the 'sippets' here VERY entertaining to read. I'm tempted to start chronicling my own characters here, particularly my knight and my planeswalking barbarian.....

if they're be space here, and interest, for me to write, I believe I may....

hmmmmm -brainstorming-

Thanks :smallsmile:

I remember you mentioning the planeswalking barbarian elsewhere - I'm fascinated by the concept. Please do write.


to tired to write. going camping tomorrow. going to a con this weekend. next week hope to have lots of Tanner Wolf 15th level wererat barbarian.

Completely understand. Tiredness is the reason I haven't finished my current in-progress vignette. Have fun camping and conning! I can't wait to hear more of the wererat barbarian (which is also and awesome concept for a character).

lord pringle
2010-09-01, 11:25 PM
Thanks :smallsmile:

I remember you mentioning the planeswalking barbarian elsewhere - I'm fascinated by the concept. Please do write.



Completely understand. Tiredness is the reason I haven't finished my current in-progress vignette. Have fun camping and conning! I can't wait to hear more of the wererat barbarian (which is also and awesome concept for a character).

Tanner is one of my favorite characters. I miss his thrice dead butt.

big teej
2010-09-01, 11:26 PM
Thanks :smallsmile:

I remember you mentioning the planeswalking barbarian elsewhere - I'm fascinated by the concept. Please do write.



you're welcome

The planeswalker barbarian has become something of a running joke within my gaming group, a character who has taken on a life of his own....

I rolled VERY well, for my first character, but unfortunately, we couldn't get a campaign to keep going, but I was DETERMINED to play this barbarian that I'd worked so hard on.... so he began to hop campaigns..... which meant he was hopping the very threads of existence, after all, he has a place within my world... my friend's world, my OTHER friend's world, my friend's DAD's (first edition) world. and at least 3 solo and/or duo campaigns.....

thus, the Skulltaker walks the multiverse.

thats the out of character explanation at least, I'm working on developing that in character as well, and I beleive my first post will be one of him looking back on his earlier adventures.....

which will also be tomorrow....



PS: I'm glad there's interest -joy- :smallbiggrin: :smallcool:

Lord_Gareth
2010-09-02, 12:33 AM
Oh dear god, I must write something.

Some background first: I got into D&D in 2e, and was seven years old at the time. My first character was a bard named Jade, who would eventually pick up the nickname "Twitchy" and the surname "Manydeaths". He managed to die eighteen times in his adventuring career. I would like to tell the stories. The stories of him getting owned through no fault of his own, really.

May I? Please?

big teej
2010-09-02, 12:37 AM
Oh dear god, I must write something.

Some background first: I got into D&D in 2e, and was seven years old at the time. My first character was a bard named Jade, who would eventually pick up the nickname "Twitchy" and the surname "Manydeaths". He managed to die eighteen times in his adventuring career. I would like to tell the stories. The stories of him getting owned through no fault of his own, really.

May I? Please?

even if ye do not, I must hear these tales of darring don't...


PSA: don't read old english late at night, it will do odd things to how you type.

Lord_Gareth
2010-09-02, 01:20 AM
Chaos Theory
Or: I Know How the Fried Bard Shrieks
The padded clothing under my armor itched like hell, and I was sweating buckets staring out at the room beyond the shattered door frame.

"That looks like a platform on the other side," Mythran, the mage, mentioned by way of pointing out the obvious. I didn't say anything. My master, the paladin Lythan, peered at the rusted and shattered chains that dangled over the boiling mud more than fifty feet down. Only one chain, long and rusted, still stretched the entirety of the room, and geysers of boiling mud blasted it at intervals.

"I think...I think there's a pattern," I hazarded, hoping no one would be terribly offended. I was a bard and - and a squire, damnit! My other ideas had not been received terribly well by anyone but my master, who patiently explained their folly in an environment such as this. Fitting in was proving difficult, to say the least. I reached out and yanked on the chain. Sturdy enough. Surprisingly so, actually. I swung myself upwards and wrapped my legs around the steel.

"I'll check it out," I told my companions. Lythan started to say something, but I lost it in the roar of a geyser blast. Counting the seconds, I crawled my way across the chain.

The room boiled, and sweat ran down my face and into my eyes as I crawled. The noise was deafening and I could feel the heat of the chain through my leather gauntlets. Still, foot by foot, I made my way across and set my feet down on the platform on the other side. It was surprisingly wide, with a large wooden chest backed against a far wall and a stout oaken door riddled with holes set into another. Remembering the words of the mage upon my arrival ("White Plume Mountain is a hell-hole. Everything is trying to kill you. I mean it. The walls, the floors, the chests, the doors, hell, the air is probably trying to do you in. Got me kid?"), I ignored the chest for the time being. Instead, I drew my longsword and strapped a buckler to my left wrist, advancing cautiously towards the door.

When I saw the fine mist pouring out of the door, I knew something was wrong. The vapors coalesced into a tall, pale humanoid that lashed out at me with its fist. I brought my buckler up to block and nearly broke my wrist for the trouble.

"Vampire!" Mythran called out. "Stay calm! Fight defensively!"

I ducked another blow and backpedaled, spitting and cursing. "How else do you expect me to fight?" I shouted back as I lashed out clumsily with my weapon. It didn't matter. The creature took the blow and laughed.

"Use your spells," my master called out in a calm, clear voice. "Blast it into the muck!"

I parried a crushing hook with my sword and winced as I heard the metal snap in half. I spat out a group of syllables that burned my tongue on the way out and twin bolts of magical force slammed into the undead creature's chest, sending it staggering backwards, hissing in anger.

"Great job," Mythran yelled helpfully, "You made him mad!"

I spat the spell out again as the vampire charged, barely managing to throw myself out of the way as it nearly bowled me over. "Push him into the muck!" Lythan yelled out in the clear, strong voice of command. But how?

Struck by inspiration, I dug into a pouch at my belt, spilling spell components all over the floor as I triumphantly seized a grasshopper in my left hand. Thrusting it into my mouth, I chanted an incantation around it and bit down on the dried insect.

For all future reference, raw dried grasshopper tastes absolutely foul when kept for months in a spell component pouch.

Feeling the magic tensing in my legs, I crouched and jumped at the vampire as it charged me, barreling into it at incredible speeds. I scrambled as my feet hit the floor again, desperately trying to avoid pitching forward into the muck, and stopped four feet short as the undead thing hit the bottom and combusted.

The chest, upon investigation, held a replacement sword bearing Dwarven runes along with several hundred gold pieces. Thus laden, I began climbing across the chain to the triumphant praise of my companions.

A brief, boiling roar was all the warning I got before the geyser hit me, firing out of turn. Perhaps the vampire disturbed the muck when he hit the bottom. I died. Instantly.

It would be some weeks before I was resurrected. The gold paid for the reconstitution of my body, but on the plus side, I got to keep the sword.

"Told you," Mythran said as he pulled me to my feet. "Come on, Twitchy. We're going back."

Lady Moreta
2010-09-02, 02:20 AM
thus, the Skulltaker walks the multiverse.

PS: I'm glad there's interest -joy- :smallbiggrin: :smallcool:

That sounds - legendary :smallbiggrin:


even if ye do not, I must hear these tales of darring don't...

PSA: don't read old english late at night, it will do odd things to how you type.

Nah, old english should always be read. If only for the satisfaction of realising the swirly thing that looks like an 's' is actually an 'f'. Figured that one out in Year 13 History.


Chaos Theory
Or: I Know How the Fried Bard Shrieks

That. Was bloody brilliant! :smallbiggrin: Well done, you have made me laugh like an idiot at work. Loved it!

Definite highlights:


I ducked another blow and backpedaled, spitting and cursing. "How else do you expect me to fight?" I shouted back as I lashed out clumsily with my weapon. It didn't matter. The creature took the blow and laughed.

"Great job," Mythran yelled helpfully, "You made him mad!"

For all future reference, raw dried grasshopper tastes absolutely foul when kept for months in a spell component pouch.

A brief, boiling roar was all the warning I got before the geyser hit me, firing out of turn. Perhaps the vampire disturbed the muck when he hit the bottom. I died. Instantly.


What a tragic, ignominious end to someone who managed to fight off a vampire single handedly. I wouldn't want to pit my bard against something like that. I love seeing a different take on a bard as well. My Silver is - well, she's a bit more of a hardass, and not one to take any crap. As Tanc once said "The things she can say with a straight face are disturbing, considering her usual temperament." She's not a nice person :smallbiggrin:

Lord_Gareth
2010-09-02, 02:34 AM
Alas, poor Twitchy never actually died a single death in combat, though he rolled some impressive fumbles on the "Good hits, bad misses" chart (this was back in 2e, remember), including his one sole Crowning Moment of Awesome. Which involved him plunging a +3 longsword into his own chest.

Next up:


Spider Bard
Or: Paranoia is Your Only Friend

(For all future reference, I got used as trap bait. A lot).

Lady Moreta
2010-09-02, 02:40 AM
Oh my word. And then can you tell the story of the longsword. Please? :smile:

Lord_Gareth
2010-09-02, 03:48 AM
Spider Bard
Or: Paranoia is Your Only Friend

White Plume Mountain is, for all future reference, a living hell.

Living hells bear little resemblance to your standard eternal-damnation-for-hocking-a-gold-piece hells that paladins are always talking about. Living hells are fear, and stench, and sweat, and no baths for hundreds of miles. Living hells are water up to your knees hiding green slimes and beholder-kin and traps of all kinds. Living hells are those things that make you wake up, bolt upright, because you could have sworn that sound was an incantation when it was actually the damn mage pissing into a stone jug and singing about it.

The mountain had always been there, but the dungeon complex was, as Mythran had explained to me, a sort of hero trap. Its original builder, Keraptis, used the lure of legendary artifacts to draw heroes and cut-throats from all across Oerth so that he could suck their souls out and use them to modify his body further towards godhood. Keraptis had long since been killed no less than four kinds of dead, but whoever had taken over the complex had a serious thing for his experiments, so we'd been sent in to deal with the problem. The thought had begun to dawn on me that walking right into the trap was not the most solid plan we could have devised.

The rotting wooden doors had given way to solid steel portals that Mythran informed me were designed to stop the total flooding of the dungeon from the upwelling of boiling water beneath. One such door stood in front of us, and I listened at it.

"There's some kind of churning, sloshing sound on the other side," I informed my companions, rubbing the cold out of one pointed ear.

"Well, open it," Mythran told me. I put my gloved hand on the knob and opened it inward. There was a small stone platform to stand on, and the rest of the room was filled with a whirlpool of astounding violence and speed. Two more platforms allowed anyone who could actually manage to get there to stand before two more doors.

"Jade," Lythan said slowly, "what did you say those boots of yours did again?"

"They let me walk on walls," I answered. I didn't wait for the order to explore the other two rooms; one foot was placed against the wall, followed by the other, and then I was horizontal. Walking along the walls was easy enough. Vertigo had never bothered me much.

Opening the first door, I found a bare room containing a single chest. I drew my replacement longsword and strapped on my battered buckler.

"What is it?" Mythran asked, straining to see in vain.

"Look, either it's going to try to kill me horribly or it isn't. I think you're enjoying this too much."

"You are enjoying this a little too much," Lythan agreed as I walked into the room. I was expecting a trap. I wasn't expecting the chest to burst into a mass of pseudopod and knock me out of the room. Only a hasty incantation from Mythran saved me; I landed on a disk of solid green force, rather than in the whirlpool. The door to the false chest's room slammed shut.

"Mimic," the mage said sagely. "Nasty little bastards. Try the other door."

The other door opened on well-oiled hinges and I looked in to see the two most beautiful elf maidens I'd ever laid eyes on, waist deep in the water with absolutely no clothing on. Vaguely, I felt the need to leave the door open, but my hand shut it behind me.

"Bathe with us?" one of them, a maid with dark hair, pleaded.

"I can't," I had enough presence of mind to plead. "I need to find a trident. The sphinx said it was nearby."

The other maid, this one with hair as yellow as gold, held up an ornate coral trident. Wave. One of the three artifacts we'd come looking for.

"Come and get it," she invited, and I kicked off my boots and waded into the pool, armor and all. Immediately, the two maidens leapt upon me and tried to hold me under, but one of my hands had already grabbed the trident.

The power shock was immense. I did not worship the god who laid claim to the trident. But it blasted the kelpies off of me, and I was able to keep a grip on the weapon long enough to run out of the water and through the door.

I really should have been paying attention. I put one foot on the wall, slipped, and fell into the whirlpool. The last thing I saw was Lythan grabbing a rope before my skull dashed against a rock at the bottom.

It was more than two weeks before I awoke once more, my soul shoved forcibly back into its mortal coil.

"That's two, Twitchy. Kelpies? Really? C'mon. And try not to make this a habit, hey? You're expensive."

Lady Moreta
2010-09-02, 06:45 AM
Notice the title above, if you will. :smallbiggrin:

I am blind. It's taken me all day to realise what you did.

Happy now? :smallyuk:



Spider Bard
Or: Paranoia is Your Only Friend

Living hells are those things that make you wake up, bolt upright, because you could have sworn that sound was an incantation when it was actually the damn mage pissing into a stone jug and singing about it.

I really should have been paying attention. I put one foot on the wall, slipped, and fell into the whirlpool. The last thing I saw was Lythan grabbing a rope before my skull dashed against a rock at the bottom.

It was more than two weeks before I awoke once more, my soul shoved forcibly back into its mortal coil.

"That's two, Twitchy. Kelpies? Really? C'mon. And try not to make this a habit, hey? You're expensive."

Heehee, oh dear... poor poor Jade. You're really very good at this :smallbiggrin:

big teej
2010-09-03, 11:16 PM
well, after much procrastination and agonizin over my prose, I've decided to start this off with the background I typed for Sohn of the Riverheart. a bard that resides both in a PBP on these forums, and in an on and off campaign with the group I left behind for college.... I haven't looked at this since I pulled it up for my DM at the session.... I'm hoping its not to terrible :smallredface:

as for context, I was asked to write "what would Sohn do on a day off?" with the stipulation that I was writing from the perspective that "my day off" was a day off from an academy or bardic school of some sort, and given a free day before being sent on an adventure....

so without further adu....ado...aduie? crap....

anyways
here's my first 'snippet'
A day in the life of Sohn of the Riverheart

Its Sohn’s day off, no class, no chores, no obligations, he is free to follow his muse…. Unfortunately, his muse has not yet managed to wake him up. He snores heavily sprawled upon his bed. The sun streams through the shutters on his window, eventually getting in his eyes and waking him up. It’s late in the day (for Sohn at least, he typically rises before the sun, but knowing he had today off, he stayed out carousing with friends and generally making a nuisance of himself to the barmaids), Sohn rolls out of bed and pulls his clothes on, his black pants with the silver trim, a black shirt, and his black and silver cape, and (of course) his “ugly” hat (not so much ‘ugly’ more ‘had the hell beaten out of it’) still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he leaves his room and heads toward… he stops, and thinks to himself “just what am I going to do today?”… He summons his harmonica and puts it away in one of his pockets and carries on towards one of the natural areas of the ‘academy’. Sohn wanted to think, even though it often made him much more somber than he liked…. After finding ‘his’ rock and perching himself upon it, he sat there for several hours, occasionally playing on his harmonica or simply singing… for a bard, he was very private about his performances, and only 3 or 4 people had ever done more than overhear him either through his walls or while out and about while he was on his rock.

After sitting upon his rock for several hours Sohn hops down from it and sets off towards the cafeteria. He makes the decision to avoid the stables today, even though he loves to ride, because this is his day off and he doesn’t want to be saddle sore tomorrow. After breakfast, Sohn wanders the academy aimlessly making conversation with anyone he encounters before he finds himself in the library. He scans the book cases before finally settling on an epic tale of the adventures of –name of Roche’s adventuring group- he stayed in the library for hours, well past when his stomach told him it was time for lunch. But eventually he listened to it and went on towards the cafeteria, where he ate with his friends and settled into his normal habit of extracting every possible scrap of information out of his surroundings…. Sohn liked to know things… He put in more hours in the library than the book keepers, loremasters, and librarians sometimes. He could easily rattle off more about the heavens and the hells and the wonders of the world than any of his classmates, (his teachers still had him beat though) he skipped evening worship, not having dedicated himself to any god or pantheon. And went on to meet with his good friend Crystal out near his rock. Crystal was a (relatively young) elf girl, at 46, they often spoke and played music together Crystal was quite adept with the flute and the violin, but she wasn’t a minstrel, she was instead an archer in training. After spending most of the rest of the day hanging out with crystal at the rock, they both headed back for the evening meal. Knowing Sohn had a big day in the morning, Crystal didn’t keep him out late after dinner, and sent him promptly off to bed.

Sohn slept fitfully for most of the night, but had drifted off into a deep slumber by morning.

-The following is written assuming a beginning much like the spurs quest, if this was an erroneous assumption, disregard it-

Sohn rose with the sun this day, as was his custom. He was up and half way through his stretching before the trumpets woke the campus. After finishing stretching out his rather thickset frame, he dressed himself in a slightly more formal and prepared manner than yesterday.

He put on his black pants with silver piping again, as well as the same shirt from the day before, as well as the cape. However, on this day, he also buckled on a black leather belt with a stylized skull buckle. He hefted his Morningstar from its place by his bed and checked its weight and balance, as was his habit every time he picked up his unbardly brutal weapon, finding nothing amiss with its feel; he looped it onto his belt, followed by his sap, which he smacked into his palm before putting it away. Having put away his two favored weapons, he wrapped his black scarf around his neck in such a manner that part of it could easily be pulled up over the bottom half of his face, into his pack (messenger bag) went his hell-beaten hat, and upon his head he placed a black broad-brimmed hat, with a silver band about the crown, and a set of lock picks hidden within it.

He examined himself in his mirror to make sure everything was as it should be.

His hat cast a shadow over the top half of his face when the sun shone on him, its silver band glinting brightly. All is as it should be

His shirt hung loosely about his frame, drawn tight across his left shoulder and right hip by the strap of his satchel. His bag hung just behind his hip, resting snugly. All is as it should be.

His pants also fit loosely, hiding the shape of his legs, just as his shirt hid the shape of his body, and they were comfortable and looked damn good. His belt was also situated perfectly and the buckle polished to a shine. All is as it should be.

His cape/cloak was flung back over his shoulders for now but could easily enfold his whole frame. It was held across his chest with a silver clasp with the emblem of a long hafted hammer wrapped in a spiked chain. His scarf was situated in such a manner as to cover his neck and rest upon his shoulders; he could easily pull up one of the folds to cover the bottom of his face. All is as it should be.

At his belt hung his Morningstar, it was a black hafted weapon, the handle was wrapped in black leather over silver wire, the business end of the weapon was a spiked ball the size of two clenched fists. It glinted dully in the light, brutal and deadly. All is as it should be.

Even though it couldn’t be seen in the mirror, he knew his sap lay secured within his clothing, a black strip of leather that grew larger at one end, where it encased a pouch filled with lead weight. The weapon had felled many a tavern brawler during his stay in the academy. All is as it should be.

His boots were heavy and thick, made of tough leather; they fit snuggly and did not slip about his feet. All is as it should be.

Within his satchel, his favorite (and unfortunately, most abused) hat lay within, it was a deep dark green, and floppy, and no longer maintained its original shape, however it DID hold its current shape rather well, and he wore it often during his travels. It was undecorated, unlike the hat he wore now, though similar in size and shape. The hat within his satchel was utterly unadorned, except for two buttons, one on either side, where the brim of the hat could be pinned up. All is as it should be

Steeling him for the trials the day would surely bring, he turned to the window, knelt, and mouthed a quick prayer to most of the good deities, he then stood, turned and left his room, and preceded to the courtyard.

All is as it should be...

I'm going to go duck and cover now and be insecure about my writing :smallbiggrin::smallredface::smallredface:

Lady Moreta
2010-09-04, 04:24 AM
so without further adu....ado...aduie? crap....

Ado - fuss, bother, busyness
Adieu - French word, means 'goodbye'
:smallsmile:


anyways
here's my first 'snippet'

I'm going to go duck and cover now and be insecure about my writing :smallbiggrin::smallredface::smallredface:

Don't be, it was good :smallsmile: Much of the criticism I would offer I think stems from the fact that it was something you wrote up for your DM, so it doesn't read much like a story. The background I have written for Silver reads in much the same way.

Main criticism is that you haven't used proper sentences. Write full sentences and use fullstops, instead of ellipses, it'll flow better. Generally speaking, you should always use full sentences unless it's needed for dramatic or another effect. I find that using half sentences and the like works best when writing in first person, because people don't think in full sentences. At least, I don't. (and see there, I've just proved my point "At least, I don't" isn't a full sentence, technically it should have been attached to the previous sentence with a semi-colon. But I don't think in sentences so I didn't write in it)

As an example from what you've written:


He could easily rattle off more about the heavens and the hells and the wonders of the world than any of his classmates, (his teachers still had him beat though) he skipped evening worship, not having dedicated himself to any god or pantheon. And went on to meet with his good friend Crystal out near his rock.

As near as I can tell, the sentence about rattling off more than anyone except his teachers is one sentence. Then the next bit is describing how he skipped evening worship and went off with Crystal. Except you've run it all together into one sentence, and started the next sentence with 'And'. I break this rule all the time, but one should never start a sentence with 'and'. Once again, I excuse it in first-person writing, because once again, I don't know anyone who thinks in full sentences. What yours should have read like is:

He could easily rattle off more about the heavens and the hells and the wonders of the world than any of his classmates, (his teachers still had him beat though). He skipped evening worship; not having dedicated himself to any god or pantheon and went on to meet with his good friend Crystal out near his rock.

Please don't feel like I'm nitpicking. I really enjoyed what you wrote, and as I said, I suspect much of this is because it's brief background get-into-your-character's-head writing for your DM. That makes you write differently. I think the second half was definitely better, your descriptive writing is good. I liked the 'All was as it should be' part. I like repetition like that :smallsmile: I probably would have combined a few of the paragraphs so there weren't as many 'all was as it should be's' but that's really entirely up to the discretion of the author, so don't take anything from it if you don't want to. Entirely my personal preference, and an knowledge that I'm really bad at doing that all the time so I tend to be fairly conscious of it.

And now that I'm rambled on I'll actually post my latest bit. Finally got it finished.


Damn Charis
or How I Joined The Army
It is a camp. A camp full of soldiers. And here I am, standing in front of one, about to take a shot at him – because he told me to. How on earth did I end up like this?
__________________________________________________ _____________

I was walking back from the mess tent when I heard Charis mention my name. That was my first clue. I’d been practicing with the career soldiers – using them as guinea pigs really. Could I make this one forget about his mate? Could I make that one forget about his meal? Could I cast a spell on one without them noticing? (The answer to that was ‘no’, but he forgave me as soon as I smiled at him.) It was a rather satisfying feeling, I’ll admit. To know that, should I so desire it, I could have all these grown men falling over themselves to help me, do something for me, be near me. It added a lift to my lips and a sway to my hips. I had never really regretted taking up with Charis’ group, but I had been vehemently against her decision to attach us to this camp full of soldiers. Now perhaps, I was starting to change my mind. Until I heard her mention my name.

“You want Silver for what?” Charis sounded surprised, amused, and perhaps a little scornful. The voice that responded was deeper and masculine. It was too quiet for me to hear what was being said. Well, there was only one solution to that. Get closer.

I moved carefully, as quietly as I could towards the tent Charis used as her headquarters. Two steps, and then three, and then – what was?

“Silver!” Charis was suddenly right in front of me, beaming. I don’t trust Charis, I travel with the band for safety’s sake. She doesn’t trust me either, but she enjoys the money I bring in. But how had she heard-? I took a step towards her as she swept back the tent entrance and immediately realised what I’d forgotten.

My bells. The tiny silver bells I wear when I dance. The bells I’d been wearing earlier. I had forgotten to take them off before attempting to sneak up on Charis. And the army wanted me? I sighed.

“Yes Charis? What is it?”

She ushered me into the tent, still beaming. Beneath that though, I saw the brittle smile she wore when she was anticipating a fight. It’s not my fault half her crew would rather watch me dance than listen to her. Is it? Surely not.

Within the tent was a man I had seen around the camp. Big and solid, wearing armour, a sergeant or something similar I thought. His face was scarred, and he carried himself with the manner and bearing of a career solider, after three months trailing after this sorry lot, I had learned to tell the difference. He looked – loyal. The type who would lead from the front and get himself killed in the first five minutes. I had to be careful not to roll my eyes, this army was paying my wages after all, and I do like to eat.

“This is Sergeant Rubin” Charis began, “he has been –what was it you said you were doing Sergeant?” Charis turned to him, eyebrows raised in question. Lying little witch. She knew perfectly well what the man was talking about, knew I wouldn’t like it, but also knew I couldn’t say anything or give away the fact I’d been listening. More importantly, that I’d been sneaking around intending to listen further. He cleared his throat and turned so he could face both of us.

“The Empress has charged me with the creation of a new squad” he began. “There have been – rumours, of civil unrest that the army simply is not suited to. I will be training and commanding a special squad, tasked with handling situations the army cannot.”

I raised my eyebrow at him, the question had to be asked, even if I was sure I knew the answer.

“And this has what exactly to do with me?”

“We need a skilled diplomat and negotiator” Rubin replied. “One who can also fight” he gestured to the whip hanging from my belt.

“I can negotiate” I admitted, I can be diplomatic too, if I have to. I prefer a more subtle method. Much better if you can make them think it was their idea. “I’m not much of a fighter though” it was the truth, even though it pained me to admit it. Sure, I carried a longbow, what elf doesn’t? The simple truth – I’m not strong enough to use it effectively. I had heard stories of people embedding weapons in their clothing, blades hidden in armbands, knives sewn into the fabric of a cloak. One day I’d find something like that, with my looks, I could get close enough that they’d never see it coming.

“Good” Rubin said, turning away as if that settled everything. Like hell it did!

“Excuse me” I began, moving quickly to stand in his way. I reached one hand and rested it lightly on his arm, careful not to let him see how much any contact bothered me. “I was under the impression that you had come to ask” I kept my voice calm and measured, with just a hint of coyness. “I’m really not a very good fighter.”

I know, the ‘helpless female’ act is older than dirt. It was an old ploy, and perhaps a bit cliched, but only because it works. He turned to look at me, dark eyes grave and serious, looking at me up and down. I did my best to look small, and at only 4’7” it wasn’t hard.

I had him. I knew it. I could see it in his eyes.

“Sergeant, let me talk to her” Charis. I could have killed her.

“If you’re sure” he replied doubtfully. “I do not want anybody forced.” Yeah right.

“Of course not” Charis was oily as well, oil. Damn her. “My troupe looks at the world in a different way Sergeant. I’m sure I can explain the situation to Silver in a way that she’ll understand.”

I’m sure she could. I’m also sure it would involve big sticks. Or shorter ones with pointy bits at the end. Damn her.

But no, he was walking out of the tent, Charis right beside him, murmuring reassurances about how I was sure to come around once she’d had a chance to explain things to her. Well, I had a chance too, and I wasn’t going to waste it. My longbow was with the rest of my gear in my tent, but I had my whip. I had it out and ready by the time Charis had let the tent flap fall and turned to face me.

“I won’t do it” I said before she could get a word in. I was good, and I knew it; but. But, it was entirely possible that Charis was better. I wasn’t going to take any chances. She chuckled. Chuckled?! What sort of person chuckles when faced with an angry elf? I might be small, but I know exactly how terrifying I can be when I need to.

“You’re quick” she told me, applauding with slow, steady claps. It was a resonate sound, the type of sharp staccato I used to get the beat when I danced without music. It made me sweat. Faster than I had thought possible, she was in front of my face, towering over me.

“What you don’t understand, however, is that Rubin has offered to – compensate me for taking away one of my best earners. It’s quite a tidy sum” she admired neatly trimmed and buffed nails, before raising hate-filled eyes to mine. In that instant I knew that I had no chance. I was one of Charis’ best earners, if not the best, and she had never been happy about it. It appeared that she’d finally decided to do something about it.

I might not have the lungs of a singer, but I have the lungs of a dancer. I drew breath to scream, only to find it choked off before it could begin. A dagger at the point of your throat will do that. Small sticks with pointy bits. I knew it.

“Don’t scream Silver. And don’t think about going with Rubin and then telling him the truth either. I’ll have Archer watching you, and you know he never misses.”

Damn her. I knew Archer, and I knew Charis was right. He never missed.

I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me afraid. Bad enough that she knew she’d won. I stepped away from the dagger and walked out of the tent without looking back. A few words with Rubin had him convinced of my change of heart.

And as I walked away with him, I saw, up in a nearby tree, Archer sitting watching waiting, arrow nocked on the string. Damn her.
__________________________________________________ ______________

And now I’m standing here, in front of Rubin, trying not to roll my eyes as he requests, ever-so-politely, that I try and hit him with my whip. He seems to have been rather successful in his quest – in numbers at any rate. A halfling girl, a human woman bearing emblems of Perha, a gnome with a wolf of all things, a half-orc who looks about as intelligent as my bow. And the last two. An elf; he’s young, and if he comes anywhere near me, he’s stupid as well. And a man; he’s massive. I have never felt so small.

Damn Charis.

freebiewitz
2010-09-04, 05:20 AM
Heres a few.

Odd one out.
(About a CG Pirate in a party of LN, CE and LE characters)

It was getting bright, at the end of the tunnel there was what we assumed to be the prize. The artifact that Dayora wanted to destroy, she told us that only she could do it. Beasts and monsters had stood in our way but now me and my riotous allies near the goal.

"Hey Will, what do ya think the artifact is?"
"Hmm.... something powerful obviously." Said the bearded mage.
"Maaaan I hope the big boss man uses it against us I meen that would be FUN!"
"Rered, remember what we said about fights?" Asked the paladin.
"....If I say yes will you keep talking?"
"RERED! Please, we need the element of surprise!"

As we near the the door William tells us to stand back, he then turns into a black dragon, not sure why he would do that. Copper is much better color but whatever, he's the smart guy he knows what he's doing. The door melts away with his corrosive breath, we all storm in to find....

A blue orb.

"YES YES I KNEW IT!" Yells William who at this point is human once more.
Touching it his eyes widen and he flees.
"What's wrong with him?" I ask as I touch the blue orb.
"WHO DISTURBS MY SLUMBER!" Suddenly a GIANT BLUE DRAGON pops up in front of me, it's breathing lightning and has a aura of impossible power!
"Oh I'm Rered Naw, CAPTAIN of the S.S.Silver" The dragon was kinda surprised and I don't blame it I mean I am Famous, to meet some one like me has got to be a shock right?

Then everything went dark.

William and the orb.
(William is also a warlock, LE.)

The idiot was easy to lie to, easy to manipulate but his power. It was disturbing. Rered was a strange case, was clearly a fighter yet he had the blessing of Kord. Immune to poisons and completely fearless in every sense of the word the boy was a enigma. If it weren't for the fact that Rered was a complete idiot then he would be a threat.

For the time being Rered was useful, he was the face of the group, a charismatic power house with blessings from his god which he was IGNORANT ABOUT! How does one gain power without even knowing about it! It reminded him of the time that Rered was given a wish but being the idiot he was he didn't hear. Months later in the desert he had accidentally used his wish.

"I wish you would leave me alone you stupid camel."

The camel was never seen again.

But now, now was when Rered would be most useful, if he completed this task then I would have no use for him any longer! I could dispose of him! The blue orb, so close! The blue dragon orb! It's power finally mine! THESE IDIOTS COULD BURN IN HELL! Even Rober the death knight could go suck it! I no longer have to be content with these IDIOTS!

"WHO DISTURBS M-" I was too afraid, as I touched the orb I felt only the urge to flee, it was too powerful it was too... why am I running? As I turn around I see that no one had followed me and THAT IDIOT was moving to touch the orb. Let him, he was a chaotic good soul, the orb was lawful evil, he would be utterly destroyed.

But then the unthinkable happened. Rered changed, he was now blue, he was now more draconian.

"Hey guys, I just beat this dragon in a battle of wills so what's going on? All the mind play got me thirsty, I'm gonna go to a bar." Then he teleported.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

Lady Moreta
2010-09-04, 05:40 AM
Heehee, oh dear hahaha :smallsmile:

I read the first one and was going to comment on how it hadn't ended well. Then I read William's point of view. I'm not sure whether to feel sorry for him or not. :smallbiggrin:

big teej
2010-09-04, 11:28 PM
Ado - fuss, bother, busyness
Adieu - French word, means 'goodbye'
:smallsmile:



-sigh- thankyou... I hate it when that happens =P happened with violtale violatile....-BAD WORDS-
I digress...:smallredface:

spelling is not my thing...





Main criticism is that you haven't used proper sentences. Write full sentences and use fullstops, instead of ellipses, it'll flow better. Generally speaking, you should always use full sentences unless it's needed for dramatic or another effect. I find that using half sentences and the like works best when writing in first person, because people don't think in full sentences. At least, I don't. (and see there, I've just proved my point "At least, I don't" isn't a full sentence, technically it should have been attached to the previous sentence with a semi-colon. But I don't think in sentences so I didn't write in it)


it was indeed, I cranked this out because he wanted a quick explanation of 'a day in the life' and given that this is a friend of mine, I didn't feel the need to write in an excessivly formal or edited manner, my future snippets (mostly drawing on my dwarven knight and my barbarian) will be much more thoroughly proof read.





Please don't feel like I'm nitpicking. I really enjoyed what you wrote, and as I said, I suspect much of this is because it's brief background get-into-your-character's-head writing for your DM. That makes you write differently. I think the second half was definitely better, your descriptive writing is good. I liked the 'All was as it should be' part. I like repetition like that :smallsmile: I probably would have combined a few of the paragraphs so there weren't as many 'all was as it should be's' but that's really entirely up to the discretion of the author, so don't take anything from it if you don't want to. Entirely my personal preference, and an knowledge that I'm really bad at doing that all the time so I tend to be fairly conscious of it.


by all means, nitpick away (just gently!) it helps me improve.

as for the excessive amounts of paragraphs.... thats my fault XD the way my mind works, whenever I have to describe something/somebody I build it in parts, so I described each part of Sohn's outfit, much as one would do in a mirror before you went out for the day.


that said, your criticism is appreciated and (hopefully) applied :smallbiggrin:


until next time, where I shall type up a snippet from the perspective of Roche Smoulderbeard, Dwarven Knight of -censor block-
can't say what/who he represents, its an ingame and incharacter secret, and I don't know if any of my group members troll the forums

the snippet shall be 'The Death of Kelvar"

until next time!

freebiewitz
2010-09-05, 06:30 AM
And now for the final bit! Do you remember Dayora? If not then read it from Rered's point of view first.

Just as planned....
(From the orbs point of view)

It has been so long, too long. Ever since the champion of Bahumat had trapped me in here I've done nothing but think. My power does not grow but my hate does. I am ever patient, ever ready to strike. Whatever comes my way I shall enslave but they need to be strong enough with a will of Iron able to contain my power. That is when I am set free.

I sense something, I am being moved. To bad whoever is moving me isn't using their bare hands. Warmth, something soft am I on a pillow? Some sort of pedastool perhaps? The light! GLORIOUS LIGHT! Some one has made contact with me! I have no use for weak hearted fools, let us see if they are brave enough to withstand my greatness!

"WHO DISTURBS MY SLUMBER!?" A rhetorical question but a question non the less. The dark figure before me doesn't stir, good some one strong but something is terribly wrong. This person is as strong as me perhaps even stronger. Their will is unbreakable I feel threatened, something is terribly wrong.

A green dragon? THIS IS WHAT STANDS BEFORE ME???
"Greetings." Calls the green one. "I am Dayora and I come with a proposal."
I nod then listen, what ever is going on I deem it interesting enough to give my full attention.
"I have sent a group of foolish adventurers your way, one of which is the perfect vessel for you, when the chance arises take his body and come to me. Together with you age old wisdom and my power we can rule this world together."

"Dayora?" I wonder smirking at the name. "Very well, in return for giving me a new body I shall help you. Remember I serve no one we are but allies." Her nod means that she had accepted the deal. It would be a glorious piece of freedom, not only would I have my body once more but I would be a ruler!

Darkness once more over comes me as my future ally leaves, I calculate and make plans for eventual back stabs. After all why share power when you can have it all? Light, murky light some one evil, some one like me but significantly weaker. A warlock? Hmm a suitable vessel I suppose. Time for the test.

"WHO DISTURBS M-" Before I could even finish darkness over comes me once more. The man didn't even last through the entire sentence before he fled! BAH! USELESS! But soon after light, this light was different. Constantly dancing, hard to see yet so very bright and pure. BAH it was like the light of Kord but everyone who touched the orb should be dealt the test.

"WHO DISTURBS MY SLUMBER?" I roar, the man in front of me a sort of pirate just smiles. Is he excited?
"Oh I'm Rered Naw, CAPTAIN of the S.S.Silver" He was not scared? Surprising, but what of his will power? Throwing my mind against his I find that he is indeed strong, that his power transcends even himself. But it is as if he is unaware of the power he wields. Though hard I manage to trap his soul within the orb, his body now mine.

I now have his memories, the idiot actually considered the warlock to be a good person, a champion of justice!? HA! Coincidentally the warlock was looking right at me now. What would be the best way to torment him? Scanning through Rered's memories I soon found it.

"Hey guys, I just beat this dragon in a battle of wills so what's going on? All the mind play got me thirsty, I'm gonna go to a bar." Then I teleported to Dayora, there she sat in a human form a female. "So which country are we going to conquer first?" I ask as I arrive.

------

Meanwhile in the orb.
".......... This is boring..........." Echoed a voice in the dark.


Post game notes.
This is just a alternate history of what would have happened if Rered failed his will save. What actually happened? He got the orb, went half insane, summoned an army of chaotic good creatures to protect him. Turned his ship into something equivalent to a warforged Titan and then because he couldn't find Dayora he gave the Orb to another NPC named Lao who was a TN half blue dragon sorcerer who then (Using gloves) picked the orb up and put it away to study (Eventually he destroyed it.)

Rered by the way is also my avatar. The boat was a folding boat, the forth command word turned it into a giant wooden robot XD William has been enraged ever since. The campaign has ended and Rered never found out that William or half the party was evil. Kord thought it was funny since he annoyed the hell out of the evil people in the group and he liked Rered since he technically kicked ass, liked to drink, had a strong sense of good, liked to fight and was too dumb too be corrupted. (He has a high int but a 7 for his Wisdom XD) Basically he could identify and tell you what snow is made off. Then wander off and lick a iron pole in the snow..

Basically Rered was the result of me thinking 'Why is Charisma a dump stat? Hmm.. Lets try wisdom.'

Lady Moreta
2010-09-06, 09:02 PM
Teehee, loved it! :smallsmile:

Very funny. I liked the orb's point of view.

Lord_Gareth
2010-09-07, 01:33 AM
Ladies Love Scars
Or: Good Hits, Epic Misses

Funny as it may sound, I don't hate drow. Oh, I know the stories and everything, but it's not exactly as though it's their fault at this point. They're raised to skin High Elf children for boot leather. I haven't mentioned this viewpoint to my master, who seems to hate them with an intensity that borders on actual glee, but I told Mythran about it.

"Mature viewpoint, kid," was his reply. "Totally wrong in every way, of course. But mature."

Lythan had jumped at the opportunity to volunteer for this mission - a rescue, of sorts. Someone - as it turns out, the drow - had been kidnapping entire border towns for months, but when St. Cuthbert's High Deacon's daughter showed up on the list, someone decided to care enough to send an experienced team of mercenaries after them. The hunt had taken weeks, and brought us here - a vast and open cavern filled with the sounds of open combat and ritual sacrifice. Sliced flesh makes a sound like crisp, wet melon, and we could hear the knifes slashing through innocent throats and the screams of the soon-to-die even over the clash of steel on adamantine.

Mythran was involved in some kind of magical contest with a pair of drow twins that were dressed...well. Harlots dress better. In fact, harlots practically look like St. Cuthbert's maiden aunt next to drow. I honestly think the mage's greatest problem was keeping his eyes off of their chests as he incanted.

Lythan, in the meantime, was holding the doorway against a growing tide of drow, trusting in his broad kite shield to ward off their crossbow bolts. I could hear him singing hymns to the Saint with every blow, the sound of his blade cleaving through drow plate like bells at the most violent church in the world.

I was only barely able to pay attention to either of them; the high priestess had stepped away from the altar to deal with us herself, and I was given the job of delaying her while Mythran's familiar spoiled the blood sacrifice. She fought with a wicked morningstar and a savage zeal that I was having difficulty matching. Parry after desperate parry, I fended off her weapon and lashed out with my own, skipping the dwarf-forged steel off of her adamantine plates. The fact that I was wearing mithral chain mail was of little comfort to me - bludgeoning weapons simply transmitted the force through and broke bone to the tune of adding insult to injury.

Our weapons met, sparks spraying wildly, and I thrust my shield hand into her face and screamed my fury out in an incantation. I knew the spell itself - a spray of color - would do nothing. I didn't care about the spell. I wanted the light.

The priestess reeled back, clutching her useless eyes, as I bellowed out the words to a knock spell I'd been saving. As the end of the incantation ("Let all your bindings fall!") echoed over the battlefield, every last scrap of armor, clothing, chain, or rope came loose and undone, leaving drow and surface humanoids alike completely nude.

"Lloth will taste your blood, half-breed!" the priestess shrieked. I was well past rational thought at that point.

And I hated being called half-breed.

I punched forward with my buckler, catching her in the face and knocking her exposed body to the floor. Stepping over my own armor and equipment, I raised my longsword high - and plunged it, hilt-deep, into my chest. It hurt and burned in my lung, but I stepped forward and planted a boot on the drow's chest, pinning her to the floor as I slowly drew the blade out.

As she struggled and writhed, I managed to spit out, "Send her a taste when you tell her how you failed."

I rammed my longsword through her mouth, and the struggling stopped.

Later, after much healing potions had been drunk and the hostages rescued, Mythran asked me why I did it.

"Ladies love scars?"

Lady Moreta
2010-09-07, 01:49 AM
Well. It makes for a fantastic story, but why did you do it?

Very well written, as always :smallsmile: thoroughly enjoyed the idea of having to make a concentration check against perving :smallbiggrin:

I would write something... I have a couple of ideas to immortalise my other character. But right now I'm thinking it's nap time again.

Lord_Gareth
2010-09-07, 01:50 AM
I rolled a fumble and a critical. The fumble ended up being critical hit: self, which ended up being chest wounds - death in 4d6 minutes. The critical...well, you saw the critical :p

freebiewitz
2010-09-07, 05:15 AM
I don't think that's how knock works BUT HELL! It SHOULD XD.

Lord_Gareth
2010-09-08, 10:23 AM
It worked like that in 2e, when I played him :p

StreetPizza
2010-09-08, 11:08 AM
A scene from my current campaign featuring a completely mundane activity. It's just the juxtaposition between our having killed someone the previous night and our soon-to-be spelunking adventure that made it stand out to me. I dare say it's almost Tarantino-esque.

The sun was rising in the City of Towers. Gar, too, raised his stout, Dwarven frame out of bed. The inn's choice in mattresses was not to his liking. There was much to consider. The night before, he and a ragtag collection of bystanders confronted a murderous Warforged--they killed it, but in doing so, may very well have plunged themselves into the web of plots and gambits that was Breland house politics. Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe this meant high adventure, fame, and fortune. Maybe his life was in danger.

But all that could wait until breakfast was done.

Now awake and making his way down the stairs to the inn's common room, he found his companions from the previous night. Leskar, the human Barbarian, Caleb, the human Swordsage, Rin, the Paragenasi Druid, and Kellor, the Elf Wizard were sitting on one side of a table. On the other side were a human woman in a dark blue cloak and what was most like likely her bodyguard. Gar pulled up a seat on his companions' side.

"I am Elaydren d'Vown of House Cannith," the lady introduced herself. Before she could exposit further, the inn mistress, a halfling, served up the breakfast portion of the 'bed and breakfast' advertised outside: a waffle and a sausage.

Kellor frowned and pushed the sausage on his plate aside. "I don't eat sausages."

Everyone turned silent. Gar, far from being the only one, raised an eyebrow at Kellor's seemingly peculiar dietary choice and began contemplating what exactly he meant.

Any attempts at over-thinking the situation were nullified when Kellor added, "You don't know what they're made of. They could be rat meat as far as we know."

With that, the soundproof veil that had fallen over the party disappeared. "Eh, if you're not gonna eat it, I will." Leskar reached his fork across the table and stabbed the sausage to take it back to his own plate.

Gar shrugged. "Long as it tastes good, I'll eat it."

Lady Elaydren sighed impatiently and massaged her temples in irritation. "Can we get on with your mission already?"

Lady Moreta
2010-09-08, 10:33 PM
Oh, that was very good :smallbiggrin: *much applause*

I was waiting for something to happen (and agreeing that I don't like sausages either), and then nothing did. Very good :smallsmile:

Also, what on earth is a Paragenasi?

Marillion
2010-09-10, 01:30 PM
This is not in the d20 system, but I think it should be ok. :smallbiggrin:

Ok, so when I started this on tuesday, I had no idea it would be this long. It is, in fact, considerably longer than a snippet. But dammit I didn't type all this for nothing! :smalltongue:

Spoilered for length.

Seriously. Get comfortable.


The Keep of Baron Faulker
Or, Why I Flinch Every Time Someone Points At Me


Below us, the rolling foothills of die Weissbergen, and the small town where our caravan had stopped for the past week. Above us, the moon, pallid and bloated on the dreams of this once proud nation. In between, the modest manor of one Baron Faulker. The townsfolk had nothing but kind words for him. He kept the kobolds at bay. He made sure his people were fed. His taxes were more reasonable than most other men in his position. All he asked was that no one intrude upon his keep.

So inevitably, we must do that very thing.

Six inches to my left and a foot and a half down, ginger Daniel was peering through a hole in the fence that just happened to be at eye level for him. After about 5 minutes of this, I cleared my throat quietly. "Look, Dannyboy, I know this is important to you. I know I said that I would help you do this. But it's kind of cold out, and I'd like to get some rest tonight before we pack up and move on."

Six inches to my right and a foot and a half up, I heard rather than saw Dmitri's bushy eyebrow raise as he tilted his head, lightly rattling the multicolored beads in his hair. Even in this darkness, I could see his luminous green eyes, evidence of his Ussuran lineage. "We are leaving in the morning? I, uh, was not made aware of this."

"Well, if Des Gaulles has any sense, we are. I do not believe that the townspeople will buy our three-ringed farce much longer." I sighed, and began to rub my temples. "But then, this is Monsieur Des Gaulles we're speaking of." I sneered, then turned around and spat on the ground.

Without taking his eye away from the gap, Danny lilted back "Aye, Renaldo, but perhaps if you could actually FIGHT a bull like we said you could, the townsfolk just might have had an easier time swallowing this malarkey, ya think?"

I bristled, and my left hand sought out the hilt of my rapier. I hissed at him "Do not call me that! It is bad enough that Des Gaulles forces me to assume that name. I am Valiente Rafael Luis Zepata del Tor-"

"res de Castille de blah de blah de blah. Ye've got more names than I've got possible dads, an' that's sayin' somethin. Now hush up, will ya?"

I stewed in silence for about half a minute. "Besides, if Dmitri hadn't given the bull tactical advice, he wouldn't have gotten the better of me like that."

Smile playing at the edge of his voice, he gently demurred. "I do not know what you mean, friend. I was advising you to go for its legs. It is mere coincidence that it lowered its head at the last second. That looked painful, though. Are you sure you're ok?"

I jabbed my finger into his ribs. "Don't you give me that. I'm on to you. I've heard the stories about Ussurans, how you can talk to animals."

"We all can talk to animals. Even you. It does not mean they listen."

"But they DO! They LISTEN when you talk!"

"PIPE DOWN, lads! We can settle this later. The drug I slipped into their well earlier seems to be working. Only six guards on duty, and they all look pretty woozy, but they're not down. Dmitri?"

If Dmitri's eyes could have rolled all the way around, they would have. "I'll go get the bird and the monkey." And then, with more swiftness and silence than I would have believed possible of such a large man, he slid into the night, muttering to himself.

A minute passed in utter silence.

"...Bird and monkey?"

"Aye, it worked last night. They created a distraction so I could slip in, figure out the layout of the place."

"...Bird and monkey?"

"Yep."

"You mean the bird and monkey he keeps in his wagon?"

"Well, I think the monkey followed him up here, but...Yep."

"I see."

Another minute.

"You're not going to explain further, are you?"

"Nope. Ruins the surprise."

One more minute.

"You know, Daniel, I'm not quite sure why I'm doing this."

"Cuz you're my friend, and you can't resist helping a friend."

"Oh. Right."

Yet another unbearable minute.

"So, uh, are we waiting for something, or..."

A shadow with a wingspan only a foot shorter than Daniel passed over head, blotting out the moon for a second. Was...that a monkey being carried by an enormous raven? A moment later, I heard a monkey screeching, followed by shouting in Eisen and metal clanking on metal as the guards began to run after it.

"Yeah. That. Come on, we've not got long." The slight Inishman picked up the length of rope on the ground beside him and began spinning it, and a few seconds later the claw was firmly attached to the top of the wall. "You first."

"Why me?"

"Because, if it can hold your weight, than it can definitely hold mine and we've got nothin' to worry about."

"Excuse me?"

"It wouldn't kill you to ease off the steak. Just sayin." I sighed in disgust, but indulged him and began climbing, taking care not to snag my cloak on the barbs on top. Soon, we were both over the wall and in the courtyard. In the distance, I could see the six brutish guards falling over themselves as they tried to catch the elusive beast. I did not speak Eisen, so I asked Daniel what they were shouting about.

"Oh, somethin' about 'it's that flyin kobold again' and 'we're all doomed' and 'kill it quick before it leads the rest here'...usual Eisen nonsense, nothin' important. Come on, quick."

Like most of this forsaken country, the ground between the wall and the front door was completely barren, marked only by the footprints of the guardsmen. Nonetheless, we crossed without incident thanks to the ruckus caused by the "flying kobold". Once inside, I followed Daniel's lead through twisting corridors and winding passages, coming at last to a set of stairs flanked on either side by oaken double doors.

Pausing for a second, I rubbed my chin and reflected on the route we'd just taken. "Strange. This isn't like any Eisen building I've ever been in, all twists and curves. Most Eisen architecture is marked by utility and directness."

"Yah, well, Faulker isn't like any other Eisen. Now come on, the library should be just up these stairs."

"Wait. Library? You're risking my life for a damned book?"

"Grimoire, actually, but you don't know how right you are."

"Look, Daniel, this book can't be that important. We'll go to a library in Freiburg, they'll surely have a copy."

"No, this book is the last of its kind. And hopefully, it...Wait. You hear that?" I didn't. "Crap, guards are comin' round! Quick, hide!" He rattled the handle on one set of doors, and when it turned out to be locked, he swore under his breath in a language I'd never heard before. Now I could hear voices from above us, and they didn't sound like they were coming down to greet us with fruit-filled baskets. I dashed to the other set of doors and tried the knob. Yes! It opened. I waved Daniel over and shut and barred the door behind us.

The voices grew louder, accompanied by heavy footfalls and the jangling of swords. There was a great deal of shouting right outside the door, and for one horrible moment I thought they'd found us; but soon, their voices faded and we were left in peace. I realized I was holding my breath, and sighed in relief.

"I assume they were shouting about the kobold?" Daniel merely nodded.

Danger passed, I took a second to look around the room I found myself in. It was a woman's room...technically. In one corner, there was a lumpy bed scarcely big enough for one, and in the other, a small desk adorned with what appeared to be a toolkit and a worn, slumped candle, burning gloomily. 'Martha' was inscribed on the box in broad, crude letters, as those written by a child. Against the far wall, there was a wardrobe filled with dresses that, while the right shape and color, were too hole-ridden to be proper potato sacks. Above the bed was a small, barred window, plain and heavy curtains tied on either side.

"This room, it lacks...color, it lacks life. Look at those, Daniel. How could she wear those?"

"This ain't Castille, Rafael. Wearing bright colors just makes it easier for the monsters to see you."

"I suppose, but still...This is a joyless room. It's more a cell than anything." I wandered over to the desk; something about the toolkit caught my eye. "A joyless room in a joyless land. Hey, check this out." I picked up a tiny screwdriver.

"...It's a tiny screwdriver."

"Right, but what I mean is, it's too small to have any use for most people. I believe this woman has a panzerhand, and she does her own maintenance."

"Pansiewhat?"

"A panzerhand. It, uh, it's sort of like an iron glove. Like a gauntlet, but they're supposed to be almost as articulate as a real hand, and a hell of a lot more durable. Taking care of one is almost as complex as caring for a clock. Whoever she is, she's smart." I lightly rummaged through the box, and at the very bottom, I found a very small iron key. "Odd; that's not part of a standard kit. Won't fit a door..."

"You can drool over her tools later. Come on, let's get up those stairs before the guards return."

We were on the landing before I realized I'd taken the key with me. Crap. Well, can't really put it back now. I slid it into my breast pocket and promptly forget about it.

Atop the stairs, there was only one hallway, straightforward for once, leading to yet another set of double doors about 50 yards. Small barred windows lined the length of the otherwise bare western wall, interspersed with ensconced torches lighting our path.

I don't know what it was, but something about that door filled me with dread, the likes of which I'd never felt before. No...Not the door. Whatever was behind it.

But I'd promised my friend. If nothing else, I must go through those doors for him. By my side, I could see Daniel steeling himself similarly. There was something in those blue eyes of his, as though he was on a holy mission.

Perhaps we were.

Daniel nodded at me, and without a word we began to creep down the hall. Treading lightly on the hardwood floor, step after step, hardly daring to breathe. Every step I took was more difficult than the last, but still, we pressed on.

Halfway down the passage, the floor suddenly raised up an inch and I didn't catch it in time. I kicked the floor, and though I managed to keep from falling the noise seemed louder than a gunshot in the stillness. We froze, Daniel glaring at me with accusation in his eyes. We held for a minute, counting the seconds with heartbeats, but no sound came from the library doors. The only noise I could hear was yet more shouting in Eisen from outside, confused and angry.

We continued on, relieved that my misstep had gone unheeded, and too soon we were at the door. We both cautiously pressed our ears against it, listening for signs of life. For thirty seconds, all was silent...And then, a click.

Daniel planted his hands in my stomach and shoved me away from the door, actually lifting me off my feet. Just before I slammed into the wall behind me, I only had two thoughts. First, What the hell?? And second, why was that midget so thrice-damned strong?

As I hit the wall and my lungs bid farewell to the air within them, there was a deafening roar followed by a splintering crack and a fist-sized hole appeared in the space over Daniel's head, the space that had just been vacated by my chest. I threw up my arm, trying to keep the oak shards out of my eyes.

As it turns out, kicking the floor is in fact not louder than a gunshot.

Knocked off its hinges by the force of the ball, the door swung loosely into the hall. I drew my rapier and neatly sidestepped the door as it collapsed, unfastening my cloak and wrapping it about my right arm. Daniel however stood still, staring into the library, transfixed by what he saw. I couldn't blame him.

Staring down the barrel of a still-smoking musket stood a woman about my height in a shapeless brown dress. The way she carried herself suggested she was in her 30's, but the lines on her face told me she'd aged much more than she lived. Light blonde hair pulled back into a no-nonsense bun and eyes the color of her dress, the only things that really stood out were the broadsword at her hip and the metal glove on her left hand. Well, that and the fact that she was pointing a now-decorative musket at us. At her side stood a man who was a full ebon-topped head and shoulders taller than her, holding a pistol in one hand and an enormous longsword that was as long as Daniel. Swathed in black robes, he was as pale as the moon, and he looked as though he hadn't had a meal since before the War of the Cross. If eyes were the window to one's soul, he did not have one. As he leveled the gauntlet-clad hand holding the pistol at Daniel's head, I saw a glint of metal as his robes shifted. Was this fool wearing plate? For what purpose? Armor's been obsolete since before I was born.

On a table behind them rested a tome on a stand, bound in leather and covered in strange symbols that seemed to rearrange themselves as I watched. I found myself both fascinated and disgusted by it, and I could almost hear a faint whispering emanating from it. Ten yards behind that was a hearth providing reading light, and stretching out to the east were rows upon rows of bookshelves, with another entrance at the far end. The western wall had only a larger than average (though still barred) window obscured partially by curtains.

And then the Baron spoke. Just the thought of his voice still sends shivers up my spine today...Flat, emotionless, rasping, as though he were already dead, he paused often as if words were alien to him. It was mockery of all that was good and right.

"You...are trespassers. Leave...and...tell none...of what you've seen ton...ight. And you...shall live."

Daniel answered, charm-filled voice giving lie to the fear he must have felt at that moment. "I've got a counter-proposition for ya, Faulker. You give us that book and let us walk out of here, and YOU shall live."

At that moment, there was a rustling of feathers behind me, followed by a huge black bird swooping into the room. It alighted on a bust above the window. It preened itself for a second, smoothing out its wings, then turned its green eyes at the Baron and cawed. "Nevermore." The monkey was nowhere to be seen.

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Cute."

"This...creature...it is...yours."

"Aye, he's on my side."

"This...the so called fly...ing kobold."

Daniel merely smirked.

Without even turning his gaze, faster than I could blink, the pistol left Daniel's head and fired. The raven shrieked, blood splattered on the wall, and there was a wet thud as it hit the floor. I gasped, and Daniel cried out "NO! You're gonna pay for that, you son of a -"

"I...know what it...is. I know...it is not as it app...ears. And it...is not dead."

Sure enough, the bird began to rustle. Somehow it regained its feet, and it fluttered back to its perch, shedding blood and feathers as it went.

That is one tough bird.

"Last...warning. Leave."

"Oh, I intend to." With that, Daniel reached into his vest and pulled out his own pistol. "But WITH the book, thanks." He aimed, and fired. There was a noise almost like the ringing of a bell as Baron Faulker jerked backwards from the force of the impact, but you wouldn't know it to look at him; his expression, like his voice, was completely dead. The acrid stench of gunpowder filled my nose as Dmitri's raven screeched and took flight, and I fully expected the Baron to keel over at any second.

But he didn't. He simply shrugged, and his robes puddled around his feet, revealing an almost patchwork assortment of armor with a luster unknown to any other metal; Greaves on one side of his body, a shoulder-length gauntlet on the other, and an unmarked breastplate in between. Of course! Dracheneisen; unique to the Eisen lands, four times as strong as steel and only a fifth of the weight, it was so rare that only Eisen nobles could afford it.

Eisen nobles. Like, say, Baron Faulker.
Duh.

Still emotionless, the Baron assumed a two-handed grip on his sword. "Destroy."

In a voice more tired than I would have thought possible for her age, Martha answered "Yes, my love." She dropped the musket and drew her broadsword in her unprotected hand.

"Ok, Raf, you take her, and I'll handle Baron von Scaryguy."

"You sure about that?"

"No." Quick as a mongoose, Daniel chucked his pistol at Faulker and started running at him, drawing his knives. Unflinching even as it struck him on the temple, Faulker swung his sword in a wide arc that Daniel nimbly dodged. He tried to get in close, but was interrupted by another slash; that weapon was deceptively fast.

Meanwhile, Martha began to walk towards me, broadsword at the ready. I shifted my stance, cloak forward. "Come now, Senora. Surely we can talk thi-WHOA!" I neatly sidestepped an overhand chop and flicked my cloak at her face, circling to the right. "Careful! You could have hurt someone!" She turned to face me and thrusted. I sidestepped again and wrapped my cloak around her sword hand, slashing at her face. She brought her panzerhand up to deflect, scraping the edge of my blade and sending up sparks. She pulled free, and we began to dance. I never stopped moving, always circling to her right, disguising my outline behind my cloak and whipping it about her limbs, but she never grew tired, and any opening I could create was immediately filled by her metal hand.

From behind me, I heard the Inishman yell "The fire! Put it in the fire!" I had a brief moment to wonder what he was talking about before...

Have you ever heard a rabbit scream? It's perhaps the most heart-wrenching sound a man can hear in his lifetime, a high pitched grating shriek, the last sound a living creature makes when it knows it shall surely die.

This was worse. This was the sound of a rabbit dying, a pigs last squeal, a child screaming in agony, a mothers anguished wail, and a hundred, a thousand voices more, as though the world itself was dieing. I could hear my father crying in his sickbed, my sister's gurgling last gasps as she was held under, Yvette's shrills at the stake. Martha and I both clapped our hands to our ears and fell to our knees, bellowing along in a futile attempt to drown out the voices. Though I wanted more than anything to close my eyes, I forced myself to look at the source of the cacophony.

The grimoire we'd come to retrieve was in the hearth, flames dancing around it, and yet like my sister it did not burn. The symbols on its cover were furiously boiling and shifting, glowing the same color as the fire. Above us, the raven spun in erratic circles, obviously having difficulty staying aloft. Daniel and Faulker, however, seemed not to be affected.

Struggling to be heard above the din, I yelled "Daniel! Shut that thing up!!!! Get it out of the fire!"

"I'd love to, but I'm sorta tied down at the moment." he called back, dodging another swipe.

With tremendous effort, I forced myself to my feet and took my hands away from my ears. "Go! I've got your back." The rogue's eyes darted from me to the book to Faulker, and I could tell he was having trouble trusting me...but he nodded, and without another word he darted past the Baron. The gaunt man turned to follow him, but I wrapped my cloak about his head and pulled him backwards. "Oh no you don't you bastard! You're with me!"

Uncomplaining, he simply raised his sword and pressed the attack. Wild and unpredictable, I was barely able to keep ahead of him as he changed stances and grips fluidly, mixing wide devastating slashes with quick, spear-like thrusts. One such thrust I was too slow in dodging, and it scraped along my ribs opening a shallow but painful gash on my chest. In the heat of battle, I was only dimly aware that the unholy noise had stopped, replaced with a sound that reminded me of bacon sizzling on a grill.

Martha regained her senses, and immediately came to the aid of her husband. Now unable to do anything but defend, I was quickly backed against a wall. I parried a strike from her broadsword, but she pinned my sword down as Faulker lifted his arms above his head to deliver a blow I could not avoid.

Suddenly, a knife sprouted in his armpit. He froze, then wandered back a few steps, confusion finally on his face, something black and...chunky spewing from the wound. I took the opportunity to pull my sword free, entangling Martha's metal hand. Poised to deliver the finishing blow, I hesitated just a second...She was, after all, still a woman. Just a second. But it was enough.

"Give me that!" She grabbed the cloak with her iron glove and yanked me off balance, ripping it out of my hands. She threw it into the fire, and while I was still reeling off balance the last thing I saw was her iron fist filling my vision.

There was a sickening crunch as my nose shattered YET AGAIN, and any reservations I had about killing a woman promptly vanished. Unfortunately, I could no longer see her to do so. I stumbled away, hand flailing out for something to hold on to, and I grabbed onto the curtains on the window. I ripped them down and wiped the blood out of my eyes in time to see the raven flying back into this room the way we'd come in, book in its talons, six VERY angry guardsmen with pikes coming up behind it.

"Rafael! You and D...The bird have to go out the other door! I'll hold these dingleberries off."

I spat out a tooth and looked up at Daniel. "Don't be an idiot! You can't-"

"But I will! No matter what, that book MUST leave the building! GO!!" Still unsure, I nodded anyway and sprinted across the room, wrapping the curtain partially around my hand, Martha and the bird at my heels. Lucky for me, the far doors opened outward, as I discovered at the cost of a bruised shoulder. I swung behind the door as it opened, and when the bird and the woman came through I slammed it shut, threading my scabbard through the handles. Not the best bar, but hopefully it would buy us a minute if someone tried to follow us. I wished Daniel luck, then turned to face my adversary...

Who was already halfway down the corridor, completely ignoring me and chasing the bird. I followed them down, watching helplessly as she managed to clip the raven with the flat of her broadsword and throw it into the wall with such force I heard its frail bones crack. It fell to the floor, book clattering on the wood. I was halfway there when she raised her sword; half again when it turned its bright green eyes on me and croaked out in a fading voice "Sergei...Yu...Yulia..."

The names of Dmitri's brother and his wife.

It was then I realized; The birds size, its eyes, Faulkers comment on its true nature...This was not Dmitri's bird.

This was Dmitri.

I wouldn't be able to make it to her in time, the way I was running. Her sword was already coming down. So, I did the only sensible thing; I dove, lashing out with the end of the curtain. It barely reached, but enough of it wrapped around her wrist that I was able to pull her aside at the last second so that her sword slammed into the floor beside Dmitri. At the same time, a shrieking capuchin jumped off a windowsill and darted between her legs and began dragging the book that was almost as big as it was down the hall, though it wasn't going very quickly. Martha moved to give chase; I grabbed at her ankle.

She turned around and kicked at me. I rolled out of the way and stood up. We exchanged some strikes, but she seemed to be as fresh as when we started, whereas I...wasn't. I grew sloppy and with a thunderous blow she knocked my rapier out of my hand. I defended myself as best I could with the curtain, but soon she slipped past my guard again and I was being held against the wall, her metal fingers crushing the life out of my throat. My vision began to tunnel until all I could see was her lined tired face, and I knew...this was the end. I'd failed, and we were all going to die here. I clutched my hand to my chest, seeking solace in the Cross of the Prophets in my final seconds.

What the...That's not my cross.

The key.

I reached into my pocket and pulled it out, blindly forcing it into what I hoped was the locking mechanism at the base of her hand and turning it with what little strength I had left.

click

Immediately I was able to breathe again. I fell down, gasping and coughing and prying the fingers off my throat while in the distance I heard a woman shrieking in torment. I flung the panzer hand away, and half walked half crawled towards where my rapier lay. I armed myself, and turned to face her.

She was the woman screaming, crying wordlessly at the stump where her hand had been.

Oh.

Well, I didn't do that.

She suddenly charged at me roaring like an animal wounded, no longer paying heed to anything else. Her rage made her clumsy, and I easily avoided her attack, and the next one, and the next. She was tireless as ever, but where before she was calculated and efficient she was now crude and reckless. I'd seen this look before, on every bull goaded into a frenzy by my sword. Somewhere within myself I found the strength to fight on, and I led her back, neatly sidestepping each wild attack until I found myself against a banister; I'd led her to the landing. Finally breathless, she rushed me again, shouting curses in Eisen; I swirled my makeshift cloak around her head and pulled her forward, using her momentum to throw her over the railing.

She was suspended for an instant, weightless...And then she plummeted, cursing me until she smashed against the floor below. I peered over, half afraid that she'd already be on her feet, but no; although she was still breathing, she was unconscious and her knee was bent the wrong way. She couldn't get up if she tried. I drew the sign of the cross in the air above her, then walked back down the hall, taking note of a window whose bars had rusted away and not been replaced.

I sniffed, surprised I could smell anything with my nose the way it was. Was that...Burning fur?

Sure enough, when I reached the monkey (who was barely 10 feet from where he started, poor fella) his hands were raw and blistered. I shooed him off, and bent to pick up the book.

"SON OF A....GYYAAHH!!"

Ok, so that would explain the fur and the sizzling sound I heard earlier. Daniel was right; this was an evil book. I wrapped it in the curtain and picked it up; there we go.

I knelt over the bird; He squawked miserably, but Dmitri was still alive, thank Theus, and could even fly on his own.

The doors rattled, then shook as though hit an axe, reverberating down the hall.

No...Daniel...

They shook again, the impact even louder than a gunshot, but the doors were built to withstand rams, and no matter how strong Faulker was, he couldn't break them down this soon.

That's when the doors dissolved.

They didn't break, or splinter, or shatter, or even explode. They simply...disintegrated as I watched, noiselessly warping and aging into sawdust. The metal handles clattered to the floor, my scabbard still holding them together. There in the portal stood Baron Faulker with his hand outstretched, the whites of his eyes gone pitch black.

****. **** **** **** **** ****.

****.

I scooped up Dmitri and his monkey. The last thing I saw before I turned was Faulker extending a single finger in my direction.

I made it about three steps before the pain hit, pitching me forward onto the floor. Spasms wracked my body and I convulsed as I felt my limbs desiccating; but I took my feet again and I continued on, holding on to the wall for balance. I nearly fell again when my hand dipped into a window well...

Hold on a second. Hadn't one of the windows lost its fortifications?

Yes, it had. It was too small for me to fit through - and too far of a drop anyway - but right now, I wasn't worried about myself. I smashed the glass in with my elbow and bid Dmitri, the monkey, and the book farewell. I turned to face the Baron...

Who was already gazing out a window, arm extended beyond the bars. I looked out mine, and saw Dmitri plummeting to the earth, body withering and feathers turning grey as I watched. The monkey screeched helplessly as they fell...

Into a pair of waiting, gloved arms. A middle-aged Montaigne man stood in the courtyard, long hair the color of clouds with silk gloves that ran all the way to his shoulders. Though it was after midnight, he was impeccably dressed, as always. My sister's husband, Francois des Gaulles. I'd never been so happy to see the old fop.

Come to think of it, I'd never been happy to see him at all.

He looked up at me and called out in Montaigne. "Ten minutes, Renaldo. I suggest you hurry." Then, with a sound like meat tearing, his arm sank into the air up to his elbow. The Baron began to scream with rage, and as I watched the very stone walls of his keep began to corrode away, but des Gaulles paid him no mind, apparently beyond the range of Faulker's evil sorcery. The Montaigne pulled his arm down, opening a wound in the flesh of reality. He placed his gloved hand over the monkey's eyes, who placed its own over Dmitri's, and then they were gone.

Howling with impotent fury, the Baron unleashed his blight, and everything within a 20 foot radius of him was consumed in his madness. At this point, I had two options; stay and cross swords with a man possessed, who could rip the very essence of my life away with a glance; or get the hell out of there.

I turned, and I ran like I'd never run before. I somehow found my way out of the manor and I careened down the mountainside counting the seconds. I made it back to camp in exactly 8 minutes and 23 seconds, and the wagons were already on the move, mine included. I climbed on board, hobbled in the general direction of my bed, and collapsed halfway unable to continue. I had to trust in des Gaulles and my driver to lead us to safety.

This was not to be the last I saw of Baron Faulker, but that is a story for another day.


tl;dr That guy is seriously scary. Also, a monkey.

StreetPizza
2010-09-10, 06:13 PM
Also, what on earth is a Paragenasi?

I had no idea when our DM posted a list of our character sheets. I kinda feel like a dummy for not having looked it up until now, despite playing with the character for two whole sessions. :smallfrown:

Anyways, Paragenasis (http://www.crystalkeep.com/d20/rules/DnD3.0Index-Creatures.pdf) are a plane-touched race, being descended from outsiders of one of the elemental planes. Their obscurity probably comes from the fact that after 3.5E's release, no sourcebooks or articles were published about them. Also, they have pretty nice ability score modifiers for LA+0 races.


stuff

Nice job! Writing natural-sounding dialogue and delivering the dialogue with distinct character voices is quite the feat.

Lady Moreta
2010-09-10, 11:56 PM
Wow. That was epic :smallbiggrin:

Also, this:


Ye've got more names than I've got possible dads, an' that's sayin' somethin. Now hush up, will ya?"

Pure utter brilliance :smallsmile: made me laugh out loud.

Marillion
2010-09-11, 09:47 PM
Hehe, thanks.

Some fun facts:

-Daniel's heroic last stand came about because his player had to leave. He will be missed.
-Martha lost her hand in an accident involving her husband's new-found powers. Honestly, she might be scarier than Faulker just because she's batguano crazy enough to still love the Baron.
-Nobody calls The Baron by his name, IC or OOC. Instead, he's "THAT ****ING GUY." Yes, we say it in caps. Yes, every time.

Lord_Gareth
2010-09-18, 02:18 AM
Bumpage, FOR GREAT MIGHT!

darkpuppy
2010-09-18, 09:19 AM
Okay, I'm gonna try my hand at this. Most of these will be re-written elements of previous games, starting with an alternate Dragonlance history where a rather... different group recovered the Discs of Mishakal...


The Kender of Infinite Capacity
Although the details are better unknown...

It has been a difficult time thought Sir Ebor, blowing air through his copious mustache as he sat at the campfire. War begins to spread across the land, and we are the land's only hope of returning the Gods to the world... He looked around. At the failed cleric turned gambler, the kender who identified himself only as Dimble ("Just Dimble!" he'd cheerily introduced himself), and at the mysterious red mage who had come to their aid against that thrice cursed Black Dragon. Paladine have mercy on the poor sods.

Sir Ebor looked again at the Kender... it had been uncharacteristically well behaved for one of its thieving ilk, and he did not believe for one second the typical Kenderish lies of "Is this yours? Sorry, I completely forgot I had it" for a moment. Something was very wrong here, and he intended to discover what... after all, if those strange lizard creatures could masquerade as pilgrims, who knew what lies the Dark Queen could unleash?

"DIMBLE!" he roared, his chestplate vibrating beneath the force of the cry. He was unafraid of people hearing him, for nothing could stand 'neath the blade of Paladine's chosen and live! Dimble daintily minced his way over to the fire. Something was definitely different. For a start, Kender generally do not mince, or flounce, or indeed do anything but strut. Sir Ebor became, if anything, more suspicious.

"What" he growled, stressing each syllable "Are you doing?" The Kender, seemingly oblivious, if looking slightly pained, was a picture of innocence. But Sir Ebor was not convinced, even less so when Dimble's reply of "Nothing!" was of an even higher pitch than usual. Sir Ebor then realised, and the horror of such desecration almost made him faint. However, wrath triumphed over horror, and, without further ado, Sir Ebor bodily hauled the kender over to a nearby clearing...

...When he had retrieved the Disks of Mishakal from his "companion", he looked at them and almost fainted once more. While unharmed, he was not looking forward to explaining this to his fellow knights. Better not to mention it, he thought. Turning it over in his now grubby hands, he added ...especially not the sandwashing.

EDIT: For those who worked out exactly what Dimble had done, yes, this actually happened in a game I ran... Don't ask.

big teej
2010-09-18, 03:46 PM
due to me starting a new group on campus "the death of Kelvar" is on indefinite hold, instead,I plan to begin to regale you all with tales of my new group...

I imagine with a great amount of creative liscense until they get a handle on roleplaying....


until then, I await more snippets from the rest of you with great anticipation. :smallbiggrin:

Lady Moreta
2010-09-20, 12:06 AM
EDIT: For those who worked out exactly what Dimble had done, yes, this actually happened in a game I ran... Don't ask.

What did- Oh. Oh wait. I just realised... :smalleek: That is so wrong...

Well written though :smallsmile: I have a wonderful image in my head of Sir Ebor swelling his chest and roaring mightily.


due to me starting a new group on campus "the death of Kelvar" is on indefinite hold, instead,I plan to begin to regale you all with tales of my new group...

I imagine with a great amount of creative liscense until they get a handle on roleplaying....

until then, I await more snippets from the rest of you with great anticipation. :smallbiggrin:

I read that as 'kevlar' at first *facepalm*

I am in the middle of writing another snippet as we speak (only we're not speaking, and I'm not actually writing it right now.). I started it on my laptop and forgot to save it to my email drafts so I could access it at work. Of course, I'll have to resave it as a Word doc, since I use Open Office at home. This one is from our alternative campaign. The monk from our usual campaign has DM'd on occassion when our usual DM doesn't have the time to run the game. This snippet will be from my character in that campaign.

Also, we had our usual game yesterday and had a truly lovely fight - that um, didn't go quite as planned. We were expecting it to be really hard, DM confessed afterwards that he fully expected a couple of us to die during the fight. Instead - we wiped the floor with them. Oops :smallcool:

Lady Moreta
2010-09-21, 03:22 AM
Replying to myself I know... but I finished my latest snippet :smallbiggrin:

My other character, as I said, in a letter to her Mama.


Letters Home
or I Told You I Was Having Fun

Dear Mama

You said you wanted me to write and tell you any news I had – well, I’ve been promoted! My whole team was in fact, we are now members of Regdar, Regd-, Redgon – oh I’m not sure how it’s spelt and Ron isn’t here to ask (obviously not, as I’m in the female barracks and he’s male). I’m really very lucky he’s around, I’m sure my reports wouldn’t make very much sense if the CO had to read them as I write it. Sometimes big words confuse me.

Anyway, after our last two missions, we were told that there was an opening in Red- the Rangers, and we were offered those places! You can tell Papa that he was worrying for nothing, I’m fine. Okay, there was a bit of trouble after our last job, but I’ve been completely healed and Beda said there wouldn’t be any scars. Oh! You won’t know who Beda even is; I haven’t told you about my new team have I? Beda is a cleric of Perha, she’s very pretty and awfully nice. Last time we were in the barracks she told me she used to go around giving last rites to people who were dying. That’s how we met actually, she’d been sent by the Temple to give last rites to one of the important men who was dying. I’m sorry Mama, I know you like to have details, but I simply can’t remember what his name was. Beda said there might be a problem with my memory for a while. Maybe you shouldn’t tell Papa that. Anyway, Beda is good to have around, she was really nice about patching me up and she seemed grateful that I’d been there.

Ron was definitely happy that I was there. He’s a gnome, and he’s really short (obviously!). He is a wizard, he was talking about his training and all the spells he learnt, and honestly it gave me a bit of a headache. I think he’s much much smarter than I am. Still he was really nice about helping me with my report writing, so I don’t mind so much. He was also really happy that I was able to get in the way of the fighting. Wizards don’t seem to be very tough, some of the other fighters have laughed at him and called him a ‘squishy wizard’. I’d have to say that they’re right, but I wonder if they’ve seen the sort of things I’ve seen Ron do. He’s really very clever. I do wish he’d shut up sometimes though, he talks an awful lot. And he’s really annoying whenever he gets anywhere near Kregg. Kregg is a kobold, you know they don’t get on well with gnomes. Kregg and Ron are very good at proving that. They constantly nag at each other. I got so sick of it last time we were out that I yelled at them both to shut up. I don’t think they really listened to me. No one ever really listens to me, unless I’m telling them to get out of the way of my swing.

The last member of the group – well, he’s gone AWOL. Osserc is an archer, and he’s really good. He can get two arrows in the air at the same time, it’s neat to watch. He’s been helpful, softening things up until I can get there to do the real damage. But he’s also vanished. I wonder if I should mention that to our CO? I mean, I’m sure he knows about it, but maybe we should be looking for him. What do you think Mama?

Does Rikad want details of all our fights? He probably does. You can tell him the first big thing we fought was a pastry! Well, it wasn’t really – it was a golem, but it had been created by the wife of a baker, so it was made out of calzone. It was really tough, which surprised me; but it tasted pretty good afterwards. I know what you’re thinking – that wasn’t very nice, but the baker didn’t seem to mind. He was a bit upset, but he seemed to realise that it was his fault that it had gone all wrong in the first place. Well, maybe more his wife’s fault – he’s just a baker, she’s the wizard. Or would that be wizardess? She’s the one who animated it, and I guess it was her spells going crazy that sent it crazy. Ron explained it, but well, you know me Mama, most of it went in one ear and out the other. I’m not worried though, they don’t pay me to think. I [u]was[/i] impressed though, did you know Mama, she had animay she’d made a poker that thought. Ron called it something, but I’m not sure how it’s meant to be written, so I’m not going to try. It talked at us, and tried to keep us out of the house though. It was surprisingly hard to stop. In the end Osserc did it with his bow. He’s a really good shot.

Our second mission was scarier. Don’t tell Papa, but I nearly got knocked out. It’s a good thing Beda was around, because I’m not sure any of the boys have any idea about healing. I’m running out of room on this paper, and I don’t have any more, so I’d better keep it short. But we had to investigate this old guy, who’s really well known in Dandanagan, but was getting really sick and old looking. Which apparently he wasn’t supposed to. We went and investigated, and it turned out that his nephew (nephew? I think that’s who he was, either that or his son) had gotten himself involved in some sort of cult nonsense. The silly idiot even stabbed his own sister. She was rather pissed off about that.

Maybe you shouldn’t tell Rikad that part. He doesn’t need to get any ideas, and I’d rather not have to fight him off next time I visit home.

We sorted it out though – eventually. And I got my first taste of magic! Ron cast a spell he calls enlarge person on me. And well, that’s exactly what it did. I quite like being huge, it was fun. It didn’t really help much in the fight though. It threw my balance off, and I wasn’t expecting it to be that way, so I ended up almost tripping over my own feet, and I couldn’t get my sword swinging properly. Made me very effective at standing in front of people though. The silly idiot apologised in the end, and his uncle (father?) forgave him, so it all turned out okay.

So you see Mama, I’m doing all right. It was after that mission we got promoted, so you could say I’m doing really all right. We even get to keep what we find, if we can’t find any owner for it. I’m going to enjoy belonging to this new ranger unit I think. I’m wondering what else I can do to be more helpful. I wonder if a dog would help? I wonder if they’d let me have one? I think I’ll ask.

Give my love to Papa and Rikad, and have heaps of it all to yourself.

Love Lirrin

big teej
2010-09-21, 01:21 PM
that was cute =]


Now I kinda wanna post up a letter my dwarf knight sent back to the master of his order.....

but its from my campaign that I try not to talk about because I'm scared people will spoil things for me =[ (pre made module)

thoughts?


anyways, I really enjoyed that snippet

Lady Moreta
2010-09-21, 10:22 PM
that was cute =]

Thank you :smallsmile: to be honest, I wrote it like that because I didn't have my notes with me and couldn't remember the specifics of each fight, so I made it mostly fluff.


but its from my campaign that I try not to talk about because I'm scared people will spoil things for me =[ (pre made module)

thoughts?

If you really want to, go ahead, just ask people not to spoil anything for you :smallsmile:

big teej
2010-09-21, 10:47 PM
Thank you :smallsmile: to be honest, I wrote it like that because I didn't have my notes with me and couldn't remember the specifics of each fight, so I made it mostly fluff.



If you really want to, go ahead, just ask people not to spoil anything for you :smallsmile:

I liked it, it seemed..... I dunno, almost more personal.

anyways, I've been really 'eh' about posting the name of the module because I was worried people would spoil it for me anyways....

but I digress.

very well, I give you "Roche's letter to the order" #1, this takes place after the death of Kelvar, and is a summary of the events that have happend since session one (arriving in the village) and the last session we played.

this is meant to be an extremely conscise summary and evaluation of the situation, as Roche does not have access to a courier trusts.

anyways, without further ado (got it right this time!)

*note, this is exactly as it was when the DM got it.... the handwriting font I used may not carry over, but I'll try to make it so
**note, these forums do not have the font I used.

The following message is written in Terran

To Snorri Glitterbeard, Master of The Order Of The Shield Of The Mountian, also known as The Shield of the Mountian, hold-renowned smithy and warrior

A message from The Smoulderbeard.

Grungi’s blessings upon ye. I have arrived at the town to which I was dispatched, in order to investigate the temple of the elemental evil, below is a recounting of the events that have transpired since my arrival.

Since being sent forth to investigate the temple of evil, I have begun to travel with several other adventuring folk, an odd group of misfits to say the least, I travel with a half giant who calls himself “Mongo”, a worshipper of Dragons known as “Kelvar”. He’s an odd lad, even for a manling, but he seems solid enough in a fight. Next is “Verad” a Human Druid, and his pet bison…”fluffy”, tree worship and …’unique’ naming habits aside, he seems to be dependable…. For a manling.

Upon the day of my arrival, along with my … compatriots, sought refuge within the ‘Welcome Wench’ a tavern that possesses not an ounce of proper beer, not even by manling standards. After settling in, we explored the town a bit, including a errand run into the local potion shop, we then discovered that the potion-master was missing, and the shop was being run by his daughter and her dwarven bodyguard in his absence. I pledged myself and my companions to retrieve the girl’s father. My companions and I then set off forthwith for what is known as “the moat house” about these parts. Within the moat house, we encountered a youngling blue dragon, Kelvar, spirits rest him, was slain in the battle with the beast by its lightning breath, Verad and I proceeded to cut the dragon to pieces, I’m having its head stuffed and mounted in the local taxidermy, should make a fine mantelpiece upon my return to the hold. After giving Kelvar a proper burial, we headed back the next day with a new companion in tow… He be an elf by the name of Glyff, he’s an odd one right enough, even by the standards of the manlings I’m surrounded by, he claims to have been cursed by a wizard some time ago and that is the cause of his ‘unique’ appearance, the elf has bright red hair and a few other ‘distinguishing’ features. I’d appreciate if you set a scribe or three to doing some research to see if they can find tale of any such wizard, curse, or elf. I have known him only for a few days, and while he has stood his ground in combat, I’ve yet to take his measure. Upon our return to the Moat house, we discovered t he girls father and returned him immediately to his home. The day after that, we went forth to the moat house once again, as it is our only lead to the temple. On This trip, we encountered several gnolls that quickly fell in combat to our blades. Beneath the moat house is a vast tunnel complex, I have not had time to explore this complex yet, but I my companions and I leave with a local paladin in the morning to explore it further… which brings me to the purpose of this missive…


Beneath the moat house we encountered several ghouls, and as I mentioned before, discovered a cavern and tunnel complex that seems to spread out beyond the moat house, within this complex we discovered something…vile, it is a shrine to, what I have been informed, is “the temple of the evil eye”, I tell ye, This place offended every fibre of my being. I cannot stress this enough, this place was evil, and unholy far beyond my knowledge to deal with. Knowing this, we retreated immediately back to the town to seek the aid and guidance of the local clergy in purging this place from the realm. We have sought aid from the clerics of Pelor, Ehlonna, and St. Cuthburt, at this time the head clerics of all three temples are currently researching and communing with their gods as to the best course of action, as of this writing, The alter has not been destroyed, I have been convinced by the combined wisdom of the clergy that wanton destruction could awaken…something, I have also recruited a paladin to my efforts to destroy this place, but his hand too, is held in check by the clerics, we eagerly await the conclusion of their research so we may purge this place, it offends the both of us to our souls. In the meantime, another development has arisen that may stay my hand from the destruction of the alter further yet, my companion , Verad, has disappeared. And we cannot find him. I am honorbound to find him before I destroy the temple, I cannot leave my companion to whatever fate might befall him.

At the time of this writing, I am not in need of assistance, however, I realize this place could hold my doom, or worse, so I do request that you place 5 Battle Brothers on alert that they may be sent here, if resources permit. If they do not, especially if they do not, I pray you would consider putting out the call to the Slayers, something tells me there is many a fell deed and mighty doom to be found here.


Praise be to the Ancestor-Gods, Grimnir, Grungi, and Valaya! For they have placed weapons in our hands, and foes before us, surely we are blessed in their sight.

May the ancestors’ eyes be upon you
Khazak un Uzkul
Roche Smoulderbeard, Knight of The Shield of the Mountain


for those of you who didn't guess it
the module we are running is the temple of elemental evil

PLEASE DO NOT SPOIL THIS FOR ME!!!

StreetPizza
2010-09-22, 12:07 AM
While we're on the subject of Dwarves, I'm currently working on what was more or less the defining moment of great kickassery for my first character, but college is in the way. :smallfrown:

I'm hoping to have it up by this weekend.

Lady Moreta
2010-09-22, 02:27 AM
I liked it, it seemed..... I dunno, almost more personal.

Thank you, that was the plan :smallsmile:

I'm thinking the rest of her snippets will be in the form of a soldier's report to their CO. She's the fighter of the group, and intelligence was her dump stat (hence all the crossed out words she couldn't spell), so I'm thinking a report to a superior should work. And it gives me a chance to try something different to what I'm doing with Silver.

As an added bonus, it forced me to decide how to spell her name. I had about five different variations of Lirrin and I couldn't decide which one I liked best. At least I've had to make up my mind now!


very well, I give you "Roche's letter to the order" #1, this takes place after the death of Kelvar, and is a summary of the events that have happend since session one (arriving in the village) and the last session we played.

I'm still reading this as kevlar, I'm afraid :smallmad: Name is Kelvar...


To Snorri Glitterbeard, Master of The Order Of The Shield Of The Mountian, also known as The Shield of the Mountian, hold-renowned smithy and warrior

Snorri is a wonderful name, I love it :smallbiggrin: and I love the use of 'manlings' it sounds so wonderfully diminutive, and coming from a dwarf, it just works.


but college is in the way. :smallfrown:

I'm hoping to have it up by this weekend.

College is evil, I understand. Ohh, and I'm going away this weekend, I won't be able to read it :smallfrown:

big teej
2010-09-22, 10:00 AM
Thank you, that was the plan :smallsmile:

I'm thinking the rest of her snippets will be in the form of a soldier's report to their CO. She's the fighter of the group, and intelligence was her dump stat (hence all the crossed out words she couldn't spell), so I'm thinking a report to a superior should work. And it gives me a chance to try something different to what I'm doing with Silver.

I'm still reading this as kevlar, I'm afraid :smallmad: Name is Kelvar...



Snorri is a wonderful name, I love it :smallbiggrin: and I love the use of 'manlings' it sounds so wonderfully diminutive, and coming from a dwarf, it just works.



College is evil, I understand. Ohh, and I'm going away this weekend, I won't be able to read it :smallfrown:

ye're welcome, =]
I look forward to seeing her try to sound 'official' it promises to be very amusing.

kevlar vs kelvar.
my sincerest apologies, in the group this happend in, it's typically my job to prevent terrible names (typically by pointing out an easy joke that can be made off of them) I obviously failed in this task by either a) not making the obvious kevlar joke or b) not making it obvious enough that it'd needed to be changed...

don't worry, you'll get it eventually.

I wish I could take credit for coming up with "snorri" on my own, but I read too much warhammer for that. same thing with manlings.... but it DOES flow well from a dwarf doesn't it? ^_^

and yes, college is evil
except when you get a wonderful gaming group together comprising of your felllow students AND faculty.:smallcool:

I"m afraid I don't know when the next installment of "Roche's letters" will be, I haven't gamed with that group since I left for college back in august.

StreetPizza
2010-09-22, 01:04 PM
except when you get a wonderful gaming group together comprising of your felllow students AND faculty.:smallcool:

Le gasp. Where do you go to college? I haven't been able to find a group like this despite about 40,000 students on campus and who knows how many faculty members and clubs (didn't see any tabletop gaming-related ones at the club fair, though :smallfrown:).

big teej
2010-09-22, 02:35 PM
Wingate University, NC

student populatin less than 5000

a few weeks back I put up fliers all over campus (class buildings, dorm halls) and got 2 players from that, then, exasperated and desperate for players, I asked my faculty advisor about students/faculty/staff on campus that played, and he sent me too my sociology teacher, who sent me to the 3 teachers that are now in my group

session 2 is this weekend and the party has ALOT of money to spend do to me rolling the highest possible for random treasure.

40 platinum in one roll is ALOT for newbies:smallcool:

Lady Moreta
2010-09-22, 08:08 PM
ye're welcome, =]
I look forward to seeing her try to sound 'official' it promises to be very amusing.

Promises to do my head in more like it :smalltongue:

She's a pre-rolled character, and intelligence was her dump stat (it's an 8 I believe), but charisma is a 10. I'm trying to play her as big and solid, and a hard hitter (she is a fighter after all), friendly and open, but not overly bright. Not stupid (I figure 8 is only just below average), but a bit of a slow thinker, not great with words or spelling, and prefers to let others do the thinking for her. She's not smart, but at the same time, she's smart enough to know that she's not.

Unfortunately, I have two university degrees, one of which is post-grad - so my natural intelligence would be somewhere like a 16 or 17. Trying to write someone not-that-smart is doing my head in (as arrogant as that sounds :smalleek:).


I wish I could take credit for coming up with "snorri" on my own, but I read too much warhammer for that. same thing with manlings.... but it DOES flow well from a dwarf doesn't it? ^_^

It really does. Snorri makes me think that he snores really badly and that's where the name came from :smallbiggrin:



session 2 is this weekend and the party has ALOT of money to spend do to me rolling the highest possible for random treasure.

40 platinum in one roll is ALOT for newbies:smallcool:

Yikes! I don't think we've ever been given that much in one go, and we're Level 12!

big teej
2010-09-22, 08:23 PM
Promises to do my head in more like it :smalltongue:

She's a pre-rolled character, and intelligence was her dump stat (it's an 8 I believe), but charisma is a 10. I'm trying to play her as big and solid, and a hard hitter (she is a fighter after all), friendly and open, but not overly bright. Not stupid (I figure 8 is only just below average), but a bit of a slow thinker, not great with words or spelling, and prefers to let others do the thinking for her. She's not smart, but at the same time, she's smart enough to know that she's not.

Unfortunately, I have two university degrees, one of which is post-grad - so my natural intelligence would be somewhere like a 16 or 17. Trying to write someone not-that-smart is doing my head in (as arrogant as that sounds :smalleek:).



It really does. Snorri makes me think that he snores really badly and that's where the name came from :smallbiggrin:




Yikes! I don't think we've ever been given that much in one go, and we're Level 12!

I never thought about snorri coming from snoring......
huh..

I totally understand the problems with playing dumb characters while being immesnly intelligent
I'm seriously considering triple majoring and taking a minor as well....


as far as the money
I rolled on the level 1 random treasure table.
I rolled like a 97
which was 4d4x10 platinum peices
and I rolled a 4
so they got 40 platinum
in addition to all the other gold in the adventure (these were very rich goblins apparently)

also, I was reading through the tables today and it turns out I SHOULD HAVE ROLLED AGAIN, because the table has a note saying "if you roll between 96 and 100, roll again on the next table

so they had the potential to get EVEN MORE money/stuff!!!

as it is, given that I run a more valuable platinum than normal, I'm not going to roll again this time around.

they have an exorbanint amount of money for a first level party (even if they do have to split it up with the DMPC/NPC rogue they hired along for the last adventure)

40 platinum + 100 something gold / 7 is still a fair piece of change....

I had a player tell me today that after they left on the way back to their dorm they kept thinking "I'm rich, I'm rich, I'm rich, I"m rich"

joyful ^_^

Lady Moreta
2010-09-22, 10:01 PM
I totally understand the problems with playing dumb characters while being immesnly intelligent
I'm seriously considering triple majoring and taking a minor as well....

See, that's just nuts :smalltongue:


I had a player tell me today that after they left on the way back to their dorm they kept thinking "I'm rich, I'm rich, I'm rich, I"m rich"

joyful ^_^

Heehee, that's cute :smallsmile: although I do something similar. I have plans for the things I want to get Silver, and I tend to hoard cash until I have enough. Right now I have slightly over 9,000gp and I'm saving up to get slippers of battledance. Unless the DM decides to just make them loot from our last fight - he worked out exactly what we have the other day and realised we're slightly behind according to the wealth-by-level guidelines.

More loots for us! :smallbiggrin:

What shall I write next? I'll admit, I'm at work and I'm bored. I like to have not-work on hand if I need a break, and I'm on a real writing kick at the moment. I can't do Lirrin's 'reports' or the first-person account of the last fight Silver was in because I need my notes and I don't have them here. What else can I do? Anyone got any ideas? any requests?

Help!

big teej
2010-09-22, 10:22 PM
See, that's just nuts :smalltongue:



Heehee, that's cute :smallsmile: although I do something similar. I have plans for the things I want to get Silver, and I tend to hoard cash until I have enough. Right now I have slightly over 9,000gp and I'm saving up to get slippers of battledance. Unless the DM decides to just make them loot from our last fight - he worked out exactly what we have the other day and realised we're slightly behind according to the wealth-by-level guidelines.

More loots for us! :smallbiggrin:

What shall I write next? I'll admit, I'm at work and I'm bored. I like to have not-work on hand if I need a break, and I'm on a real writing kick at the moment. I can't do Lirrin's 'reports' or the first-person account of the last fight Silver was in because I need my notes and I don't have them here. What else can I do? Anyone got any ideas? any requests?

Help!



I figure.... if I make good enough grades, they'll pay to keep me here, and I don't mind graduating a year behind if i'm learning things that interest me. so the plan is to make straight A's and graduate with 3 degrees =D

take THAT entry level employment!!

as for the cuteness
I refrain from the world, given that it was the one male student-player XD however it did make me very very very happy to have one of my players actually think about stuff that happend IN GAME, OUT OF GAME. =]
novel experience for me.

also, as to what to write, do something you don't need notes/material for.

tell an origin story, or make up some past adventure before they joined the party, or perhaps why they became an adventurer, many of my character's have such sagas, even if they don't come up in game, or are built into where they were born. (barbarian grew up in the chaos wastes, that kinda sets you up for an adventuring lifestyle)

hope that helps

Lady Moreta
2010-09-22, 10:55 PM
I figure.... if I make good enough grades, they'll pay to keep me here, and I don't mind graduating a year behind if i'm learning things that interest me. so the plan is to make straight A's and graduate with 3 degrees =D

take THAT entry level employment!!

Wow. Well done you. I just had a conversation about uni with a staff member. I need to contact the IRD (govt dept managing my student loan) and ask/beg them to let me extend my repayment holiday another year, to give husband and I time to save up the money we'll need to actually pay the darn blasted thing.

That ended up in a discussion about how I spent 5.5 years at uni, with a student loan of approximately $50,000 (NZ dollars) - and I'm not using either of the degrees I have in my current job :smallfrown:


as for the cuteness
I refrain from the world, given that it was the one male student-player XD however it did make me very very very happy to have one of my players actually think about stuff that happend IN GAME, OUT OF GAME. =]
novel experience for me.

I'm a girl. I'm allowed :smalltongue: it's the 'in game, out of game' aspect of it that makes it cute.


tell an origin story, or make up some past adventure before they joined the party, or perhaps why they became an adventurer, many of my character's have such sagas, even if they don't come up in game, or are built into where they were born. (barbarian grew up in the chaos wastes, that kinda sets you up for an adventuring lifestyle

That's a good idea. I know why Silver ended up as an adventurer, but not the exact way it happened. I know practically nothing about Lirrin at all - apart from the fact that her parents are still happily married, she has a little brother Rikad, and they don't live in Dandanagan (all of which I made up while writing the letter home). Maybe I should figure out why Lirrin left the village for city life :smallsmile:

Thank you, you've been most helpful :smallsmile:

Lord_Gareth
2010-09-22, 11:32 PM
Soon I shall bring you tales of:

Endeca Spellweaver, Chaos Magus.

"Reality? Isn't that an excuse invented by other mages?"

Lady Moreta
2010-09-23, 02:18 AM
Endeca Spellweaver, Chaos Magus.

"Reality? Isn't that an excuse invented by other mages?"

This sounds epic. I approve. :smallbiggrin:

I would like some critisim please. I am currently (sort of currently) turning our entire campaign into a story (not using first person, for the sake of my sanity). The first part of the story is - well, crap to be quite frank. I struggled with making it sound like a natural fantasy story and less like a D&D game. I thought I'd post a bit of it here, and see if anyone has any ways/ideas/suggestions for fixing it.

I did get better, and the later writing flows much better, but I desperately need help fixing the first chunk.

Two warnings: it's rather longer than I realised, and there is absolutely no fancy formatting. The original on my computer is formatted with bold/italics/different fonts, but when I copied it to another forum I was lazy and couldn't be bothered putting in the appropriate tags, so it looks a little boring and inflectionless.


Please Help Me Fix It
or, Please Help Me Fix It :smalltongue:

“How long have we been travelling?”

“I didn't know the last time you asked me, and I don't know now. It could be weeks, it could be months” Tanc tried not to let the irritation he felt bleed through into his voice, but the young elf with his incessant questions was starting to get on his nerves.

The group had been trapped on the Plane of Shadows for months now, at least, that was the assumption. Time travelled oddly on the Plane of Shadows, and it was hard to tell exactly how much time had passed, and how much longer they had to go before they reached their destination. Tanc found that his nerves frayed easily in this strange, strange place – if he wasn't fielding questions from the ever-curious Rifus, then he was keeping the peace between Nera, the Catfolk sorceress, and Lester, the human paladin whose actions had gotten them into this predicament in the first place. The situation wasn't helped by the fact that he was being plagued by odd dreams – not the nightmares that the Dream Spectre had forced on those who slept, but peculiar nonetheless. He couldn't remember them exactly when he awoke, but he always felt strangely restless after one of them.

Tanc remembered the near-disaster that had come from the encounter with the Dream Spectre because of the delay of those who had experienced the dreams to say anything about them. He opened his mouth to speak, to avoid repeating that mistake, when Lester, the human paladin of the Lord of Light spoke first

“Look ahead, does the path dip into a tunnel there?” he pointed forwards of the vague, dark path they were following. Sure enough, it did appear to become a tunnel, a vast open mouth full of the darkness that already surrounded them; barely affected by the timid light of Lester's light spell, and Tanc's magical ring.

“You're right” he said, holding up one hand to call the others to him, “it does look like there's a tunnel up ahead.”

Elven Rifus, shrouded in his black cloak, blending into this plane more than Tanc was really comfortable with, came floating back into view having wandered on ahead, as was his wont. A minute later, Nera with dark-haired Silver came up and joined them. The two women, one Catfolk, one Elf, made an odd pair. Despite that, they walked with heads close together, talking and occasionally laughing. Tanc decided he didn't particularly want to know what they were talking about; from the look Nera was shooting at Lester, he suspected it was nothing polite.

“Why are we stopping?” Silver asked, squinting into the distance as if to pierce the darkness. In reality, only Rifus, with his darkvision was truly comfortable in this plane. “Have those flakey things stopped moving again?”

“No,” Tanc replied, “it looks like there's a tunnel up ahead.”

“So the snakes are heading into the tunnel?” Nera asked

“Don't know, but that's the direction they're heading in” Tanc answered. “The question is whether or not we want to go in or not.” There was a moment of silence, and then Rifus, youngest of the party, spoke up.

“You know you're just waiting for me to volunteer” he said. “So, off I go, into the wild unknown – without any idea of what awaits me, scarcely able to see, but striding off bravely!”

“You're the only one of us who can see” Silver muttered, at the same instant Nera snorted and said, rather louder

“Don't talk rubbish, you'll go invisible and start flying. No one will be able to see or hear you coming!”

Rifus grinned, suddenly looking altogether far too young,

“Yeah, you're right” he said, and with a faint shimmer, he disappeared.

“Wait!” Silver yelled, “let me cast Message first” she fished a short piece of copper wire out of the pouch at her belt and flicked it in the air, “Message” she cast her spell in her native language, but instantly they were all connected and able to communicate with each other via her.

“He is such an idiot” she muttered under her breath, “and he's jolly lucky he was still in range”

“I haven't actually gone anywhere yet” Rifus' voice came out of nowhere, right next to Silver, speaking directly into her ear. She jumped and aimed a backhanded slap through the air that did precisely nothing. Nothing to Rifus that is, Silver's jump and swipe took her into the path of Nera who was standing slightly behind her, rummaging through her own spell pouch. The Catfolk hissed at her party member, but it turned quickly into a sigh. Silver stepped quickly out of the way and raised an eyebrow at the other woman.

“Greater Invisibility doesn't last long enough” she explained, “I'll just follow him without it.”

“You know you don't have to follow him at all?” Tanc said.

“I know, but I want to” Nera replied, heading off in the direction of the tunnel, that they assumed Rifus had gone in already. Tanc, Silver, and Lester followed slower, and stopped at the entrance to the tunnel, waiting for Rifus or Nera to tell them it was safe to enter.

Rifus flew higher as he moved silently through the tunnel, passing back the information that it appeared to have been constructed, by persons unknown. He reached an open area, and noticed there was some sort of swarming movement below him.

“There's something her- ooohhh” He started reporting back to Silver, but trailed off as his attention was attracted by the movement below him.

“Something?” Silver queried impatiently, “what something?” Lester and Tanc both regarded her curiously, though her only explanation was a rather short and irritable “bloody elf.”

“They're moths” Rifus explained, startling Silver with the sound of his voice in her head, “with lovely patterns, almost hypnotic.”

“Well, don't look at them!” Silver barked at him.

“What is it?” Tanc asked, starting to feel anxious.

“Hypnotic moths apparently” Silver said, the tension in her voice evidence of the strain that came with trying to hold two conversations at once, one of them entirely inside her head. Tanc found himself, and not for the first time, thanking his god that he wasn't a spellcaster, and didn't have to suffer the discomfort that must come with turning oneself into a walking, talking, message centre.

“Hypnotic moths?” Tanc mused, “anything like the ones we encountered in the caves under that Dwarven fortress?”

“That's what it sounds like”

“Warn Nera?”

“Good point” Silver murmured, she closed her eyes briefly to pass the word on to Nera

“Nera, there are more of those hypno-moths up ahead, be careful”

The words were barely out of her mouth, when there was the familiar whoosh and rush of hot air they'd come to associate with Nera casting Fireball. Without waiting for any word, Tanc sprinted forward into the tunnel, followed by Lester and Silver. They caught up to Tanc standing next to Nera at the edge of the open space

“What did you do?” Tanc was asking as they reached them.

“They're on the ground, they were in my way” the sorceress replied, “I got rid of them” she sounded immensely pleased with herself. They looked out at the blackened moths, and saw two still moving around,

“Oh, looks like I missed a couple” Nera commented, and with a simple, offhanded gesture she cast the spell again, looking quite delighted at the sight of the silk on fire. She started forward into the open area, when Tanc threw out a hand and stopped her.

“Let me go first” he said, “remember the larvae are almost worse than the moths themselves.” he moved cautiously forwards, and shot an arrow into the pile of smelling, burning silk. The arrow smoothly penetrated the silk, and promptly disappeared. Tanc made a noise of irritation and started forwards to further check the silk, only to have Nera throw out a hand and stop him.

“Allow me” she said smugly, waving one hand in the direction of the silk. Behind them, Silver chuckled, having recognised the gesture. A minute later, Tanc too realised what Nera was doing – her Mage Hand spell easily lifted the silk out of the way, revealing several undeveloped larvae, also dead. Satisfied that it was safe, they all, save Lester, moved forwards and collected the ivory mandibles from the dead moths. Previous experience had shown that the ivory of these moths was extremely valuable, even more so that of the fully developed larvae. The three of them stood up and looked around as Lester moved forwards and joined them.

“Should we not have heard from Rifus? he asked. Silver nodded, and held up one hand for silence as she spoke to Rifus

“Rifus, where are you?”

“In the tunnel, it's turned into a vertical shaft. What's going on with you?”

“We, well, Nera, got rid of the moths down here, she cast Fireball a couple of times. What can you see?”

“Actually, it's opened into a room now – wow, that's a lot of moths.”

“How many-”

“And I can see an archway on the other side of the room.”

“Rifus, how man-”

“Could be tricky getting across, I can't get through without bumping into some of the moths”

“Rifus!” Silver finally snapped, “get back down here so we can talk this over. I'm sick of having to relay everything.”

Lord_Gareth
2010-09-23, 02:23 AM
I don't have my story done yet (Entitled "ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!" (Or: When Clever Plans Backfire Hard), but the pic in this spoiler is Endeca. That Intellect Devourer is her familiar, Snuggles.

http://i126.photobucket.com/albums/p119/Lord_Gareth/packratmage.jpg

Lady Moreta
2010-09-23, 03:17 AM
Awesome :smallbiggrin:

Wait. She has an Intellect Devourer as a famailiar? And she called it Snuggles? :smalleek:

Oh, this is gonna be good...

Lord_Gareth
2010-09-23, 02:57 PM
"ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!"
Or: Too Clever for His Own Good

My name is Hathar, and I'm one of the few people to have survived long-term exposure to Hatch - sorry, Endeca. I called her Hatch when I met her because she was just a child. Still is, in a lot of ways. Always will be.

The thing about Hatch is...well, it isn't that she's stupid or slow. Hatch has a mind that runs like it's on fire, skipping and skittering from idea to idea, chewing up complex arcane formulae and spitting out improvements like it was child's play. Endeca knew where to put a fireball and how best to utilize the ability to fly. The problem with Hatch is that she's innocent like a child is innocent. She doesn't understand that bad things happen. She doesn't even really understand half of what she does when she scorches "the bad guys" into carbonized cinders or turns them inside-out or accidentally banishes them to horrific nightmare dimensions that might only exist in their minds. She lets spells run out of control just to watch them go and giggles and laughs at the results in that bell-like voice of hers that makes whatever horror she's just unleashed so much worse. She's not evil. She's not mean. She just doesn't comprehend that she might be hurting people. If she actually knew, I think it would break her heart.

I'd taken Hatch under my wing after finding her in a set of old ruins I'd been exploring, having been initially surprised by a hypnotic pattern she'd set into place to show me the swirling colors and pretty lights. We ended up blundering into an extraplanar portal in the basement, and from there our adventures took us to meeting our companions and our foe, the Archlich Brian Zeli.

In the final confrontation, I am shamed to admit that I was pinned to the wall, unable to act because I was frozen in place by a thick coating of soverign glue. As my compatriots battled Zeli's minions, Endeca confronted him in a great duel of magic on a stone walkway high above the crater to a volcano, elemental shields sparking and shimmering as they dispersed the heat and poison fumes.

Every spell Endeca cast was countered or blithely ignored, ricocheting wildly off of Zeli's shields and into the night sky above. Growing more and more frustrated, Endeca hurled spell after spell, hoping to dispel his wards or else hammer her way through them and crush the frail undead behind. Zeli laughed as he undid her magics and toyed with her, standing on the walkway without a care in the world.

Suddenly, Endeca stopped and regarded the lich thoughtfully, and began to dig through her spell component pouch with great care. Laughing, Zeli called out, "All of your spells have failed to affect me thus far, whelp! What makes you think this one will fare any better?"

"ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!" came the resounding cry as Endeca pulled forth a fistful of random components and bit down hard on them. I tried to cry out for Hatch not to do it, but it was too late; the spell-weaving was already whipping up around her like an angry storm and running out of her control. Hatch spat out the components and stomped on them, gleefully playing with strands of raw arcane energy that scorched her fingers and made her hair stand on end even as sparks and lightning bolts flew between the metal on her person.

"Fear the mighty power of my...."


The spell had finally come undone, snapping apart in a great flash of light that left Endeca holding a masterfully crafted silver spoon. All signs of battle stopped as she squeaked out, "Spoon?".

Casually, Hatch tossed the spoon over the walkway, thinking it worthless. Zeli screamed a desperate no and leapt over the side after it, and learned something very important - not all of Hatch's dispels had failed.

The lich could no longer fly. He hit the lava just after his phylactery, cleverly hidden as a simple piece of silverware.

Turning to the rest of the battle with puzzlement on her face, Endeca finally asked, "Should I have kept that?"

big teej
2010-09-23, 06:26 PM
I LOVE IT!!!!


spoon?

hahahahahahahahhahhah


this has inspired me to write the first (and unfortunately, so far only) installment of 'gohk and grok'

the tales of a gnome paladin...... and an ogre ranger...

big teej
2010-09-23, 09:06 PM
I give you.....

the first installment of gohk and grok

its REALLY long so heads up

*slight note: Grok is not a typical DnD ogre, he, and his clerical counterpart Torg, are drawn almost exclusively from Warhammer Fantasy fluff, as such, Grok stands slightly taller, and MUCH MUCH heavier, than the typical ogre
also, he worships "the great maw" an ogre diety of hunger who is worshipped by killing and eating.


The first installment, of gohk and grok

Gohk and grok… are an odd pair to say the least. Gohk is a gnome paladin, a paladin who’s quite full of himself in fact, he swaggers about wherever he goes. (this may have been what caused him to land his current and ongoing assignment) that assignment being ‘babysitting’ the city’s resident Ogre, grok. Grok, is unique amongst the ogres, he was found in the woods as a child by a grey render, and was raised/protected by it. From the grey render, Grok learned protective behavior and the ability to latch onto someone in a (mostly) beneficial way. Many years ago, a wizard of the city encountered the grey render, it had been wounded and grok, still rather young at the time, was picked up by the wizard and led back to the city, the wizard felt that grok’s protective and slightly un ogrery nature could be cultivated and put to use for the city… several years have passed since this time.

Since being brought to the city, grok has become a … if not ‘loved’, at least ‘usually likeable’ fact of life for the towns people, he has been trained not to eat the average citizen (at least not without permission) and has also learned (sorta) to keep the amount of collateral damage down, however, whenever he becomes excited, he still has a tendency to knock over buildings.

The leadership of the city has put grok to use in several official functions, including as a method of public execution against those guilty of treason, or monsters that attempted to attack/invade the city. He also makes an excellent detterent against invasion from other cities/nations. As he is turned into a living warmachine during times of war, often carrying a ballista and a great mattock capable of tearing down the mightiest of fortresses, however, it is expensive to maintain Grok’s wartime equipment, so he usually only travels with a great Morningstar and a battle axe. Grok is fanaticaly loyal to his ‘friendly little talky men’ and the city as a whole, it is his home. It also fulfills the habit he picked up from his surrogate grey render parent, he has something to protect, and will violently maim, kill and eat (not necessarily in that order) anything that threatens it..

All this being said, Grok isn’t an ‘evil’ person, or creature, he simply follows his natural inclinations to worship his chosen diety, and to assuage his eternal hunger. He’s not even that dangerous to have around…. Provided of course, that he’s pointed safely at enemy lines. (all those banners and colors confuse grok sometimes, and he doesn’t recognize every soldier in the city on sight)

Our narrative picks up with gohk and grok being summoned by the ruler of the city, to follow up on rumors he has heard about an approaching orc army…..


THUMP THUMP THUMP!!! THUMP THUMP THUMP!!!
Gohk groaned and rolled over, trying to blot out the noise, Grok, as usual, snored on, ignoring the discomfort. THUMP THUMP THUMP!!! A man standing outside the door yells “Ghok!, the count wants to see you and Grok Immiedietly!!! THUMP THUMP THUMP. Groaning in complaint, ghok rolls off the bed and, for the 30th time, forgets he has the top bunk, and crashes to the ground, after bouncing of Grok’s belly, finally wakening him. Grok struggles to his feet, demolishing the bed in doing so (after having this happen the 5th time, the royal carpenter/masons came up with a bed designed to break in sections, so that it could easily be repaired, and yet sturdy enough to hold the emmense ogre). After struggling from his undignified heap on the floor, Gohk looks up at Grok and says “well com’on then Grok, mister big man in charge wants to see us.” With a rumbling voice like boulders down a mountain top, grok replies “fancy talky man need grok?” scratching his huge gut absently. “yes grok, Fancy talky man needs to see us”. Gohk then turns on his heel and swaggers from the room, followed by the thundering footsteps of his half ton companion.

After arriving at the “Head Talky Man”s court, Rosenthal, informs them of the rumours his scouts and rangers have been bringing him, an orc army may be on the move in this direction, but he needs confirmation, and gohk and grok are just the two people that can get close enough to the hoarde to confirm this, whilst still escaping with their lives. ‘before you leave’ Rosenthal says, ‘I need you to fetch me noble Richards, he and I- Rosenthal is cut off by Grok standing up straighter and bellowing “GROK FETCH TALKY MAN” and bolting from the room, causing a resounding BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Throughout the castle. – grok no wait! The entire court cries

But it is far to late, grok is very enthusiastic and already out of range of their cries, with an exasperated sigh, Gohk begins to swagger as quickly as possible after his companion, but realizing Grok will be back before he makes it to the front gates, he comes to a stop and gives the king an apologetic shrug.

Meanwhile, out in the city streets
BOOM BOOM BOOM, everybody in this section of town is familiar with the signs of an impending enthusicastic ogre, and quickly scurry out of the way. Grok thunders through the merchant quarter and into the nobles quarter, where he quickly locates the Richards household… and begins the process of retrieving noble Richard… by promptly smashing down a good segment of the first floor wall. he finds Noble Richard in his living room, (which was thankfully, just next to the room demolished by Grok)
Grok informs Noble Richards (and most of the surrounding countryside) “FANCY TALKY MAN WANT TO TALK TO TALKY MAN, TALKY MAN COME WITH GROK” so saying he (VERY GENTLY) picks up noble Richards, and begins his thundering path back to the king’s court….

BOOM BOOM BOOM!!!
Grok thunders through the castle, making his way back to the throne room. Upon his arrival grok sets down noble Richards very gently and announces to the court, in a voice like rumbling thunder “grok fetch little talky man!” and then moves off to the back of the room, and begins adjusting the straps holding the giant metal plate over his gut. With a rather chagrined look, Rosenthal asks noble Richards “how much this time?” with a rather bemused expression upon his face, Richards replies “not much milord, only the front wall this time, a major improvement if I say so myself”.
The talky men then began to discuss matters of state, and Grok quickly stopped paying attention, only devoting enough of his mind to recognize hearing his name, and otherwise thinking about how hungry he is.

After a few moments, Gohk appears in the door way and beckons grok to come with him… they proceed back to their room, where Gohk instructs Grok to grab all his “worshiping things” and come with him. They have orcs to kill…..



next time, I'll cover the 2nd half of this installment, the fight with the orcs. or "gnomes with lances make excellent guided javelins"

Traveler
2010-09-23, 09:54 PM
I love these. They really made my day better especially considering I lost my hat somewhere. Keep it up!

Lady Moreta
2010-09-24, 02:25 AM
The spell had finally come undone, snapping apart in a great flash of light that left Endeca holding a masterfully crafted silver spoon. All signs of battle stopped as she squeaked out, "Spoon?"

A spoon?! Oh that's priceless :smallbiggrin: she sounds cute, but scary.


and has also learned (sorta) to keep the amount of collateral damage down,

Teehee, this made me laugh. I love the idea of the big, lovable clumsy ogre.

Thoroughly enjoyed them both. And Traveler, I hope you find your hat :smallfrown:

My own latest attempt, also rather long. Some backstory for Silver that I can't show the rest of the group, because it touches on an aspect of her past that they don't know about.


A Change of Name

I hurt. Why do I hurt? Why was I even here? Where was here? My pain-fogged brain couldn’t seem to get past ‘I hurt’ to give me an answer. I forced my eyes open, squinting until the room came into focus. Pain wasn’t an unknown thing to me. I am a dancer, trained in the best elven tradition. I was used to tripping, stumbling and falling into the barre when learning a new dance. I was used to the ache of tired muscles. But this felt different. For one thing, it wasn’t my leg muscles that hurt. My abdomen was screaming fire at me, and my palms felt like they’d been shredded. I tipped my head sideways to get a better look at my hands, turning them palm up. They were shredded. Shredded with tiny crescent moons, all steadily oozing blood. Crescent moons? I’d done this to myself?

That triggered a flood. To yourself. To yourself. You’ve done this to yourself. Yourself. Yourself. yourselfyourselfyouryourselftoyourselfselftoyourse lf… Suddenly the pain was in my chest, and I couldn’t breath. Desperately I lifted my head and forced out words through the dryness of my mouth

“Where is-“

“Don’t worry about that now.” My mother’s voice, from somewhere above me. “It doesn’t matter. Rest” that last was issued with voice my mother used when she expected to be obeyed. It was a response so deeply ingrained in my psyche that I laid my head down without another further word. I could hear my mother’s voice above me, floating over my head. The light faded as a hand swept over my face, came back again as the hand moved on. Pressure landed briefly on my forehead, my mother’s hand holding something.

“Rest Nadriene” she told me. And I obeyed, sinking immediately into the soft oblivion of trance.

~~~~~~~

I awoke later, and simply lay still and silent for a time, enjoying the quiet. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong though. Something that should have been present, next to me. No. Someone. Two someones.

“Lianna? Lianna, where is my-?”

“Lianna is not here.” My mother’s voice again, cold as always when she spoke of Lianna. “She left.” My heart slammed into my throat. Lianna had gone? That was – impossible. Incomprehensible. She would never just leave me. She had been here for almost a year, the full nine months. Enduring patiently the stares and cruel words of my family. And that…

“Mother, where is-?”

“Enough Nadriene” she cut me off. “You need to rest.”

“I am done resting!” I snapped, finally getting angry. I shifted in the bed, pulling at the sheets to give me balance as I pulled myself into a sitting position. The bed smelled clean and crisp, warring with the remembered scents of blood and sweat and tears.

“Where. Is. My. Baby?” I bit off each word, furious. I never even saw the slap that rocked my head back, but I saw the look on my mother’s face as she came into view. She was mad. Beyond angry. Beyond furious. It must be her I get my temper from.

“Do not speak of that again” she said flatly, in the tone that said she would answer no more questions and I would be foolish to push her further.

I was foolish.

“Where is – it?” I choked on the last word, but if I could just be diplomatic, careful, maybe she would answer my questions. Throarlian was teaching me the nuances of diplomacy, it was time to see if the old elf knew what he was talking about. Mother glared at me, but seemed to realise that I would not just be silent. Would not be cowed by her disgust of anything not fully elven. Not this time.

“Lianna took it and left” she said shortly. “I don’t know why and I didn’t bother asking” she added, seeing me opening my mouth. That set me off. Not for a second did I believe my mother. Lianna wouldn’t do something like that, and my mother would certainly lie to me if it served her purposes. And it clearly served them to keep my baby from me. Because my baby isn’t fully elven.

“Which way did she go then?” I asked. I could follow her, find out what was going on. Mother looked at me with an expression, almost of pity.

“Nadriene” I am really starting to hate that name. “You need to rest. You must rest.” If I’d been thinking straight, I’d have recognised the threat in her voice, but her words had triggered my own fury.

“I don’t WANT to rest!” I yelled at her, “I want my baby and I want to know what you’ve done with my friend.” Mother’s dark green eyes flared and I knew I’d pushed her too far.

“The thing has gone. We will not destroy life, but we will not permit dilution. It will be left with others” she sneered the last word. Others. The Domoth word for ‘anyone who isn’t an elf’. My people were blind. I was blind. Blinded by inarticulate rage. Mother’s expression didn’t change, but she beckoned to someone hovering in the doorway. My cousin – Naeren. He walked in, stretching his fingers as he came to stand beside my bed.

“She needs to be quieted” he said mildly. Oh how I hated him.

“I do not want her hurt” oh, now she gets maternal. Naeren nodded, and leaned over towards me. I leaned away instinctively, not sure what he was about to do, but sure I wouldn’t like it. His long fingers, strong and calloused from using a longbow reached out for my neck. I went wild. I hissed and spat on his face, scratched his face and screamed in his ear as his hands wrapped firmly around my throat. I gagged and choked and howled – impotent and unavailing. I might as well have been the sea that slams uselessly against the rocks of the island. Naeren is stronger than I, he always has been. I felt my vision greying out, and instead focused my last piece of strength on his hated face, and spat my hatred into his face

“Bastard”

~~~~~~~~~~

I hurt. Why do I hurt? Why does my throat hurt?

Naeren.

My cousin, not a bastard in the technical sense of the term, but one in every other sense, had failed to understand one very important thing when he obeyed my mother and choked me into unconsciousness. I am tougher than I look. Thanks to my training as a dancer, I have endurance beyond what most elves are capable of. And most elves underestimate me. Right now it was going to save me.

I’d be damned if I was going to stay here a moment longer. They all expected me to simply shut my mouth and accept the determination of my family. They were the fools if they really believed that I would. Jerik had pinned me, had held me in the dance studio, had caused all of this. My family were determined to finish it. I was determined that it would not end here. Not now. Not like this.

There was a child out there, a – damn. Tears filled my eyes as I realised I didn’t even know if the baby was a boy or girl. Still, they would have something of me in them. Some mark I could use to recognise my own. I would find Lianna, and I would find the child. My family – they could stay here, in seclusion, in isolation. I would learn to survive without family. Men couldn’t be trusted. Elves couldn’t be trusted. Nadriene have to die; she would not survive on her own.

I am not an adult yet, but I will become one. I will choose my own name, one that no one may take from me. A name that ties me to the history of my people, when they were not so cold or unfeeling as they are now. A name that speaks to my new identity – I am a dancer. I will return to the Arieathus and insist on finishing my course. I will become – Arinatria. The silver dancer.

I am Arinatria Siannodel.

Now. How the hell do I get out of here?

big teej
2010-09-24, 10:11 AM
loveable?:smalltongue:
I most definitly have never thought of grok as 'lovable'.

though I suppose 'lovable' may be an appropriate term for him. as far as HIS townspeople go....

lovable is most definitly NOT a word used by the orcs or other towns who have had the misfortune of watching him fight, or even greater misfortune of fighting him.


anyways =]

excellent work as always lady moreta.

Ravens_Wing
2010-09-25, 10:03 PM
Man this is an awsome thread!

I love the character of Silver and would like to hear more tales with her in them. You just make her come to life.

I need to write some of my character stories down as well.

Good Job all.

Lady Moreta
2010-09-28, 01:50 AM
loveable?:smalltongue:
I most definitly have never thought of grok as 'lovable'.

Maybe 'cute' is a better word then :smallsmile:


Man this is an awsome thread!

I love the character of Silver and would like to hear more tales with her in them. You just make her come to life.

Thank you :smallsmile: it's good to know all the practice is paying off.


I need to write some of my character stories down as well.

Yes, you absolutely should! :smallsmile:

I have written another one, but it's on my laptop so I'll have to wait til I get home to post it.

Lord_Gareth
2010-09-30, 02:58 AM
Innocence
Or: When Evil is not
It was not turning out to be a good night for anyone except, perhaps, Hatch, who was sleeping the deep sleep of the innocent on her camp mat. She'd almost persuaded us to pitch real tents before Es reminded us that we needed to cannibalize them for patch-work on our clothing. The spare cloth had been burned in our last battle when Endeca used its satchel as a holder for her alchemist's fire.

The newest edition to our group was some manner of experimental construct - a clockwork man, ticking and clicking near us. I didn't like him. I still don't - too cold. Too unreal. Dedicated to his god, certainly, and capable of great feats of prowess in battle thanks to his faith. But his heart beat to a wizard's march, not to Mother Nature's. He was staring at Hatch, glass eyes unblinking.

She killed three innocents with that maneuver.

"I know," I said wearily. "She usually does. I was happy at merely three, to be honest. May they rest with the Goddess until rebirth comes."

She has done this before?

"Often, Pendulum. Very often. She doesn't mean to. Hatch doesn't even know what she's doing, half the time. I don't even know what she's doing half the time. Thank the Lord of Might that she hasn't had an episode in weeks. The last one leveled an entire village. Two hundred lives, gone in less than ten seconds, and there's Hatch, blinking at the ashes and proposing to make mud pies the moment she finds a riverbed that isn't dry and scorched."

Hatch turned in her sleep and moaned pathetically, and I had to resist the urge to touch her shoulder and try to comfort her. Touching Endeca while she was sleeping provoked episodes.

She is sleeping, druid. Why do we not kill her and spare the innocent lives she would claim?

I gave Pendulum a good, hard look and spoke quietly, perhaps more harshly than I had intended to.

"Pendulum, you see before you a rare being. An innocent. A real innocent. Not a naive mortal waiting to have the veil torn from her eyes. Innocence isn't like that, really. It's forged from horror, and pain, and desperation, and the bright, fierce, hope that tomorrow will bring something different. Something better. I don't know what happened to Hatch, but she doesn't deserve worse. She needs help, crusader. Not murder."

Surely the same can be said of the residents of that village?

"Would your god damn them solely for having been murdered, crusader?"

"I'm not going back!"

I was at Hatch's side in an instant as she bolted upright, making shushing noises and speaking softly in Elvish. I didn't quite understand her dialect, but mine was evidently comprehensible to her, for her panicked breathing slowed down, then settled back into sleep.

"Pendulum, my people do not sleep naturally. Endeca has gone through much pain and training to violate our physiology in such a manner, and the only reason for her to do so would be to escape her past. To forsake her being entirely. Something happened to her, four years ago, that has completely redefined her, to the point where the girl she was before does not exist. That girl is dead. But do the gods know that? And should we really leave the choice to them?"

The gods are righteous.

I looked at Hatch's face, troubled in sleep as it never was when she woke.

"Are they?"

Lady Moreta
2010-09-30, 03:23 AM
Innocence
Or: When Evil is not
"Pendulum, you see before you a rare being. An innocent. A real innocent. Not a naive mortal waiting to have the veil torn from her eyes. Innocence isn't like that, really. It's forged from horror, and pain, and desperation, and the bright, fierce, hope that tomorrow will bring something different. Something better. I don't know what happened to Hatch, but she doesn't deserve worse. She needs help, crusader. Not murder."

Ouch. Just - ouch.

That was fantastic.

I love the above quote. Brilliant piece of writing. Wish I could write that - inspirationally.

She's so very - pathetic, in a terrifying way. It breaks my heart, and at the same time makes me want to stay very far away from her. I have the highest esteem for the druid telling the story (whose name I'm afraid, I have forgotten). I think I want to hug him more than her.

Wonderful piece Gareth, beautifully emotional.

Lord_Gareth
2010-09-30, 03:31 AM
Sadly, I seem capable of that only when dealing with messed up characters. The druid, incidentally, is a Jungle Elf named Hathar.

If folks are interested, I can continue with some 'Deca snippets, but posting them is making me want to play her again >.>

And I lost the stats for CHAOS DIMENSION

Lady Moreta
2010-09-30, 06:24 AM
Sadly, I seem capable of that only when dealing with messed up characters. The druid, incidentally, is a Jungle Elf named Hathar.

If folks are interested, I can continue with some 'Deca snippets, but posting them is making me want to play her again >.>

And I lost the stats for CHAOS DIMENSION

Hathar! That's right. Because the first time I read it I thought of Hathor. I watch too much Stargate.

Oh please sir, can I have some more? :smalltongue: I don't want you to feel lonely for her, but I think I'm in love :smallsmile:

Also, the chaos dimension is hurting my eyes :smalltongue:

And finally, my latest snippet...


The Fire Elemental
or Uh-Oh...

The fire elemental. We forgot about the fire elemental. Well, no, we didn’t really, we just weren’t expecting it to turn up now. I think we’d all been hoping it would stay out of the way until we’d taken care of the senior mages. So much for that grand plan. The others are right behind me, waiting for me to say something to get us out of this. Trouble is, I’m not sure if a fire elemental can be bluffed. No time to worry about it now woman, it’s time.

I cast a glance over my shoulder, twisting my features into an expression of fear and some loathing. Done partly to begin the illusion that we were being chased, and partly to ensure Lester was far enough behind us to make the ruse believable. He was behind us, sword in hand; his own face showing a righteous anger. Not bad. I filled my lungs with air and let loose a scream, all terror and rage and anger and hatred – it was a thing of cold beauty.

“The paladin!” I cried, “the paladin is chasing us!” it seemed a trifle overdone, but I doubt very much that fire elementals are particularly sophisticated. The elemental stared down at me from a very great height. Good goddess, that thing is massive – and hot. Very hot. I waved my hands in its face, trying to draw its attention to me and not the others.

“The paladin!” I screamed into its face, “he’s right behind us! Do something!”

Those appeared to have been the magic words for the fire elemental charged so suddenly I had only enough time to throw my hands over my face for protection before it was past. A series of higher and lower pitched yells and curse words told me the others were being similarly singed.

It went straight for Lester, who raised his longsword and gave vent to a mighty roar.

“Back foul creature!” he roared, in what I can only describe as a ‘great voice’.

And yet, this entire ruse was planned to get us close to the mages, not the flaming fire elemental. None of us, Nera included, had ever intended for Lester to go toe-to-toe with the elemental on his own.

“I am here to take these evil creatures and chastise them!”

Well, that was unexpected. That man can really yell when he puts his mind to it. More importantly, I knew now what he was doing. Exactly what the plan was for. He was giving us the time we needed. Fear wasn’t so difficult to feign this time as I grabbed Tanc’s tunic and pulled hard.

“Come on! While he’s distracted. Let’s go!” I raised my voice effortlessly into the higher registers of pure terror. Tanc stared at me, his expression hard and fierce. I gave him a quick nod and jerked my head towards the door I assumed now led into the kitchen. He pulled his disguised face into what I assume was meant to be an expression of fear, but which had me desperately trying not to laugh. He saw me trying not to laugh and grinned at me. Then he winked and disappeared.

He’d warned us about this new trick of his, but my it was something to see. Any shadow he’d said, and he could disappear. Just a little trick he’d picked up from our sojourn on the Plane of Shadows. Neat trick.

We shoved through the open doorway together, it was unintentional, but served to give the impression we were fighting each other to reach safety. Rifus stumbled forwards into the room before catching himself, while I grabbed the doorway and yanked myself to a halt just inside. I have no idea where Tanc was, but I felt something brush my sleeve heading towards the wall.

There was a mage standing in the opposite doorway. He said nothing at first, just stared at us, looking somewhere between exasperated and disgusted.

<Rifus says it’s the same guy from upstairs. The one who nearly killed Tanc.> Nera’s voice came directly into my head. I stared at the mage, who stared right back at me. I gulped, glanced down at my feet, then lifted my head again. Message received.

“The paladin” I gasped, letting my head drop and bending double as if out of breath. “He- he found us, is chasing us. The fire elemental...”

Still nothing. The mage gave Rifus a disgusted look as he staggered and stumbled forwards, with much looking his shoulder in fear.

“Get upstairs and get out” he snapped finally. “You shouldn’t be here anyway.”

I nodded, quickly urgently, no desire to argue here. None at all.

“May-” I stopped cast a fearful look over my shoulder. “May we use the stairs?”

He glared at me with such anger I felt suddenly relieved that the woman whose face I was wearing was already dead. If we somehow failed, I wouldn’t want to be her.

“The belltower stairs. Now.”

No mistaking the menace in that voice. I backed up a step, facing the mage, but my eyes looked sideways – at where I thought Tanc was standing. The briefest flicker of movement. He nodded. He was ready. I turned and shoved at the others with my hands

“Go!” I said urgently. “Let’s go” hopefully Nera and Rifus have traveled with me long enough to realise that means ‘let’s go and let Tanc do his thing’.

We hastily backed out of the kitchen, moving towards the belltower staircase just to our right. I could easily imagine the smile on Tanc’s face. I had to imagine his predatory stalking, as he moved so quietly that I couldn’t hear him, even though he was right behind me.

The wall provided us with cover as I reached out and opened the door to the bell tower but didn’t go through. It was unlikely Tanc would take too long anyway. We waited in tense silence, listened to the mage huff exasperatedly and the sound of footsteps.

A grunt. A huffing of expelled breath. A thud. Another thud and a thump.

Finally, a low chuckle and Tanc’s voice

“Come on in guys.”

Rifus and Nera grinned at each other and me, turning towards the open doorway. I followed them, but as I did, my gaze fell on the hallway. There were scorch marks on the floor and walls as testament to the fire elemental’s passage; but nothing else. I stared down the way as if I could somehow divine what had happened here. I’d been so intent on making the mage believe every word I said that any sound from here had been completely blocked.

I recognised the sound of Rifus’ favoured weapon – his eldritch blast. I also recognised the sound of his favoured curse when it went astray.

I grimaced in the direction the fire elemental and Lester had taken and turned away to join my friends. Even as I went to join the fray, to finally rid the world of a group that definitely needed riddance, I couldn’t help but wonder aloud

“I hope we haven’t killed Lester.”

big teej
2010-09-30, 01:48 PM
Hathar! That's right. Because the first time I read it I thought of Hathor. I watch too much Stargate.

Oh please sir, can I have some more? :smalltongue: I don't want you to feel lonely for her, but I think I'm in love :smallsmile:

Also, the chaos dimension is hurting my eyes :smalltongue:

And finally, my latest snippet...


The Fire Elemental
or Uh-Oh...

The fire elemental. We forgot about the fire elemental. Well, no, we didn’t really, we just weren’t expecting it to turn up now. I think we’d all been hoping it would stay out of the way until we’d taken care of the senior mages. So much for that grand plan. The others are right behind me, waiting for me to say something to get us out of this. Trouble is, I’m not sure if a fire elemental can be bluffed. No time to worry about it now woman, it’s time.

I cast a glance over my shoulder, twisting my features into an expression of fear and some loathing. Done partly to begin the illusion that we were being chased, and partly to ensure Lester was far enough behind us to make the ruse believable. He was behind us, sword in hand; his own face showing a righteous anger. Not bad. I filled my lungs with air and let loose a scream, all terror and rage and anger and hatred – it was a thing of cold beauty.

“The paladin!” I cried, “the paladin is chasing us!” it seemed a trifle overdone, but I doubt very much that fire elementals are particularly sophisticated. The elemental stared down at me from a very great height. Good goddess, that thing is massive – and hot. Very hot. I waved my hands in its face, trying to draw its attention to me and not the others.

“The paladin!” I screamed into its face, “he’s right behind us! Do something!”

Those appeared to have been the magic words for the fire elemental charged so suddenly I had only enough time to throw my hands over my face for protection before it was past. A series of higher and lower pitched yells and curse words told me the others were being similarly singed.

It went straight for Lester, who raised his longsword and gave vent to a mighty roar.

“Back foul creature!” he roared, in what I can only describe as a ‘great voice’.

And yet, this entire ruse was planned to get us close to the mages, not the flaming fire elemental. None of us, Nera included, had ever intended for Lester to go toe-to-toe with the elemental on his own.

“I am here to take these evil creatures and chastise them!”

Well, that was unexpected. That man can really yell when he puts his mind to it. More importantly, I knew now what he was doing. Exactly what the plan was for. He was giving us the time we needed. Fear wasn’t so difficult to feign this time as I grabbed Tanc’s tunic and pulled hard.

“Come on! While he’s distracted. Let’s go!” I raised my voice effortlessly into the higher registers of pure terror. Tanc stared at me, his expression hard and fierce. I gave him a quick nod and jerked my head towards the door I assumed now led into the kitchen. He pulled his disguised face into what I assume was meant to be an expression of fear, but which had me desperately trying not to laugh. He saw me trying not to laugh and grinned at me. Then he winked and disappeared.

He’d warned us about this new trick of his, but my it was something to see. Any shadow he’d said, and he could disappear. Just a little trick he’d picked up from our sojourn on the Plane of Shadows. Neat trick.

We shoved through the open doorway together, it was unintentional, but served to give the impression we were fighting each other to reach safety. Rifus stumbled forwards into the room before catching himself, while I grabbed the doorway and yanked myself to a halt just inside. I have no idea where Tanc was, but I felt something brush my sleeve heading towards the wall.

There was a mage standing in the opposite doorway. He said nothing at first, just stared at us, looking somewhere between exasperated and disgusted.

<Rifus says it’s the same guy from upstairs. The one who nearly killed Tanc.> Nera’s voice came directly into my head. I stared at the mage, who stared right back at me. I gulped, glanced down at my feet, then lifted my head again. Message received.

“The paladin” I gasped, letting my head drop and bending double as if out of breath. “He- he found us, is chasing us. The fire elemental...”

Still nothing. The mage gave Rifus a disgusted look as he staggered and stumbled forwards, with much looking his shoulder in fear.

“Get upstairs and get out” he snapped finally. “You shouldn’t be here anyway.”

I nodded, quickly urgently, no desire to argue here. None at all.

“May-” I stopped cast a fearful look over my shoulder. “May we use the stairs?”

He glared at me with such anger I felt suddenly relieved that the woman whose face I was wearing was already dead. If we somehow failed, I wouldn’t want to be her.

“The belltower stairs. Now.”

No mistaking the menace in that voice. I backed up a step, facing the mage, but my eyes looked sideways – at where I thought Tanc was standing. The briefest flicker of movement. He nodded. He was ready. I turned and shoved at the others with my hands

“Go!” I said urgently. “Let’s go” hopefully Nera and Rifus have traveled with me long enough to realise that means ‘let’s go and let Tanc do his thing’.

We hastily backed out of the kitchen, moving towards the belltower staircase just to our right. I could easily imagine the smile on Tanc’s face. I had to imagine his predatory stalking, as he moved so quietly that I couldn’t hear him, even though he was right behind me.

The wall provided us with cover as I reached out and opened the door to the bell tower but didn’t go through. It was unlikely Tanc would take too long anyway. We waited in tense silence, listened to the mage huff exasperatedly and the sound of footsteps.

A grunt. A huffing of expelled breath. A thud. Another thud and a thump.

Finally, a low chuckle and Tanc’s voice

“Come on in guys.”

Rifus and Nera grinned at each other and me, turning towards the open doorway. I followed them, but as I did, my gaze fell on the hallway. There were scorch marks on the floor and walls as testament to the fire elemental’s passage; but nothing else. I stared down the way as if I could somehow divine what had happened here. I’d been so intent on making the mage believe every word I said that any sound from here had been completely blocked.

I recognised the sound of Rifus’ favoured weapon – his eldritch blast. I also recognised the sound of his favoured curse when it went astray.

I grimaced in the direction the fire elemental and Lester had taken and turned away to join my friends. Even as I went to join the fray, to finally rid the world of a group that definitely needed riddance, I couldn’t help but wonder aloud

“I hope we haven’t killed Lester.”

first.......
loving the little munchkin-child of epic magics
love it love it love it

second.....
the prismatic runes
they ache........

third....
I liked this snippet

fourth....
birthday stuff permitting, I plan to type up either
- part 2 of installment 1 of gohk and grok
- origin of the skulltaker
- origin of the smoulderbeard
- backstory/origin of my cleric of khaine (which is the character I plan to play when I step down from DMing
- backstory/origin of Valek Knifebeard
- a concept that was inspired by Akherousia by draconian: a knight searching for his looking for his betrothed who simply vanished one night
(don't ask WHY that song inspired the character...... it just did, I don't know why)

alsoyes, I am aware thats a cliche..... but that is simply the summary of his character....there is... more -devil face-

Lady Moreta
2010-09-30, 09:26 PM
third....
I liked this snippet

Thank you :smallsmile:


fourth....
birthday stuff permitting, I plan to type up either
- part 2 of installment 1 of gohk and grok
- origin of the skulltaker
- origin of the smoulderbeard
- backstory/origin of my cleric of khaine (which is the character I plan to play when I step down from DMing
- backstory/origin of Valek Knifebeard
- a concept that was inspired by Akherousia by draconian: a knight searching for his looking for his betrothed who simply vanished one night
(don't ask WHY that song inspired the character...... it just did, I don't know why)

That's - a lot of options. I'm stuck for inspiration again :smallsigh:

And birthday stuff? is it your birthday? :smallsmile:

0Megabyte
2010-09-30, 09:36 PM
Lady Moreta:

Your snippet about the backstory was lovely. Keep this stuff going!

big teej
2010-09-30, 09:43 PM
Thank you :smallsmile:



That's - a lot of options. I'm stuck for inspiration again :smallsigh:

And birthday stuff? is it your birthday? :smallsmile:

maybe I can unstick you again....
what part has you stuck?



also, yes, it is indeed my birthday :smalltongue:
I try not to mention it..... but I was absent minded.....
oopsies
:smallfrown:

Lady Moreta
2010-09-30, 10:53 PM
Lady Moreta:

Your snippet about the backstory was lovely. Keep this stuff going!

Thank you :smallsmile: It's nice to have a place to post the backstory for Silver, because she doesn't talk about it, and no one in the group she's with knows it happened. Meaning I can't show them. (We have a community on Epic Words, where the rest of the snippets have gone.)


maybe I can unstick you again....
what part has you stuck?

All of it :smalltongue: Actually, part of it is the fact that I don't feel all that well, and haven't since Wednesday (and for those in a different timezone to me, it's now midday Friday). I think I pulled a muscle in my chest because it's really very painful :smallfrown: Other than that, I've once again run into the wall called "what do I write about next?"

I kind of feel like doing some more of the full novelisation of the game, but for that I need the notebook I've been writing in, my game notes, and the sketch pad I'm using to map out the fights (because my notes are almost impossible to follow without some sort of visual aid). I can't do up the soldier reports for Lirrin, because once again, I need my game notes.

Current ideas:

Lirrin writes another letter home - this time to her brother
Backstory for Lirrin - why she left home and moved to the city (problem with this is that she has no backstory, so I'd have to make that up first
More of Silver's backstory
The Fire Elemental scene again, from Lester's perspective


Just struggling to find enthusiasm at the moment.


also, yes, it is indeed my birthday :smalltongue:
I try not to mention it..... but I was absent minded.....
oopsies
:smallfrown:

Well, happy birthday anyway :smallsmile: I would make you a cake, but it'd get squashed in the mail :smalltongue:

Lord_Gareth
2010-09-30, 11:43 PM
I really would avoid the perspective swaps. No need to write Midnight Sun, now.

I'd love to see some background for Lirrin, myself.

Up and coming from Gareth:

Snuggles
Or: You Can't Save Them All

Episodes
Or: I Won't Go Back

Legendary
Or: The Life and Times of Francis Quillen, the Sword Saint

Lady Moreta
2010-10-01, 12:21 AM
I really would avoid the perspective swaps. No need to write Midnight Sun, now.

You are probably right. I can't do it anyway, with the whole 'being at work' thing. But what the hang is Midnight Sun?


I'd love to see some background for Lirrin, myself.

Done. :smallsmile: the data entry I'm currently working on is mind-numbing, so I've been thinking about her and working out backstory in my head. I was planning to just go 'what do you want me to write?' and then you went and answered the question anyway! :smallbiggrin:

Lord_Gareth
2010-10-01, 12:23 AM
...I'm glad you've been spared the knowledge. Midnight Sun is a re-write of Twilight from THE DEMON - I mean, Edward's perspective. If you haven't read Twilight, don't. The author does not deserve your money.

Which of those three would you like to see written first - of the ones I suggested, that is?

Marillion
2010-10-01, 01:15 AM
Stay tuned for


A Death in the Family
Or, How A Castillian Man Says Thank You

Lady Moreta
2010-10-01, 02:50 AM
Which of those three would you like to see written first - of the ones I suggested, that is?

Snuggles please :smallsmile: I want to know how she ended up with an Intellect Devourer as a familiar.


Stay tuned for


A Death in the Family
Or, How A Castillian Man Says Thank You

Oooh, is this another tale of Valiente Rafael Luis Zepata del Tor...? 'Cause I like him :smallsmile:

Lord_Gareth
2010-10-01, 04:03 AM
Snuggles
Or: You Can't Save Them All

One almost finds the idea of a powerful troll wizard laughable, but the proof was slowly regenerating from its wounds in front of us, lying prostrate on the ground. Es coolly stabbed it again with her rapier, opening yet another hole in its useless, yet still healing lungs while Hatch investigated the room through a stone that had a natural hole in it. Questions as to whether or not the stone helped in her spell-work had not been asked. We'd all learned a long time ago that we would regret the answers, if only for the sheer indignity of it all.

Hatch muttered something and waved one gloved hand dismissively, causing an entire wall to vanish, revealing lines of cages where it once stood. Most of the cages contained corpses, but one of them contained a weak, sickly dog-sized thing with a brain instead of a head. An intellect devourer. Hatch got a look of pain on her face and both Es and Pendulum started forward.

"Quit it! All of you!"

Endeca's shout halted both of our compatriots in their tracks as she made soothing noises at the aberration. The pain lanced across her face again, and she gave it a harsh shushing sound before reaching her hand through the cage bars.

"Hatch, that thing is going to kill you and eat your brain! Get away from it!"

"No he won't. Look at him, Hathar. He's starving and miserable and lonely. Es, open the lock. Please?"

Es looked at me, but all I could do was nod. Endeca had gotten a notion in her head, and only the thing knocking her unconscious would let us do the smart thing safely. Es broke the lock with one blow from her sword-hilt and Hatch immediately opened the cage, reaching inwards. The intellect devourer raked a set of claws on her arm, but she didn't even notice as she grabbed its feeble body in her hands and drew it out. Hatch cuddled the abomination close and looked up at me, green eyes bright and welling with tears.

"He's hurt. We should help him."

He is an evil abomination. The best aid we could give him is a mercy stroke and last rites.

The brain-headed thing hissed at Pendulum and Hatch glared at the construct disapprovingly.

"Endeca, those things eat only brains. Sapient brains. How are you going to feed it?"

Hatch kicked the unconscious troll in the head, "He's gotta die anyway, right? Why not let Snuggles eat his brain? It's not like he's gonna use it."

Snuggles? You've named that atrocity?

"Yes! His name is Snuggles and he's my friend now, and I'll teach him how to behave, and love him, and feed him, and everything, and you can't stop me, so there!"

She let go of the aberration, which began burrowing its way into the troll's skull, seeking the meaty brains within.

"Hatch," I said quietly to her, "you know you can't save them all, right? You can't help everyone."

"I can't?" Her eyes were all wide and teary. She looked confused. Hurt. I shook my head and she turned to look at her new friend, 'Snuggles'.

"Then I'll help this one. And the next one. And as many as I can until there's no more left to help. I can do that, 'cause I've got magic and money and you guys. If I can't help everyone than I'll just help anyone I can. Isn't that what Pendulum is always talking about?"

Pendulum looked at her thoughtfully before turning back to watching our newest addition. His words were nearly inaudible.

Yes, I suppose it is.

Lady Moreta
2010-10-01, 04:57 AM
"Then I'll help this one. And the next one. And as many as I can until there's no more left to help. I can do that, 'cause I've got magic and money and you guys. If I can't help everyone than I'll just help anyone I can. Isn't that what Pendulum is always talking about?"

...*blinkblink*...

*melts into a little pile of cute-induced goo*

Awwwwwww

She's so very adorable, and yet so very dangerous... and I just want to hug her :smallsmile:

Werekat
2010-10-01, 07:37 AM
Lady Moreta, Lord Gareth - great snippets! They're a fun read, and you start caring about the characters very-very quickly.

Lady Moreta, you asked for criticism of you third-person story. One constant mistake is in comma usage: http://grammartips.homestead.com/inside.html

Basically, you need a comma most cases before closing quotations if the sentence continues, and a period where it does not and there is no other punctuation. For instance, here:


“He is such an idiot,” she muttered under her breath, “and he's jolly lucky he was still in range.”

Mostly, though, I really like your writing: the beginning of the story is somewhat slower due to necessary introductions - like explaining party roles - but I find that it helped me understand your prior snippets. For instance, I couldn't figure out at a glance that Nera was a sorceress before reading this part.

I kind of got lost on the moths - a bit too much explicit talking, if you ask me. But I don't really know how to do it better without skipping the scene altogether. I can't get what you were trying to show with the moths - how Nera acts (done, and done well)? Whether the enemies they face are dangerous? How the party acts in general?

No fancy formatting is good, though. Much easier to read that way. :)

Lady Moreta
2010-10-01, 08:22 AM
Lady Moreta, you asked for criticism of you third-person story. One constant mistake is in comma usage: http://grammartips.homestead.com/inside.html

Basically, you need a comma most cases before closing quotations if the sentence continues, and a period where it does not and there is no other punctuation. For instance, here:

Thank you. Commas are the bane of my existence :smallsigh:


I kind of got lost on the moths - a bit too much explicit talking, if you ask me. But I don't really know how to do it better without skipping the scene altogether. I can't get what you were trying to show with the moths - how Nera acts (done, and done well)? Whether the enemies they face are dangerous? How the party acts in general?

I freely admit, the moths part wasn't well written. The problem was that I started in an awkward place (primarily because there was an awesome fight at the end of it). We'd also fought the moths before, so the characters knew all about them, but the writing of it didn't flow very well.

The moths were stupid, but as you say, I couldn't figure out how else to write it. I plan to go over the first part of the story and redo it all. But thank you, it helps :smallsmile:

Werekat
2010-10-01, 08:43 AM
Thank you. Commas are the bane of my existence :smallsigh:

I know your plight. :) I have been translating to English for a living for years now, and I still look up the comma rules. Even worse is that they are "situational" in many cases, unlike in my native language - so now, having gotten used to English punctuation, I have to look up commas in Russian, as well, and there's a lot more of them.


I freely admit, the moths part wasn't well written. The problem was that I started in an awkward place (primarily because there was an awesome fight at the end of it). We'd also fought the moths before, so the characters knew all about them, but the writing of it didn't flow very well.

The moths were stupid, but as you say, I couldn't figure out how else to write it. I plan to go over the first part of the story and redo it all. But thank you, it helps :smallsmile:

*looks over text again*

I think I might see one of the problems. You jump from Silver to Tanc a lot, and somewhat unpredictably. It's hard to figure out who's head you are supposed to be in at the moment. Your original focus is Tanc, and then suddenly we're hearing Silver's thoughts, and then back to Tanc again. The classic solution to this is either showing everyone's thoughts from the very beginning (though damn hard to do well with a big party like yours), or keeping it one focal character per scene. It's hard to do two or more well, but it can be done.

Lady Moreta
2010-10-01, 08:32 PM
I know your plight. :) I have been translating to English for a living for years now, and I still look up the comma rules. Even worse is that they are "situational" in many cases, unlike in my native language - so now, having gotten used to English punctuation, I have to look up commas in Russian, as well, and there's a lot more of them.

I'll freely admit, the grammar is not such an issue for me - mostly because I know it's not 100% correct and I just don't care. But also because I know I can hand anything I've written to my husband and say "don't tell me about it, just go through and fix the grammar and punctuation". He is good at such things, and a real pedant, so I have no fears that all such problems can be fixed. When I get around to it :smalltongue:


I think I might see one of the problems. You jump from Silver to Tanc a lot, and somewhat unpredictably. It's hard to figure out who's head you are supposed to be in at the moment. Your original focus is Tanc, and then suddenly we're hearing Silver's thoughts, and then back to Tanc again. The classic solution to this is either showing everyone's thoughts from the very beginning (though damn hard to do well with a big party like yours), or keeping it one focal character per scene. It's hard to do two or more well, but it can be done.

This is possibly due to the fact that Silver was the one who cast message and is acting as the message relay centre. Which is where the lack of formatting comes in. All the parts that were coming through the message spell were in a different font to differentiate them from normal conversation.

I like your suggestion about not swapping between the two though. I shall have to reread it myself (eventually) and have another look. Thanks :smallsmile:

darkpuppy
2010-10-01, 09:45 PM
Hrm. So much to tell, so little time... working on some more tales, from DnD (AGGGGHHHH!, or Never Underestimate a Deity's Sense of Humour, among others), to Hackmaster (The Pixie Fairy Who Thought She Could (And The Thief Who Thought He Was) and Star Wars (I'm finally going to put the tale of the Infamous Force Speed Wheelbarrow in narrative form!)

Absolutely loving Hatch, those are incredibly well written tales!

Lady Moreta
2010-10-01, 10:20 PM
Force speed wheelbarrow? That sounds - fun :smallbiggrin:

I look forward to it.

darkpuppy
2010-10-01, 10:30 PM
AGGGGHHHH!
or, Never Underestimate a Deity's Sense of Humour

As the rubble that used to be a sewer entrance settled behind them, Mardic the Brave, warrior for hire, turned to his companion, Tharek Brightflame. He was, to say the least, incensed, because all of this had been Tharek's idea. They were stuck, in Waterdeep's sewers, with no way out except through.

"So let me get this straight," asked Mardic testily "Your god, Vergadain, personally asked you to join us because you were too proud? If we defeat this 'Xanathar', whoever he is, we'll be the Heroes of Waterdeep, by Tymora, and he summoned you to help us because you were too proud?"

Tharek, a cleric of Vergadain, shrugged, and began to speak. Although generally quiet, he seemed to be passionate enough about the subject to speak. "Well, you should never underestimate a deity's sense of humour, Mardic. Although the clergy of my faith are powerful, we don't ask for much, because we're never quite sure what we'll get. Of course," he continued, looking a bit glum "Sometimes Vergadain gives us what our hearts desire, and show us there's better profit elsewhere. The real problem is-"

He had stopped, because, peering myopically at the pair from the corridor ahead was a kobold. It was, at the moment, uncertain whether it had been noticed, and was gently trying to edge away. Mardic had also noticed the creature, but, unlike Tharek, was more amused than nonplussed. Nudging his companion, he whispered "Watch this!" and, without further ado, began charging at the kobold with a bloodcurdling shriek. Rather naturally, the timid creature took to its heels, and, before Tharek could say anything, Mardic had charged into the darkness, torch in one hand, sword in the other, wailing like a banshee.

Tharek sighed. He wasn't actually sure that lumping him with a bloodthirsty idiot like Mardic had been part of the joke, but he somehow assumed it was. He was dirty, crude, had little intelligence, and saw those less violent than himself as sport. In short, Mardic was a thug, and a boastful one at that. Trudging through the slimy waters, Tharek considered his lot, pondering as he tried to follow the human's screaming. Vergadain, he thought I know I've asked for a lot recently, but please let me at least have some humour of my very own, eh?

As if on cue, Tharek heard a quick succession of noises. Firstly, from over one shoulder, he heard the deep belly laugh of a dwarf. Immediately afterwards, there came a sharp twanging, the splash and hiss of a torch falling and being extinguished, copious swearing, and a sibilant tittering around the next corner. Suddenly grinning, he thanked Vergadain for his mercy, and sprinted around the corner. There, clear as day to his dwarven eyes, was Mardic the Brave, cursing mightily and struggling between two nets, suspended halfway between the grimy muck and the ceiling while a small group of kobolds poked him with sharp wooden sticks. He was not being injured, but he was most definitely in more trouble than he had reckoned for. Chuckling inwardly, Tharek acted almost on instinct.

The group of kobolds saw the stout humanoid in plate raise his mace, and call a bright light from nowhere, laughing maniacally as the cold blue light shone down upon his face. Superstitious creatures, they fled, leaving the reckless warrior, still struggling and swearing, along with their spears. Tharek's shining mace swung down, its tines biting through the hempen ropes holding Mardic hostage, and he fell to the stagnant water, immediately coming up even smellier and filthier than he was before. Tharek didn't think he could ever stop laughing, but soon regained control, and, still chuckling, reached into the muck, pulled out Mardic's sword, and handed it to him with a smirking bow.

"See, Mardic? Never underestimate a deity's sense of humour!"

Mardic just scowled.

That was a bit knocked-out, as it were, but still gets the gist of it across. Names were changed, partly because it was so long ago I've forgotten the characters' names, but also because I'd like to be a little fair on the player who did, as the story says, get outwitted by a kobold...

Lady Moreta
2010-10-02, 02:26 AM
Heehee, that was funny :smallsmile:

A nice bit of laughter to distract from all our seriousness. I like it :smallsmile:

darkpuppy
2010-10-02, 08:04 AM
Unorthodox Solutions

or The Infamous Force Speed Wheelbarrow

Nayell Darhan was worried, no two ways about it. He had some hokey magic ability called the Force, and it meant that he could never show his face anywhere the Empire held sway. On top of that, he'd joined some ragtag rebellion, and, in the quest for freedom for the galaxy (whatever that means), he had been sent with his cell to some back-assward planet in the middle of the Fringe, to rescue some ambassador who had an Imperial Seize and Detain on his head. The fringe world part he didn't mind so much, but the Imperial Seize and Detain? That had always been, during Nayell's life, another way of saying "This guy is going to vanish, and if you stop us, we'll vanish you too."

So yeah, he wasn't exactly feeling confident. The rest were alright, they'd been with the rebellion for years, but he'd literally joined up by accident, or, more accurately, bad luck. Will of the Force? Whoever the heck said that was an idiot. Still, at least the mansion was nice. The world was primitive, and it seemed the best gardens in the universe were all hand rolled and cut for several decades, like this one. The mansion itself looked like something out of a holo, and the ambassador himself was pretty cool. Of course, anything could-

"AMBASSADOR LAREN, YOU ARE ORDERED TO GIVE YOURSELF UP TO THE MERCY OF THE EMPEROR!"

Ohhhh, sithspit thought Nayell, as he turned from the porch of the mansion. The gateway was... was... filled with stormtroopers, and from the sounds of it, the Empire had mobilised a full garrison for this one man. Why me? Force take this, WHY?. The rest of the cell were already unlimbering their blaster rifles, and the ambassador was cowering behind them. Nayell had, no sithing, a stick. Sure, it hit harder than normal sticks and didn't break for some reason, but it was still, when you came down to it, a big stick. Against an entire batallion of stormtroopers. No, no, no, and no again. There had to be another solution.

Nothing, nothing, nothing... and then, with an almost insane clarity, it struck him. The Force can improve a stick, make it hit faster and harder... why not a person?

Without warning, he purposefully stalked to the back of the group, and whispered urgently in Ambassador Laren's ear. "This is a pretty neat garden. Maintained by hand?" The ambassador looked shellshocked, and gaped at Nayell as if he was insane. Which, to Nayell, half made sense. But, after a few seconds, the Ambassador spoke.

"Errr, yes. But what does that have to do with anything?"

Nayell didn't answer, merely looked around. Seeing exactly what he was looking for, he strode over to the nearby garden shed. He'd farmed before, knew what sort of tools were kept, and grinned as he turned to the rest of the cell.

"See this? Ambassador Laren, get in. Guys, secure him in it, make sure he's well padded, don't ask questions, and we'll bring the ship here to pick you up. Keep them busy in the meantime."

Surprisingly, there was no argument.


*-*-*

Commander Eska was, to put it bluntly, not a happy man. He had been ordered to a backwater world, with his entire force, to imprison one man. The only reason they hadn't sent a squad? rumours of some hotshot rebel cell being sent to the area. If I had a cred for every time a rumour was a load of sithspit, I'd be richer than the Emperor, he mused, and waited for the inevitable gunfire. After all, the order mentioned nothing about having to bring him back alive...

And then all hell broke loose. The next thing he knew, there was a blur speeding toward him, he went flying through the air, and everything got a bit dark.

When we woke up, his men were milling about in confusion. "WHAT THE SITH IS GOING ON? SECURE THE-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence, as one of the troopers brokenly interrupted him. "Sir, we can't. The suspect escaped."

Commander Eska turned a bright shade of purple, unobscured since his helmet had been removed, but, before he could continue, the trooper explained. As he did, his face got darker and darker, and he blacked out again, this time from a case of minor apoplexy and shock...


*-*-*

In the meantime, Nayell was discovering two things. Firstly, that while the Force helped him attain speed, he was not yet skilled enough to properly control a one wheeled, unreliable vehicle while doing so. It was taking all of his strength to keep the damn thing on course. As the ship came closer and closer, luckily a straight line from the Ambassador's mansion, he was also learning quite rapidly about the laws of inertia. If he didn't do something, and soon, both he and the ambassador would not so much be escapees as thinly spread bulkhead jam.

Again, he saw his future, and goggled. I have to do WHAT? he thought, even as he was skillfully manipulating his movements and clumsily those of the Ambassador's conveyance. He was now running backwards, and, due to the difficulty thereof, slowing down... but would it be-

Nayell knew two things at that very moment: Intense pain, and relieved unconsciousness.


*-*-*

Some hours later, the Ambassador entered the Veldspar Seagull's medbay, smiling. "My thanks to you, young, er... Jedi? for the assistance..." Nayell would have corrected him on the whole "jedi" thing, if it weren't for the fact that it still hurt to talk, or move, so he would not do so unless it were important. The Ambassador, almost embarassed, continued "...but whatever possessed you to use a wheelbarrow?"

Nayell chuckled, then coughed, which of course hurt a lot. What the hell, if the guy thinks I'm a Jedi, might as well say something mysteriously wise...

"Sometimes, sir... there is no clear path, only an obscure one."

And, for Nayell, as everything became pain and darkness again, his last thought was - In a good way.

Yeah, Nayell Darhan, short lived character that he was, was known within the group as the "Force Inept", for his incredibly bad luck with the Jedi Mind Trick, and his crack-brained uses of the Force that nearly always ended up with him out of commision, even if the job was done. The Force really had it in for poor Nayell... :smallbiggrin:

Anterean
2010-10-02, 02:03 PM
I figured it would be fun to join in.
Sadly I don´t really have any epic moments from current D&D game to share, so I hope you don´t mind one from a warhammer game.


Among those you belong

Wolfhart looked up at the rising moons as he walked back towards the tavern. Why he had agreed to help Burcin question these villages was beyond him at moment. Of course the silver-tongued little halfing had spun some tale about cultists and Wolfharts oath to protect the empire from enemies within as well as those outside the border, but if one more air-headed peasant girl tried to charm him rather answer the questions regarding murders spanning over the last dozen years he would personally torch this cursed village.
Wolfhart took a deep breath, it was his own fault ofcourse, he could have dressed as a common soldier, but no he had to bring the robes of his office

Wolfhart stopped as noticed a young woman sitting by the stream running through the town, even without her Amethyst robe the clean shaven woman was easily reconcilable to him.
"How did it go for you Esmeralda?" Wolfhart asked as he approached the Strigany woman. "They wouldn´t even talk with me" she responded sounding genuinely hurt, still staring at the water. "Who care about them anyway" Wolfhart said, trying to sound comforting. Despite Esmeralda being his elder he felt responsible for her. He was after all the one who discovered her and (at time against her will) introduced her to colleges in Altdorf.
Even though she did join the bright college she was still his "charge" of sorts. Not in any official capacity, but still.

"You don´t understand" she insisted "I have always been scorned, the other Strigany is all I ever had, and now they won´t even talk with me, now I don´t have anyone" Wolfhart could her voice quivering, of course he knew the Strigany was ostracised due superstitious rumours about them consorting with vampires, but Wolfhart had always considered that old women's tales besides she was collegiate magister now.

Wolfhart placed a hand on her should and gave her a warm smile "Ofcourse you do" he said "You are one of us now".
The look Esmeralda gave in return was one of outright horror, as she shoved him away and ran.


Wolfhart started the campaign as a grave robber, eventually becoming a student and bright wizard. Esmeralda witnessed how this rise in class and power went to his head and eventually making him ruthless and cruel, to all but those closest to him (e.g. the group, his family and his apprentice).
To her, the aspect of being "one of his" was properly more terrifying than being all alone in the world

Werekat
2010-10-02, 07:55 PM
Darkpuppy: a very fun read! Nayell sounds a lot of fun.

Lady Moreta: ah, then, I leave the proofreading to your established beta. I still want to read more. :)

You people have collectively inspired me to write up a bit from our own D&D game. I usually write my snippets in Russian, but hey. what the heck. Constructive criticism welcome - English literary styles aren't really my strong suit.


Desert Dangers
or Lucky Knowledge Check

The sand is everywhere. It itches under my clothes, it screaks in my boots, it gets under my mask and makes it hard to breathe, it sifts through my hair. And yet the journey could have been worse. For the hundreth time, I offer silent thanks to the unknown Elven artificer who made my cloak and thus saved us from the brunt of the heat. The sun glares mercilessly from a sky so blue that my eyes hurt from a single glance upwards.

Ah, the salve must be wearing off.

I slow my pace, and reach for a small jar, then smear a bit of dark blue, cool-smelling salve on my eyelids. Alchemical glare protection. I am lucky. When the Indifferent one and his clerics had taught me, an unnaturally long ten years ago, a general stragegy for taking care of yourself in an unknown environment, they included the following: "Your senses are vulnerable. Eyes can be blinded, ears deafened, skin burned or frozen, nose nauseated. Take care of your senses, and you'll have less of a chance to blunder into your doom." The rule has saved us countless times.

But sometimes doom arrives just while you are preparing for it.

Sharp-eyed Jelita yells a warning, and Cypher, next to me, throws a hand up in a defensive gesture. Ambush!

And then the world is fire and pain. Taali screeches in fear from his resting place in my cloak, and I stagger, but somehow hold my ground. All of us do.

But while we stand there, blinded, hurt, it rises from the sands. A humongous armored worm with a gaping maw, the sharp spikes protruding from its scales gleaming with green ichor. It looms over us, ready to pound us into the sand.

I've seen those spikes, that mouth. Where? Where!?

We react fast. The sharp twang of Jelita's bow tells me the rogue has already sent a few arrows into the beast. Cypher sings out a phrase, and his pure, clear magic envelops me, envelops all of us, raising spirits and driving doubt and fear from our hearts. Fai takes to the skies, and Katarina - brave Katarina - calls out a prayer and closes in with the beast.

Can we kill it before it kills us?

It is hurt already, and badly. Katarina's mace, Cypher's sword, Jelita's arrows. A simple magic missle should give us enough of an edge.

But something scratches in my mind, some fact I must remember about this creature, something I specifically paid attention to when reading those scrolls. Something is wrong, very wrong.

I follow Fai's suit and take to the skies. Last out the seconds I need to see it, to understand, please, friends!

It winds around Katarina, its spikes breaking through her armor, its venom eating away at her skin, and she falls limp in its grip. Poison. Fire-breathing poisonous worm!...

"Fai!" I shout. "Your staff! If it dies, we all die!"

The warlock understands me instantly, and draws the stave from the leather loop on his pack.

"Charm Monster!" he cries. "Do not eat her!"

Luckily, the creature is smarter than a mere animal. I know not if it understands Common, but it certainly knows intonation. It freezes, heeding Fai's warning.

Our warriors stop in mid-swing and mid-notch.

"Get her out!" Fai shouts.

Cypher takes a step forward, but the creature bristles threateningly, instinctively biting down on Katarina. The paladin backs away again.

"Fai, your call. It's charmed to you." I note. The obvious is hardly obvious when your beloved is unconscious in the mouth of some creature.

The warlock swoops down to the worm. I stay aloft to study the creature.

I was right. It is *that* worm. Those ridges really are unmistakable.

Fai murmurs soothing words as he carefully extracts Katarina from the worm's mouth, and passes her to Cypher. He concentrates momentarily, and Katarina opens her eyes, and stands shakily.

"What... Happened?"

"It's not over," I say. "Back away. Slowly. About a hundred feet should
do."

"What's wrong with it?" Fai asks in that same soothing tone, petting the creature with a gloved hand. It arches under his soft touch, having finally found a friendly soul in this hungry world.

"When they die, they explode. Sharp, poisonous pieces. It'd tear us to shreds."

Fai nods and confirms: "Back away. I'll take care of it."

"If it's friendly now, then maybe we could ride it." The paladin offers. "We've a long way to go, and no mounts."

I and Fai exchange dark looks.

"No." I say. "If the spell is dispelled - and in these sands, this is more than just a possibility - it'll attack again, and at a most inopportune time, too."

"I don't want to risk it either." Fai nods.

"Jailin, how far is it to the city?" Katarina asks suddenly.

"A day's travel. Our walking speed." I answer.

She shakes her head. "We cannot leave it so close to the city. It is a threat."

The paladin spreads his hands, conceding to her logic.

"I'll do it." Fai says. I hear the reason behind his words, and I would have done the same in his place. You charm it, you kill it.

I float to the ground, and we retreat. Once we are out of range, Fai once more spreads his charcoal-colored wings, and soars upwards, until he is a mere silhouette against the all-too-bright sky. The worm raises its head longingly to where Fai disappeared, too far for its blindsense. And then a lance of sharp green light falls from the skies, and where there was a living creature, there is now a whirling storm of poisonous blades, spreading to where we had stood or flown mere seconds earlier.

I draw my cloak tighter about myself as I watch the storm slowly subside, seeing in my mind's eye, against my will, Katarina, Fai, Cypher. Broken and poisoned. My own body, rended and torn. I would not even have lived to be poisoned in my current state. Jelita would probably live - the half-elf is quicker than most of my full-blooded brethren. But alone in the desert, would it take her long to join us in the afterlife? I think not...

Taali tugs at my hair consolingly, and I stroke his soft fur, in turn relieving his fears. Not even singed. That pocket was a good investment. But even a magical pocket would not do well in that sharp whirlwind.

"How glad I am that we were not in there..." I mutter.

Katarina looks at me knowingly and nods.

And then my body reminds me just how hurt I am. The pain that left me during the battle rush returns, and I have to cling onto my own staff to keep standing. I wouldn't have lasted long even with a staff, but, luckily, warm friendly hands are there to catch me as I fall. Katarina's healing touch soon returns me to my senses.

Fai, unusually solemn, lands with a soft sweep of his wings. He folds his wings and returns the staff to its loop.

"Why so serious?" Jelita asks him, shouldering her bow. "We won!"

"I still had to kill it." He answers curtly.

"Oh, c'mon!" The half-elf laughs. "It wanted to eat us, and we fought back!"

"I know," Fai nods. "But that was hardly fair."

"What, did we hurt its feelings?" Jelita throws her hands up in the air. "Oooh, Fai, think about the feelings of the baby worms. Mommy was catching travellers to chew 'em and spit 'em up for her young, and now that she won't ever come back, they will have to dig themselves out... And HUNT!" She makes a scary face.

Cypher and Katarina exchange looks that say "Children will be children."

"I think someone's missing the point of how a charm spell works." I comment offhandedly. "Fai, doesn't your staff have quite a few charges remaining?" The warlock nods. "We could always demonstrate, Jelita."

The rogue sighs in exasperation, but quiets.

And I start waiting for night to fall and finally be over. This is not going to be a pleasant night to trance.

darkpuppy
2010-10-02, 09:16 PM
Welcome to the thread, Werekat, enjoyed your tale, and will critique when I'm not so tired. Also welcome to Anterean, whose brief tale nonetheless implied a hella story!

Lady Moreta
2010-10-02, 09:24 PM
Unorthodox Solutions

or The Infamous Force Speed Wheelbarrow

Yeah, Nayell Darhan, short lived character that he was, was known within the group as the "Force Inept", for his incredibly bad luck with the Jedi Mind Trick, and his crack-brained uses of the Force that nearly always ended up with him out of commision, even if the job was done. The Force really had it in for poor Nayell... :smallbiggrin:

Still, that was a brilliant plan with the wheelbarrow :smallbiggrin: I liked it, very funny.


Wolfhart started the campaign as a grave robber, eventually becoming a student and bright wizard. Esmeralda witnessed how this rise in class and power went to his head and eventually making him ruthless and cruel, to all but those closest to hum (e.g. the group, his family and his apprentice).
To her, the aspect of being "one of his" was properly more terrifying than being all alone in the world

Interesting. A different ending to most of what we've got here. It left me going 'huh? what was so bad about that?' (which of course you explained later). But it was a good way to grab you and make you want more.


Lady Moreta: ah, then, I leave the proofreading to your established beta. I still want to read more. :)

No, don't! :smallsmile: Husband is more than happy to nitpick my grammar and spelling (even when I don't want him to), but he's not so good at the 'how do I make the general writing/tone better'. When I first got him to read it, his response was 'it's a bit too D&D, try making it less obvious' - but there were no suggestions forthcoming on how to do that.

Besides, I'm pretty sure your English is better than mine, and it's the only language I know :smalltongue:


You people have collectively inspired me to write up a bit from our own D&D game. I usually write my snippets in Russian, but hey. what the heck. Constructive criticism welcome - English literary styles aren't really my strong suit.

I'm glad, because that was brilliant! I loved it :smallsmile: I'm not sure 'screaks' is a word, but who cares! It fit perfectly, and you conjured up that horribly annoying sensation you get when there is sand in your shoes.:smallsmile:

I only have one point of minor critisim, and I'm not even sure I'm right about it...

I and Fai exchange dark looks.

I'm pretty sure that in English at least, this should be 'Fai and I', not the other way around. It doesn't seem to read properly the way you have it, but I'm not sure about the actual rule, so I could be wrong.

Otherwise, I loved it, and I really felt for Fai. Especially as Silver is likely to be taking Charm Monster at her next level up (which should be some time this afternoon as we have our next game today and I only need about 800xp to level up).

I'm still trying to write Lirrin's backstory, since Gareth asked for it, but I seem to be struggling with it. Not least because husband gave me the puppy-dog eyes and begged to let him steal my laptop last night so he and bro-in-law could play TA :smalltongue:

Werekat
2010-10-03, 07:58 AM
Thank you for the welcome and the replies! :)

Lady Moreta: sure, then! :) And thank you for the compliment, but it isn't. It's not as naturally-flowing, that's for sure. :)

As for the obviousness of D&D: we-elll, I'm not sure that's a bad thing in this case. But I'm a fan of stories based on stuff that happened in-game, and thus of the fact that it shows decisions are made in split seconds, aren't always correct, and so on. "You can't make this stuff up" kind of story, essentially.

As for that snippet: "screaks" seems to be a US-dialect word. I actually had to look up the word for that sound, and that one seemed to evoke the feeling best. I'll look up the rule on "Fai and I". :)

Lord_Gareth
2010-10-03, 09:00 AM
I think that you're thinking of 'shrieks', 'cause I've never heard of the other one.

As far as the 'and I' rule, one puts oneself at the end of lists. However, sometimes 'and me' is the appropriate phrase; it depends on what the rest of the sentence looks like. Observe:

"Pelor smote Harley and me."

"Rachel and I totally sexed up those priests of Sune Firehair."

Essentially speaking, you determine if you need to use 'I' or 'me' by removing everyone else from your list and seeing which word makes sense.

Werekat
2010-10-03, 06:09 PM
Lord Gareth: http://www.thefreedictionary.com/screak

As for the rule... If I understand you correctly, then, I technically used it in the right manner, since "I" and "Fai" are both subjects, and "I exchange a dark look with Fai" is correct. However, "I exchange a dark look with Fai" is just better-flowing English.

Lady Moreta
2010-10-03, 09:08 PM
As for the obviousness of D&D: we-elll, I'm not sure that's a bad thing in this case. But I'm a fan of stories based on stuff that happened in-game, and thus of the fact that it shows decisions are made in split seconds, aren't always correct, and so on. "You can't make this stuff up" kind of story, essentially.

Oh, I love not having to come up with the plot myself... my problem is the fact that initially, my writing wasn't very subtle. For example, when Silver casts message, I think how I originally wrote it sounds stupid and yes very overly D&Dish. I think something like 'she grabs a piece of copper wire and whispers a spell. Now they can keep in contact' sounds better.


As for that snippet: "screaks" seems to be a US-dialect word. I actually had to look up the word for that sound, and that one seemed to evoke the feeling best. I'll look up the rule on "Fai and I". :)

Oh, I think it was a fantastic word. Perfectly fit what you meant I think. I'd just never heard it before. But that's okay, I like new words :smallsmile:


Lord Gareth: http://www.thefreedictionary.com/screak

As for the rule... If I understand you correctly, then, I technically used it in the right manner, since "I" and "Fai" are both subjects, and "I exchange a dark look with Fai" is correct. However, "I exchange a dark look with Fai" is just better-flowing English.

Except that's not what you wrote. You wrote "I and Fai exchanged dark looks". Which, according to what Gareth posted, is technically incorrect. If you had written "I exchange a dark look with Fai" that would be perfectly correct. I don't want to nitpick, just clarify :smallsmile:

And I'm still attempting Lirrin's backstory - or at least, her reason for leaving her village and joined the city guard. I have the reasoning in place, I'm just struggling to get the writing started.

big teej
2010-10-03, 10:53 PM
hey everybody, session 3 with my on campus group concluded about an hour ago, and it has produced a new snippet....


"uh oh" or "the Death of Valek"

I have much work to do tomorrow, so I'm afraid I can't type it up now, even though i REEEEAAALLLLY want to....

spoilered for senseless verbosity
due to the newbishness of much of my group, I have offered them 'resource NPCs' which are characters I've played in the past. Valek is my dwarf rogue, who filled in whenever the party rogue couldn't make it to the session.... as of this past session he had been voted in as a semi-permanent party member, due to the rogue player's absence..... he was subsequently killed in the 2nd adventure of today's session....
the party also took along my planeswalking barbarian for some extra oomph after the paladin player had to leave.........


I reallly should get around to writing some stuff for him.

Werekat
2010-10-04, 04:07 AM
Oh, I love not having to come up with the plot myself... my problem is the fact that initially, my writing wasn't very subtle. For example, when Silver casts message, I think how I originally wrote it sounds stupid and yes very overly D&Dish. I think something like 'she grabs a piece of copper wire and whispers a spell. Now they can keep in contact' sounds better.

I tend to keep to the other side of the fence here. When you're "in the head" of the character, they know what they're doing, and what spells they are casting. They have a means of referring to them, and it's usually a simple title or a description of an effect. It's kind of like us usually not thinking, "she picks up the plastic construct and presses a few buttons"; we usually just say "she phones someone." If magic is commonplace - and especially if the PoV character is a mage - I tend to use similar shorthand, be it in third person or first person. For instance, "Message" sounds pretty obvious: it's a concise summary of what the spell does. It feels more realistic to me.

It's a whole different ballpark, however, when the PoV is from someone who does not actually understand what's going on. And then it's a chance to show off the perception of the PoV character. Are they simple, yet attentive? Great detail, but the trees actually obscure the forest. "Ooh, pretty lights, " instead off "that was some kind of signal!" Do they grasp meaning well, but are so absorbed in it that they forget whatever else comes along? "Yes, that came from northeast, near the bugbear camp... Whaddya mean, we're fighting?" And so on, and so on. A character who is familiar with something but does not actually understand it can easily make up her own names for what's going on: "Oh, she did the snake dance again!"


Except that's not what you wrote. You wrote "I and Fai exchanged dark looks". Which, according to what Gareth posted, is technically incorrect. If you had written "I exchange a dark look with Fai" that would be perfectly correct. I don't want to nitpick, just clarify :smallsmile:.

I like nitpicking, 'cause I'm a pretty slow learner, and often get stuff only *after* it's been nitpicked to death. :) If you ever get bored of it - just tell me, ok?

I'm trying to get the whole subject-object thing here: if you have two subjects of action, you use "I" - and then you have to figure out where to put it; if you have an object of action, you use "me". I think I have two subjects with one verb: so wouldn't the use of "I" be correct? "I exchange a dark look" is incomplete, but not incorrect. The question should be the order of the subjects, and I haven't been able to find anything decisive on that yet.

If I'm still missing something, and anyone's still up for explaining (or just pointing me to the rule I've misread), I'll be very glad. :)


And I'm still attempting Lirrin's backstory - or at least, her reason for leaving her village and joined the city guard. I have the reasoning in place, I'm just struggling to get the writing started..

*grins* Similar problem here. I'm writing a little and hopefully funny snippet about elven ears, and am finding it hard to get the introduction. I just start writing, though: I can always edit later.

Lord_Gareth
2010-10-04, 08:46 AM
Where you put "I" or "me" is only determined by the order of the sentence and whether or not there's a list involved. Observe:

"I exchanged a dark look with Fai," is entirely correct: you, the subject, perform a verb upon something.

"Fai and I exchanged a dark look," is also correct.

"I and Fai exchanged a dark look," is INcorrect.

The pronoun that represents oneself always goes at the end of any listing, so if Kayla is part of this, then any list should read, "Fai, Kayla and I," or "Kayla, Fai and I", as taste dictates.

Make more sense now?

Werekat
2010-10-04, 08:54 AM
Yes, after the last example it makes sense. :) Thank you, Lord Gareth.

Machuchang
2010-10-04, 06:25 PM
I really love all of the stories everyone has posted so far, and am really looking forward to more. I've been lurking around this thread for a while, and was finally inspired to resurrect this account to try and be a part of it. :smallredface:

Just to warn you all though, I've really just started writing, and am far from used to first-person POV, so read at your own risk.

Anyway, I've been stalling enough. Here's my small contribution: The most recent adventure of my Paladin/Crusader Varen Castellos in his quest to find his childhood friend.

Revelations in the Eye of the Storm
(or That's a lot of Natural 20s)

The wind blew hard across the ground, whipping my hair wildly about and scattering the pebbles at my feet. The harsh crack of thunder echoed in the distance and the sky began to darken. I was close. So very close.

For almost three whole years, I had traveled across Geridia, searching for the Fear Legion, the most elusive members of the Crownbreakers and their leader, the Deathwind. But perhaps even more than that, I was searching for closure. I had to know what had happened to her.

Natalia…

I gazed at their camp, mere miles away from the plateau where I stood. Soon, so very soon, I would strike. A bolt of lightning flashed in the distance, distracting me from my reverie and illuminating my perch to reveal an all too familiar figure.

I was no longer alone. The figure's face was covered by a monstrous mask made from the fused skulls of some of the fiercest creatures in the world, and his rusted mail was covered by bones. A hide cloak trailed behind him, blown by the wind, and in his left hand, he held a massive blade. The Deathwind. It seemed that my quarry had instead come to me.

“You!” I could barely contain my rage. Trembling in anger, fear, and anticipation, I slowly began to draw my sword and shield as he trudged toward me.

“You have come far,” he said, his voice deep and distorted as though by some magic within his mask. “But I would turn back if I were you. It would be a great waste to all of Attare to see the end of such a skilled warrior here. Leave now, little pawn of the emperor, and I may just spare your life.”

“Silence!” I erupted. “You have been a source of misery in this land for far too long! I will make you pay for your crimes, here and now!”

“Very well then,” The Deathwind said, almost sadly. “You will die here.”

I charged, and a furious cry escaped my lips as my blade met his. Using my momentum, I pressed the attack and rained blow after blow against him, only to have each strike knocked away in turn. He whipped his foot into a gap in my armor, and I heard the loud snap of bone as one of my right ribs shattered under the blow. I screamed in agony, only to be silenced as he slammed the pommel of his sword into my temple. Disoriented, I fell back, barely managing to sidestep a powerful swing that would have split me in two.

Cursing myself for being so reckless, I adopted one of my newly learned stances, bringing my shield up in order to better defend myself while I scanned him for any gaps in his defense. As he stepped into his next blow, I saw my chance. Rolling under his sword, I spun and plunged my blade into a section of his rusted mail. I watched with satisfaction as his blood seeped from under the shattered links.

Unfortunately, this feeling didn’t last long, as the Deathwind whipped his sword in a wide arc, hammering it into my shield as I brought it up just in time. My shield arm went limp as I felt the reverberations from the blow traveling into the left side of my body, further exacerbating the pain from my broken rib. I coughed once and fell to my knees, tasting the metallic flavor of blood as it began to drip from my mouth.

“You are strong-willed, paladin,” the Deathwind murmured. “Far too strong-willed for your own good. Yet you fight us. You must know that you cannot stop us, so why do you resist? Join us, and exert this will of yours over others! You could have anything you desire!”

“All I want is Natalia, you son of a whore,” I spat, my blood splattering his boots.

“Natalia…” The Deathwind’s tone suddenly became much more sinister, and almost mocking. “Such a pretty name… Yes, I remember her. She was my favorite,” he began to chuckle darkly. “Though never willing of course… She had such beautiful screams...”


That’s when I snapped.


Using the last of my strength, I unleashed one final blow, aimed directly at his head. He raised his blade to block mine, but it was of no use. With a scream of pure fury, I drove my sword through his, cleaving it in two before sinking my blade into his mask.

Time seemed to stand still as the Deathwind’s helm shattered and fell to the ground at my feet, leaving me face to face for the first time with my hated foe. I could not believe my eyes.


“N-Natalia,”


She stood before me, almost exactly as I had last seen her, from her wavy blonde hair to her deep blue eyes. There was no one else she could have possibly been.

“Natalia… Tali… why?” I felt my eyes brimming with tears. “W-Were you behind all this? What have you done?!”

Slowly, she walked over to me. She stroked my face gently with her right hand, brushing away a stray tear. Over the sound of the storm, I was vaguely aware of what sounded like some voices in the distance.

“Varen, I’m so sorry,” she said, as she kissed me on the cheek. Suddenly, my whole being was wracked by a wave of pain. I stumbled back in shock, gaping at the shattered sword shoved deep into my side, in the same spot as my broken rib.

My vision began to blur, and I became acutely aware of my surroundings. Of the frigid air and my burning hot blood, of the sounds of voices and footsteps, and of the hardness of the rock as it struck my unprotected head. Soon, everything descended into blackness.


The last thing I heard was the murmuring of many voices. The last thing I felt was the falling rain.

tl;dr Varen finally learns the identity of his mortal enemy before possibly being killed.

big teej
2010-10-04, 08:47 PM
okay...

I give up....

what in the name of pun-pun does tl;dr mean?!:smallfurious:


:smalltongue:

Machuchang
2010-10-04, 09:18 PM
I'm pretty sure it means "too long; didn't read".

Lady Moreta
2010-10-04, 09:45 PM
I really love all of the stories everyone has posted so far, and am really looking forward to more. I've been lurking around this thread for a while, and was finally inspired to resurrect this account to try and be a part of it. :smallredface:

Awesome. A new victim! :smallbiggrin:

Er... I mean, newcomer - welcome newcomer :smalltongue:



The last thing I heard was the murmuring of many voices. The last thing I felt was the falling rain.

tl;dr Varen finally learns the identity of his mortal enemy before possibly being killed.

Wow. Just wow. That was epic :smallbiggrin: I love fight scenes, and that was very well done. Wonderful battle, and so sad!

Only one point of critism (which is mostly a stylistic thing):


“Silence!” I screamed, feeling my voice seemingly erupt from my body. “You have been a source of misery in this land for far too long! I will make you pay for your crimes, here and now!”

Here, I don't think you need the 'seemingly'. His voice was supposed to erupt from his body yes? You were trying to express exactly how he's feeling and just how he's screaming - anger and hatred and fear all in one right? Using 'seemingly' actually lessens the impact of the 'erupt from my body' part. I would take it out.

Also, on a purely physical note, technically we talk out of our body (the mouth), so why can't he 'erupt' instead of just yell? :smalltongue:


okay...

I give up....

what in the name of pun-pun does tl;dr mean?!:smallfurious:

:smalltongue:

We could tell you, but then we'd have to kill you :smalltongue:

Translated: I have no idea what it means, but I've seen it before and am also curious. Machuchang, what does it mean?

edit: and there you go answering the question before I get in...

Machuchang
2010-10-04, 11:30 PM
Awesome. A new victim!

...Is it too late to go?:smalleek:
:smalltongue:


Wow. Just wow. That was epic I love fight scenes, and that was very well done. Wonderful battle, and so sad!

Thanks a lot! I'm very glad you liked it! This is the first battle sequence I've written in a long time, so it really means a lot to me to hear/read that.
...Though it does help that my DM is very descriptive and that all the nat 20s rolled during that combat made it very dramatic.


Here, I don't think you need the 'seemingly'. His voice was supposed to erupt from his body yes? You were trying to express exactly how he's feeling and just how he's screaming - anger and hatred and fear all in one right? Using 'seemingly' actually lessens the impact of the 'erupt from my body' part. I would take it out.

Also, on a purely physical note, technically we talk out of our body (the mouth), so why can't he 'erupt' instead of just yell?

Excellent points. I feel kind of silly for having that part there, looking back on it.:smallredface: I'll go fix that, and hopefully that will increase the impact and make it less repetitive.

Thanks a lot for all the advice! If I have to be a victim while I'm here, I'll be sure to make the most out of it. :smallwink:

Lady Moreta
2010-10-04, 11:59 PM
...Is it too late to go?:smalleek:
:smalltongue:

Yes. Yes it is :smalltongue:


Thanks a lot! I'm very glad you liked it! This is the first battle sequence I've written in a long time, so it really means a lot to me to hear/read that.
...Though it does help that my DM is very descriptive and that all the nat 20s rolled during that combat made it very dramatic.

You're welcome! and it does help, I know. I'm the note-taker in our group, and my books are scattered with little bits of description and diagrams of our fights.

You gotta love the natural 20 :smallbiggrin:

Machuchang
2010-10-05, 12:22 AM
You're welcome! and it does help, I know. I'm the note-taker in our group, and my books are scattered with little bits of description and diagrams of our fights.


That is a really amazing idea. I've gotta start doing that!

Lady Moreta
2010-10-05, 01:38 AM
That is a really amazing idea. I've gotta start doing that!

Made even more amusing by the fact that my character is a bard :smalltongue:

I am and always have been a compulsive note-taker. I struggled to stay awake during lectures at uni, so I would compulsively write down everything the lecturer said in an effort to stay awake (stupid overly-warm lecture theatres). It's stuck with me :smallsmile:

Probably frustrates the group, because it'll get to my turn, and I'm going "wait wait, I'm not ready yet!" trying to write and play at the same time is hard, but it pays off in the long run. DM is constantly going through my notes to refresh his memory :smalltongue:

Werekat
2010-10-05, 08:25 AM
Machuchang, welcome to the thread! And I liked your story a lot. It was well-written, the only obvious criticism I could find has already been pointed out.

I should mention that I couldn't see the end coming - somehow I got the impression that the BBEG was active before your paladin parted ways with his friend, and a paladin's Detect Evil pretty much saves him from bad character judgement (usually. Sometimes. Give me a break here. :) ). Accidentally: upon re-reading, it reads fine, and nothing implies such a conclusion, except the Deathwind's teasing after the name was dropped. But for me it did come as a surprise, so that was fun, and... Way to leave on a cliffhanger! Will there be more?

Lady Moreta: ooh, note-keeper! Kudos from someone that once got a almost a megabyte of pure text in .txt format from her game. But I don't write such detailed notes anymore: that one took too much out of me. I prefer snippets these days. :)

As for my own work, well - I didn't finish the funny segment, because we had a game last night. It should be noted that in this campaign we take turns to run adventures - the first one to run was the paladin's player (who wanted a "one-shot to get acquainted with the classic system," but made such a fun game that we decided to continue), the second one was the warlock's player (if you see my snippets getting anime, you'll know the scene was from his adventure), and now it's my turn, with the favored soul's turn coming up rapidly. So this is from yesterday's game, and I hereby ask my players, should they come across this thread, not to look at it until next time. After all, though you may suspect where your wizard has disappeared, you do not truly know yet, and I wrote this to figure out what was happening in the background while you fought. And the rest of you, please put any particular plot comments in spoilers. :)


Dragons, Illusions, Sphinx
or
How could half the group have failed a will save that low?!

As we walk back from our meeting with the dragon, I cannot help but keep looking back, just in case. A blue, obviously. Evil. An illusionist, good enough to hide herself from Fai and Jelita. Vain enough to create an illusion of herself - if it was a she, and it was not just fooling with us? - but too careful to show. And my friends were never the definition of careful planning. They'd insulted her, hoping to draw her out through draconic pride, and all she did was laugh at us.

This does not bode well. No dragon forgets an insult. Ever.

And I'd rather face a dragon who would attack immediately than one whose revenge is best served cold.

As I look back, Jelita squints and says, "Hey, what's that up there?"

And truly, four forms - smaller than the dragon, far larger than any of us - have flown out of the forest and are making a beeline for us. They look like huge wolves, and yet winged. An intelligent formation - no line, and even a fireball would only get two.

Ah, I've read about those. Canisphinx.

Don't they hunt alone? And only in pairs when mating?

And do dragons not drive sphinx from their territories?

"A test." Cypher smirks grimly.

"Looks that way." I say quietly. "They can paralyze with their howl. Be on your guard."

"I've spent most of my power to remove such effects." Katarina replies. "We shall rely on healing."

"Very well."

What else can they do? Instill fear? Most unlikely, not with a paladin by our side. Ah, yes. They drain strength when howling. Good thing not all of us rely on strength, then.

And then their leader howls, a haunting dirge. I have only time to see Fai's face contort in fear, as the warlock leaps into the air - for then the howl rises to a crescendo and fills my own soul with terror.

I must get out of here!

Somehow I do not fumble the arcane gestures, and appear almost a mile from the fight. Not far enough! More gestures, more words, and I am quick to run, and dodge between the trees, only to get away from that place, faster, faster!..

And then I come to my senses. Where am I? Damn! I - what direction did I even jump in? I try to get my bearings, and rise above the trees in flight.

And then a huge paw slams me into the ground, face down. All I can see are blue scales and claws.

"Caught you." That same female voice says, no longer in Common, but in Draconic. "I should think I did well not to show myself to your group. Not that our little chat went well, but had you been running like the cowards you are, there would have been no chat to speak of."

And all I can think is: I've used up my power to jump dimensions. I'm dead.

"Do you even speak the true tongue, mageling? You had better, for if you do not, I shall tear you limb from limb here and now."

"A-as if thh-at is n-not your plan regardless." I answer in Draconic. My voice shakes, betraying my fear. Damn again, do I at least not get to die with dignity?!

"Possibly not, mageling. Possibly not." I can almost see her smirk. "Tell me, little one, do your friends value your life?"

"H-how did you know my profession?"

"Simple." She laughs. "I've had ample time to study you while you were making fools of yourselves. Your little bat - careful in its hiding, but not careful enough - is very much a giveaway."

I can feel Taali's shame from the extradimensional pocket he must have peered out of back then.

"Do not worry." I say to him. And then to the dragon: "Y-you had taken m-me bec-cause I'd split furthest from the group?"

"Correct."

"My cal-ling makes no difference, then."

"Correct again. Though I do believe I shall have a use for your familiar. And, little bat, though I've no time to waste catching flies, be foolish - and I shall crush your master."

"I am listening," Taali says. I translate.

"First, answer me, mageling - do your friends value your life? What would they do to preserve you?"

"I... You p-plan to.. To blackmail them?"

"Quite obvious, is it not?"

I'm dead.

"It will not work, dragon." I say, and I think it can hear the resignation in my voice. "It simply will not work."

"You are so worthless, mageling?" Her claws squeeze tighter around me. "I can believe it, if you are so fearful. What is it you do for them, protect them from the sun and wind? Was there no one better to do it than you?"

"What I do is... Irrelevant. What is relevant is that they do not submit to blackmail. That is a matter of principle, dragon. No matter what kind of power they are faced with. They will die rather than submit."

The dragon laughs with almost-palpable glee. "They will not die, mageling. If they prove useless to me, you will die, and I shall fling your head to them, and fly off merrily. Comb the desert if you will!"

Here it would be appropriate to proudly spout something like, "And then we shall hunt you to the ends of the Earth," but that would make her even more eager to get to the good part of the game. So I say, "They will not do evil. Not for my sake. Not for anyone's sake."

"So they will not kill for you?" The dragon says condescendingly. "Lucky you are, then, that I do not require killing. Nor even a particularly evil act."

"What is it you want, then?"

"Ah, that I shall reveal to all of you. Batling, I see they have scared off the remaining canisphinx. Go and call them here. Tell them that they may heal themselves before coming. I do not want to get too hungry from smelling their blood."

Machuchang
2010-10-05, 05:25 PM
Machuchang, welcome to the thread! And I liked your story a lot. It was well-written, the only obvious criticism I could find has already been pointed out.

I'm really glad that you enjoyed it! Thank you.


I should mention that I couldn't see the end coming - somehow I got the impression that the BBEG was active before your paladin parted ways with his friend, and a paladin's Detect Evil pretty much saves him from bad character judgement (usually. Sometimes. Give me a break here. :) ).

Well, that's the thing. The Deathwind WAS active before Varen lost his friend. My DM's pretty crafty, but he promised that the next time we game, he'll reveal how that twist came to be.


Accidentally: upon re-reading, it reads fine, and nothing implies such a conclusion, except the Deathwind's teasing after the name was dropped. But for me it did come as a surprise, so that was fun, and... Way to leave on a cliffhanger! Will there be more?


Yeah, that reveal came as a total surprise to me too (during the game, that is). And I don't know when the next session for this campaign is going to be, so this cliffhanger may have to hold us for a little bit.

However, I still remember a lot of the previous sessions, so I'll probably post some snippets of those soon, definitely starting with the first session. Hopefully, that will help to give my snippet a little bit more context.


As for your story, I really loved it! Especially this part:


"Ah, that I shall reveal to all of you. Batling, I see they have scared off the remaining canisphinx. Go and call them here. Tell them that they may heal themselves before coming. I do not want to get too hungry from smelling their blood."

That dragon is just too cool! I love how you managed to sum up its haughty, self-assured, and indisputably evil personality with just that last phrase. I love it!

Though I do have just one little thing to nitpick:


and it was not just fooling with us? This part is a little bit confusing to read. It might be better phrased as: "and if it was not just fooling with us". Also, I don't think the question mark is necessary, since that phrase isn't really a question. But really, great work all around!

Marillion
2010-10-05, 07:30 PM
While A Death in the Family is in progress, here's something a little more light-hearted, told from the viewpoint of my Vendel "doctor.":smallamused:


Frederik's First Surgery

Or, I Can't Believe He Survived!

I looked off of the aft deck towards the small island, called Teramunde by the natives and That Theus-forsaken rock out in the middle of friggin' NOWHERE by civilized people. We'd been here for several days now, anchored at the edge of the world while our passengers did...something...on the island. Not that I'd complained, mind you. Although I was no closer to finding my former business partner, I was rather far away from my other former business partner, and until I found the former I was absolutely fine avoiding the latter.

The island was scenic, in a nostalgic way. It reminded me of my cousin's island, before I acquired the deed and sold it to the Montaigne. Now, where there was untamed nature lay row upon row of tilled land, a mine or two, and of course several Montaigne garrisons to keep those pesky Vesten savages from taking back "their" land. A pity my cousin didn't understand. There were no harsh feelings, of course. It was merely good business, but Arjenson insisted on taking it as a personal affront. Something about selling the soul of our ancestors... I don't know, it didn't seem important so I wasn't paying attention. This island, however, lacked the bountiful resources required of a trading partner. Perhaps a resort for the wealthy? Yes, I could see it now; the top of the mountain would be a lovely retreat, surrounded by nature without any of the inconveniences.

rumblerumblerumblerumble

Hmm. Or perhaps not. I straightened my glasses, then said "Pardon me, mon Capitan but, uh, as you may have noticed, the island is now shooting up thick coloumns of foul smoke. Either there is a tremendous fire at the top, or there is about to be a tremendous fire everywhere. May we commence with sailing the hell away?"

The bald Castillian man at my side spat overboard without taking his eye from the spyglass. "First, senor Luccassen, you call me mon Capitan again an' I'll keelhaul you. Second, no, not yet."

"May I ask when, mon Capitan?"

He snorted thoughtfully. "First, senor Luccassen, you call me mon Capitan again an' I'll keelhaul you. Second, either when our guests return or when the island starts throwin' rocks at us."

"Won't it be a bit late then?"

"Ah, quit yer whinin. I can see em' runnin' down the mountain now. I already sent the bosun out to get em, we'll lift anchor within 10 minutes an' we got at least twice that 'fore it gets dangerous." He focused the glass, then chortled. "One of 'em is bleedin' somethin' awful. Looks like it's time for you to earn yer keep, doctor."

Oh, fantastic.

Ok, calm down, you can do this. It'll be fine! How hard could it be, a snip snip here and a sew sew there, he'll be good as new! It's like fixing your niece's doll. This is not a big deal.

The man, however, WAS big. A tree-like Avalonian man in a skirt, perhaps a Highlander, was escorted on board by a slight Castillian woman in pants and the dark-skinned bosun. He was still conscious, and could stand, though it obviously pained him. One hand was clutched over his stomach, and a dark stain was spreading through his blouse.

Without preamble, I grabbed his face and started inspecting him, pressing into his cheeks as though he was a dog that had got ahold of something he shouldn't. He pulled away and grimaced, backing away. I rapped his knee with my cane - delicately of course - and grabbed his cheeks once more as he bellowed in pain, shoving my fingers between his molars to prevent it from closing once more.

"Excuse me!" Oh good lord, that shrill voice. "What do you think you're doing? He's hurt! He needs to see the surgeon!"

Once the shivers passed through my spine, I adjusted my spectacles and turned to face her. "Madam, I am the surgeon. Now if you please, I am busy checking your friend for internal injuries. I fear his uvula may have fallen off."

The big man got nervous. "My uvula? Is...Is that important?"

"Only the single most important organ in your head! It's the seat of your soul. According to research I've personally conducted, people become quite violent and incoherent immediately upon the removal of their uvula."

The shrew piped up. "Excuse me, I don't think that's-"

I wheeled on her, clutching my cane tightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize there were TWO trained and licensed professionals on board. Perhaps you'd like to give a second opinion? Please, by all means. You'd only be contravening one of the most respected doctors of medicine to come out of the University at Kirk. But no, I'm sure you're just as qualified." She glared at me, but remained quiet. "So you'll let me finish then?" Silence. "Fantastic. Why don't you make yourself useful and run down to my lab? Bring me a set of forceps, a roll of gauze, and some needle and a thread." She shot me a look that could curdle milk, but went below deck.

With the nag out of the way, I returned to the big man, now noticeably paler. "Don't worry, she's gone now and I can proceed uninterrupted. Did you know that Vodacce men are born without uvulas? A little known fact, but it explains so much. Now, say Ah."

"Ahhhhhhhh."

"No no no! Follow my directions! Say Ah."

"Ah?"

"Much better." I peered into his mouth. I have no idea what I'm doing. "Alright, it appears your uvula sustained some superficial damage, but it'll heal overnight."

The skirt-wearing ogre sighed in genuine relief. "That's great, doctor. Thank you. Now, um, I do have one more ailment I'd like you to take a look at."

"Oh?"

"The HOLE in my STOMACH."

I waved my hands in dismissal. "A minor concern, nothing to be worried about." Just then, the hell-cat returned carrying the supplies I'd asked for. "Perfect! Thank you for finding those. Now if you'll please follow me down to my lab."

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

I consulted my star charts as the she-wolf strapped down the hulk, cross referencing the instructions with the Beginner's Book of Anatomy. "So I make the first incision here..." I drew my finger across the neck of the diagrammed man. Why doesn't that seem right? Ah, of course! The book is upside down. Ah yes, that makes much more sense.

"Doctor? Shall I fetch a basin for you to wash your hands in?"

I chuckled. "Nonsense! We Vendel have passed beyond such silly superstition. You may, however, fetch me a bottle of wine. The cheaper, the better."

I was quickly given a bottle. I stood and uncorked the wine...she didn't skimp on the cheapness, that's for sure. I took a swig from the bottle, then poured the rest onto the wound. The Highlander groaned and began to thrash around. "Hold still, you ape! This'll go much faster if you don't wriggle around. Scalpel, please." One was placed into my hand.

Ok. Showtime!

I placed the blade inside the bullet hole and pressed down. In hindsight, perhaps I applied slightly too much pressure. Or perhaps I was on the wrong side of the bullet. I don't know; I'm not a doctor.

There was a sound like air escaping a bladder as liquid spewed from the incision and painted the wall a foul shade of green, taking the slug with it. The Highlander screamed like a sissy, then fainted away.

OH SWEET MERCIFUL PROPHETS WHAT IS THAT.

"Relax, my dear! Nothing to be worried about. A perfectly natural expulsion of bodily waste. It's occurred in every surgery I've ever performed."

Yes. Yes it has.

"Calm down. I haven't lost a patient yet!"

No. No I haven't.

Despite my reassurances, however, the harridan wouldn't stop screaming. You'd think she'd never seen green unidentified liquid spurting from someone's stomach before. I do confess, though, that her panic was beginning to affect my judgment, and so I grabbed the closest thing to hand and crammed it in there good and tight, then quickly sewed it up.

"See? Good as new! I will need to keep him overnight for observation, but I expect him to make a full recovery."

"Doctor, is that...is that a cork in his stomach?"

"...Think of it as his new bellybutton."

big teej
2010-10-05, 08:34 PM
Made even more amusing by the fact that my character is a bard :smalltongue:

I am and always have been a compulsive note-taker. I struggled to stay awake during lectures at uni, so I would compulsively write down everything the lecturer said in an effort to stay awake (stupid overly-warm lecture theatres). It's stuck with me :smallsmile:

Probably frustrates the group, because it'll get to my turn, and I'm going "wait wait, I'm not ready yet!" trying to write and play at the same time is hard, but it pays off in the long run. DM is constantly going through my notes to refresh his memory :smalltongue:

I'm gonna have to start doing that if I"m gonna keep trying to post up snippets from sessions I'm running.

also, later tonight I am GOING to finally write the death of valek, and then I'll be takin requests on what to write after that.

Lady Moreta
2010-10-05, 11:38 PM
I should mention that I couldn't see the end coming

I didn't see it coming either. Very good with the springing of surprises. I wish I was that good at it.


Lady Moreta: ooh, note-keeper! Kudos from someone that once got a almost a megabyte of pure text in .txt format from her game. But I don't write such detailed notes anymore: that one took too much out of me. I prefer snippets these days. :)

Thank you :smallsmile: it's as much for my sake as anyone else's. Although Tanc's player has all my old notebooks because he's also writing snippets. I'm not quite as obsessive now as I used to be, but I like to get the comments and descriptions down as much as possible, for my own writing.



[CENTER]Dragons, Illusions, Sphinx
or
How could half the group have failed a will save that low?!

I love your description of your wizard running away in fear. Or teleporting away rather. Very well done. And I love the dragon's pure smugness about the whole thing. Perfectly well-sprung trap. There is something very feminine about the way the dragon talks too. Very well done :smallsmile:

And yes the 'hungry from smelling their blood' pure terrifying evil. Brilliant.



While A Death in the Family is in progress, here's something a little more light-hearted, told from the viewpoint of my Vendel "doctor.":smallamused:

First impression: your Vendel has a warped sense of humour...

Favourite parts:

Either there is a tremendous fire at the top, or there is about to be a tremendous fire everywhere. May we commence with sailing the hell away?"

I placed the blade inside the bullet hole and pressed down. In hindsight, perhaps I applied slightly too much pressure. Or perhaps I was on the wrong side of the bullet. I don't know; I'm not a doctor.

"Doctor, is that...is that a cork in his stomach?"

"...Think of it as his new bellybutton."


The bellybutton bit? Just about had me in hysterics. At work.

Well done :smallbiggrin:

Marillion
2010-10-06, 12:16 AM
First impression: your Vendel has a warped sense of humour...

Whatever do you mean?:smalleek:


The bellybutton bit? Just about had me in hysterics. At work.

Yes, the group laughed for a good five minutes straight. Much drama dice was earned that night. :smallamused:

My personal favorite bits were (apart from the bellybutton bit:smallbiggrin:)
-"My uvula? Is...Is that important?":smalleek:
-Asking the woman to get him some needle and a thread
-Dismissing hand-washing as silly superstition as he's consulting a star chart

I have much hope for Frederik; that was his first appearance.:smallbiggrin:

Werekat
2010-10-06, 02:12 AM
Well, that's the thing. The Deathwind WAS active before Varen lost his friend. My DM's pretty crafty, but he promised that the next time we game, he'll reveal how that twist came to be.
...
Yeah, that reveal came as a total surprise to me too (during the game, that is). And I don't know when the next session for this campaign is going to be, so this cliffhanger may have to hold us for a little bit.

Huh, spontaneous divination. Or something in the text, really. But, yeah, I want to read more. There's several possible explanations I can think of as a DM for this plot twist, but I really want to see what exactly yours will use.


However, I still remember a lot of the previous sessions, so I'll probably post some snippets of those soon, definitely starting with the first session. Hopefully, that will help to give my snippet a little bit more context.

I'd love that! Varen looks interesting, and context is always a good thing.


While A Death in the Family is in progress, here's something a little more light-hearted, told from the viewpoint of my Vendel "doctor.":smallamused:

*crawls away laughing* Well done! I can't wait until our local 7th Sea DM gets to read this! Your "doctor" is the quintessential scoundrel, is he not? And very tight-rope walking, too: I loved how he'd risked annoying the captain the second time.

And the character you did this to actually survived? You people are truly heroes in the 7th Sea style!

As for my text, thank you for all the love. ;) For what it's worth, the last line is actually inspired by the favored soul's (Katarina's) player.

When giving me feedback for the session, he actually said something like "I actually wouldn't mind facing the dragon now. If you give us twenty or so rounds to heal." Of course, he also said "and if you give us our wizard back," but that's a whole different story. *evil DM grin*

Lady Moreta: I tried to evoke the "feminine" feeling by making the dragon speak more formally and using diminutives. Looks like it did the trick! ;-)

An-nd the question I've been meaning to ask: what gender does my wizard read as? Well, besides being an elf? ;-)

Vin Robinson
2010-10-06, 02:30 AM
Here is fluff I wrote for my Assassin for my friend Rob's Pathfinder campaign.


Throughout my career as an assassin, I have been good at one thing and one thing alone: making people disappear. The single caveat to my impeccable record is when anyone notices my choice in weaponry -- A tarnished, well-worn Battleaxe. The image of my silent, dour form attacking anyone with a weapon as inherently violent and bloody as my axe has always struck others as odd, and bit disconcerting. The story of my avocation to my line of business is a simple one and based in my childhood.

Like most non-human members of our Beloved Empire, I was thrust into the world destined to be someone's slave. A gift from the Drow to His Majesty's eldest son, I was originally told that I was to be his apprentice. Trained to be made partner in his plantation and eventually become his successor. Until the time when I was meant to be trained, I was to be the Son's personal house servant.

The young man was very particular about how things should be done. My first task was to give all of the floors of his mansion a thorough scrubbing, basement to attic, every day. If the work was not to his satisfaction (which was often) or a single spot missed, I was beaten and made to start the work over again.

My second burden was to ring the bell that would bring all of the laborers to the house. This meant at least four times a day for meals, with more depending on any new orders my master wished to submit to his slaves -- which was quite frequent. I soon discovered that in order to pull the ponderous chain I had to throw the entirety of my weight into it. If I was tired or did not pull the back-breaking apparatus hard enough, my master was soon there to give me a generous thrashing until the bell rang loud and clear.

My third burden was to dust every book and shelf in my master's great library. As old and deep as the shelves were, I had to do the dusting with a cloth on the end of a long and heavy rod. The only way I could see to manage the leviathan was to hold it at shoulder level and then swing it out in a sweeping motion. And again, if any dust was seen left on the shelves, or he didn't think I was working hard enough, the master would give me a beating.

After several years, I grew into a young man, but my responsibilities were not increased. Once I had mastered my servile responsibilities, it was promised to me that I would be taught the Son's trade. Divorced from any knowledge except from my own base engagement, I had no idea how far in debt or how poor the plantation's yields were.

When my sixteenth year came, I was called into the cellar by my benefactor. At first afraid for a thrashing because the floor was not scrubbed to his liking, I was surprised to find him packing all of his possessions into crates.

"I'm leaving the Empire." he explained "The profession has gone sour, and I think I'm going to try my luck running a caravan in the north lands. I understand there's ample money to be made trading fake Duergar weapons to the Barbarians there. I wish I could take you with me, lad, but there isn't going to be need for my scouring, bell-pulling, or dusting where I'm going."

"But master!" said I "I cannot read, I know nothing of the business you were to teach me. What will I do on my own?"

He shrugged. "I'm sure you can find some sort of work in a domestic capacity. I have done my best with you. Goodbye."

I had never stood up to my master before, and I felt no anger only a sort of coldness that gripped my heart. Among his possessions laid an old heavy axe, allegedly of Duergar manufacture. I lifted it in my hands and was surprised to find that it was not much heavier than my familiar dusting rod. In fact, it felt very comfortable as I lifted it to my shoulder and swung it out like so many times before. In this instance, however, I swung it into my master's right arm.

The young man screamed in pain and rage, but for some reason I was not afraid of him anymore. I lifted the axe to my other shoulder, and cut a swath across his chest, dropping him to the floor immediately.

I hesitated as I lifted the axe above my head -- another natural position for me. Like ringing a bell. Over and over again, I swung down like I was ringing that cursed bell. Except this time, no laborers came from the fields. The master had sent them away hours ago.

In a time, there wasn't anything left of the Emperor's Son that couldn't be washed down the cellar drain. The process of cleaning up came naturally to me as well. Blood was much easier to scrub off the floors than the usual grime and flour that habitually covered the cellar.

It was well known that the Emperor's Son was planning to leave for the north, so no one was surprised when he suddenly disappeared. All of the possessions in the house were sold to debt collectors, but I took the axe. It looks like the bastard gave me some useful business skills after all.

By the time they had figured out what had happened, I was already long gone. Awash in the euphoria that was my new found power and freedom.


+1 iCookies to anyone that can guess my character's race.

It seems a bit awkward to me. I did a bit of canon-bending here and it makes my teeth itch.

Lady Moreta
2010-10-06, 03:17 AM
Whatever do you mean?:smalleek:

The way he talks and thinks. "commence with getting the hell out" the star chart reading, and his utter absurdities


An-nd the question I've been meaning to ask: what gender does my wizard read as? Well, besides being an elf? ;-)

My first instinct is to say 'female'... but that could be based on nothing more than the fact that I'm female, and I know you are too. Still, seems somehow feminine to me...


Here is fluff I wrote for my Assassin for my friend Rob's Pathfinder campaign.

+1 iCookies to anyone that can guess my character's race.

First instinct was to say orc or half-orc. Second was dwarf. Read it again, and now am thinking drow.

Am bad at guessing though, so I'm probably wrong on all counts :smalltongue:


It seems a bit awkward to me. I did a bit of canon-bending here and it makes my teeth itch.

Doesn't seem awkward to me. I like a snippet that has no (or not much) dialogue in it. I'm not very good at driving a story forwards without talking, so I admire your skill in making it work. I don't know the mechanics of the game well enough to notice any canon-bending, so you're safe from me there :smallsmile:

Lord_Gareth
2010-10-06, 03:36 AM
Anyone interested in a brief and humorous side-trip into the life of Nikoli Valshren, Tiefling Wererat Paladin (of Pelor)?

Lady Moreta
2010-10-06, 03:49 AM
You know me, I'm always interested :smallsmile:

Wait? Tiefling Wererat paladin? Okay, now I have to know.

Cerlis
2010-10-06, 04:03 AM
Only read stories in first post. Very awesome. Keep it up.


(only thing is, was only able to piece together what happened halfway through Leister's story)

Werekat
2010-10-06, 05:11 AM
Vin Robinson: nice, but there are a few awkward segments. For instance, this one:


Throughout my career as an assassin, I have been good at one thing and one thing alone: making people disappear.

You, er, kinda have to be good at making people disappear to qualify as an assassin (unless you mean illusion magic, but that doesn't seem to be the case ;-)). That's a prerequisite. What you've just said, it seems, is that the character barely meets it - it is the only thing he is good at, all the while being bad at things like getting clients, staying hidden from the law, disappearing himself when things get tough, backups and contingencies, and so on. Maybe I'm wrong, but that's how it read to me from the start. First sentences are the always tough to write, though.

I also don't really understand why the Emperor's Son would be saying goodbye to a simple servant. For that matter, why did anyone bother promising him something? There might be something we're not seeing here, though, since it's a short snippet.

Speaking of which: servant or apprentice? Or do you essentially have Roman slavery, where a good slave was much like a part of the family?

I think your character is a gnome, though. He had a hard time pulling the bell and dusting, and a gnome with a battle axe would certainly be unusual! The only thing that doesn't seem to fit is his age - but at sixteen he could have been a child prodigy.

Lord Gareth: yes, please. :) Included with just how that came to be.

Worlok
2010-10-06, 08:39 AM
You know, lurking in this thread got me to finally sign up for the forums myself. I'd sort of like to submit a few of my own campaign "memories", but looking through them now, the general tone of that one game I've ever been in (on) is rather... weird and so this is pretty much testing the waters: Anyone interested in the adventures of a spellcasting drug-fiend, a megalomaniacal zealot and the owlbear-riding barbarian manchild who adopted them, on their way to perform some epic-level planar plumbing? :smalltongue:

On another note: I really enjoyed the stories in this thread so far. But, and please don't get me wrong, Vin, your story strikes me as eerily familiar... I could have sworn I've heard it somewhere else, in a game, if I recall correctly. I mean, might be coincidence, but I've got a major case of déjà-vu... :smalleek:

Werekat
2010-10-06, 08:54 AM
Worlok: looks like fun. :) Sure, I'm interested.

Pisha
2010-10-06, 09:44 AM
So... this character snippet thing. Can anyone play? 'Cuz I've got a new character whose head I'd like to get into (as well as some old characters whose headspace is just fun to be in!)

big teej
2010-10-06, 03:26 PM
:smallfrown:

I was about half way through typing up "the death of Valek"

but then My conscience struck me....

it's not fair to write a snippet about an NPC the party hired along to fill in for a missing party member.... especially when the party also hired a "tank" who (at the request of the party) was 2 levels higher than them, who dominated in combat......


so much to my chagrin....

I now have no idea what to write about............
I have the "origin stories" of my various characters including
Valek Knifebeard
Roche Smoulderbeard
Cog Skulltaker
Maximillian Thanos
and the second half of "gohk and grok"
for dnd

for phoenix (a superhero expansion for d20 modern)
I have
Liam
and Blacklist

and then..........

A guardsmen from Dark Heresy named Casey.....
so what do yall want me to write up first? the hardest part of this for me is picking what to do next.

Werekat
2010-10-06, 06:52 PM
Pisha: Welcome to the thread! *looks around for the OP and first posters* And, well, I'm pretty sure anyone can play. :)

big teej: why's it bad to write about an NPC? I do that pretty often to get into their heads, and if it's well-written, it should be fine. :) So I vote for Valek. But please, please, please take a bit more care with the punctuation and stuff. It's hard to read as it is now.

As for my stuff: the DM in another one of my games has been reading this, and has asked me why I've not written stuff like that for the character in his game. My answer was, "Because it is a lot harder to write an Int 16, Wis 6 (sic!) CN Duskblade than an Int 18(20), Wis 11 TN wizard." But then I decided I was up to the challenge.

Warning: sewer monsters and appropriate physiological terms abound. Unreliable Overconfident narrator. And, yeah, more weird pop-culture references than the last two.

So, without further ado:


It's Crawlin' Time,
or
You *did* know the enchantment that would have spared you that costs merely 500 GP, right?
...Oh great forsaken weapons of doom! Getting impaled doesn't seem so bad now! At least the green fetid crap in my stomach would spew out!

And I wake with a gasp and a sickening lump in my throat, grasping at my trusty guizarme. What in the thrice-stamped rejection lists of the celestial bureaucracy was that!?

A half-conscious moan from my left... Bagheera brought a man in again?!

No. Damn it. This ain't gonna be solved with a pillow down someone's throat.

The warlock is thrashing about, foaming at the mouth, obviously unconscious.

Now, hey, I'm a caster, I can beat any of the pure academy mages in a straight fight, provided they're in reach. But this? When you see something like this, you know you'll want a cleric.

So I burst into the neighboring room, and let them be envious of the silken underwear and the sexy guizarme.

"Hassan, Cris! Wake up, you accursed sloths!"

Hassan is already wide awake, and looking like he'd swallowed a frog. Cris's reaction is more like mine - the bow is tight in his hands way before he opens his eyes. The hawk, his companion, squawks angrily.

"Wha?.. Bashira?"

"Right you are, pal. There's something wrong with Bagheera, go and see, while I get my armor on! I've a feeling this is going to stink royally."

Cris is already pulling his pants on, so I get back into my room and start dressing myself, while Hassan makes sure our warlock doesn't drown in slobber. Not that she needs much more drool to pull that off, but thanks to the priest's timely intervention, she doesn't. Good for us, I guess, bad for my sleep in nights to come.

I snap the last of my armor into place, activating my favorite glamor - a charming silken dress - and look outside.

Whoa. Whatever it was, it woke up the city! Lights are everywhere...
Everywhere I know mages and clerics live. And in some places I'm not sure of. Let's see if I can map those tomorrow.

Anyway. Looks like we just got work of some kind. Now just where is it?..

Ooh. Is that a black puddle... Rising to the first floor window level... Rising to the second floor? Crawling out of the sewers? Lesseee, what do we remember about those?

Right. Crap-eating oozes that are usually contained by the city's mages. Good news: these don't split when harmed, to control their population. Bad news: they still eat everything in sight.

Eeedjits. I always said the local mages were just like, "Ooh, I wanna be digested by my own handi - if those were made by hands and not other organs! - handiwork. But, hey, we get to clean up and we get paid, right?

"Great." Cris says, already by my side. I can see the look in his eyes.
They have little gold coins circling around the irises. "Ready to fight a few jellies?"

"Always ready!" I laugh.

"Bagheera seems to be safe." Hassan reports. "Let me get my weapons."

Cris notches an arrow and lazily shoots into the blackness. It... Dissolves.

Great. If I touch it with my guizarme, it'll eat it, too. And I don't have many reach spells. Backup, then.

And then the pungent thing is in our faces.

"Whoa! That was quick!" I yell, as I dodge a pseudopod.

Cris isn't so lucky, and I hear the ranger's hoarse voice cry out in
pain. And it's got him choked. And half-dissolved. Quick indeed!

I punch it.

"ARRGGet back to your outhouse, you stupid jelly! Cris, RUN!" And the jelly appears across the street. Too bad there's no cliff to drop it off here.

The ranger dives back into the healing embrace of our cleric. I hope to follow suit, but just as I turn to run, I feel a searing pain, as it lashes across my back and whirls around my chest.

MY ARMOR!

But I slip out of its tentacle, just in time to see two more arrows embed themselves in the ooze.

"That was charmed mithril, you annoying little..."

"Bashira!"

"My armor, you bastard! I am SO going to get the one who summoned you..."

"Bashira, curse you!"

"...and make them eat their intestines, all the while being..."

"Bashira, listen!" Cris's yell finally gets across. "We need to get out of here! Outside, where we can maneuver!"

"Right. But don't dissuade me on the intestines thing!"

"Er, Bashira?" Hassan hands me a sheet.

"Thanks!" I wrap it around my burned chest hastily. Oooh, someone's gonna pay in the most painful coin possible.

We run out, and Cris shoots it some more. So do I, with magic, but I can't really do much without a reach weapon. Note to self: finally buy bow again! I broke my first one back in training and never looked back. It might help next time, though.

But the ooze still notices Cris and starts crawling towards him. I distract it with a bit of cold, and it lashes out with a massive tentacle again.

Owwowowowow.

And a couple more arrows. When's it gonna die?!

"Bashira, catch!" Our cleric shouts, and throws me a crossbow.

I snatch it out of the air as I dodge some more attacks.

"Hey, AI-less crapshoot, eat this!" And it quivers and loses structure, black waves of stinking mass disintegrating as they cascade down, down, down.

"Whoo!"

"Don't be so optimistic!" Cris yells.

Yep, that was a bit early. One more is crawling out of the hellhole which the first one came through, and another one is somewhat off, but not by far.

So we start shooting again, and the cleric starts summoning. Not that it works too well: when the crap monsters are as big as the houses and fill the street, it's a bit hard not go get caught between two who have crawled out on opposite sides of yours. But they're way too slow, and we do just as I predicted - shoot one quickly enough to get a "get out of reach" card for free from the other one.

I just have time to withdraw and turn around, and aim, when suddenly we hear a bit more twanging than our bow and crossbow could make together even if they had bowstring babies from every shot fired, and the last jelly finally dissolves.

The guard. Armed with crossbows, all. Killstealers!

Well, we can steal a few kills from them.

"Are you all right?" Their leader calls out.

"Somewhat digested, but otherwise fine." Cris says grimly. "Are there more of these?"

"A lot more." The guard answers. "The city's drowning in them!" Looks like the sewers have broken down finally and completely. What *have* they been feeding those oozes so that they rebel? Oh, right, crap. Not that they care.

"I say we go and get the others. Right NOW." I interject, snarling. "Whoever did this gots me an armor to buy."

"Err, Bashira." Cris says, staring. The guards also stare. Oh, right, cloth-eating.

Hassan just hands me a new piece of sheet with a prayer on top.

"Good as new!" I say, tying the final knot in my makeshift dress. "Let's go get them bastards!"

big teej
2010-10-06, 09:30 PM
big teej: why's it bad to write about an NPC? I do that pretty often to get into their heads, and if it's well-written, it should be fine. :) So I vote for Valek. But please, please, please take a bit more care with the punctuation and stuff. It's hard to read as it is now.


because I was DMing, and the NPC barbarian they took along completely dominated combat..... :smallredface:

so I felt guilty writing about said exploits...

Lady Moreta
2010-10-06, 11:58 PM
Only read stories in first post. Very awesome. Keep it up.

(only thing is, was only able to piece together what happened halfway through Leister's story)

Thank you :smallsmile: Well, I wasn't trying to hide what had happened or make anyone guess. It wasn't outright clear because he was thinking about what had happened in the past. He already knew what had gone on that day, and because the dialouge was mostly internal, he wasn't going to start narrating.


You know, lurking in this thread got me to finally sign up for the forums myself. I'd sort of like to submit a few of my own campaign "memories", but looking through them now, the general tone of that one game I've ever been in (on) is rather... weird and so this is pretty much testing the waters: Anyone interested in the adventures of a spellcasting drug-fiend, a megalomaniacal zealot and the owlbear-riding barbarian manchild who adopted them, on their way to perform some epic-level planar plumbing? :smalltongue:

I want to hear about planar plumbing. It sounds like fun :smallbiggrin:


Pisha: Welcome to the thread! *looks around for the OP and first posters* And, well, I'm pretty sure anyone can play. :)

*waves hand* Please join us Pisha :smallsmile:


So, without further ado:


It's Crawlin' Time,
or
You *did* know the enchantment that would have spared you that costs merely 500 GP, right?

Ummm... wow. That was quite different from your last couple. Well done for changing your writing style so completely for the different characters. I'm impressed. That's one thing I really struggle with.

Only one thing I noticed that wasn't quite right:

it's a bit hard not go get caught between two

I think there's a word missing in that sentence, it doesn't make sense. I did find it a bit hard to get into... it was a bit jarring having someone wake up and have a companion having a fit. Made me wonder what on earth had happened that they hadn't noticed. But the flow improved as it went on.


because I was DMing, and the NPC barbarian they took along completely dominated combat..... :smallredface:

so I felt guilty writing about said exploits...

So? :smalltongue: I wanna hear about him too.

Machuchang
2010-10-07, 12:46 AM
So I burst into the neighboring room, and let them be envious of the silken underwear and the sexy guizarme.



"A lot more." The guard answers. "The city's drowning in them!" Looks like the sewers have broken down finally and completely. What *have* they been feeding those oozes so that they rebel? Oh, right, crap. Not that they care.

"I say we go and get the others. Right NOW." I interject, snarling. "Whoever did this gots me an armor to buy."

"Err, Bashira." Cris says, staring. The guards also stare. Oh, right, cloth-eating.

Hassan just hands me a new piece of sheet with a prayer on top.

"Good as new!" I say, tying the final knot in my makeshift dress. "Let's go get them bastards!"

Oh man! I laughed SO hard at these two parts. Very well done!


because I was DMing, and the NPC barbarian they took along completely dominated combat..... :smallredface:

so I felt guilty writing about said exploits...

Aww, come on! I got so hyped about hearing that story, the least you could do is let us see it.:smallbiggrin:


You know, lurking in this thread got me to finally sign up for the forums myself. I'd sort of like to submit a few of my own campaign "memories", but looking through them now, the general tone of that one game I've ever been in (on) is rather... weird and so this is pretty much testing the waters: Anyone interested in the adventures of a spellcasting drug-fiend, a megalomaniacal zealot and the owlbear-riding barbarian manchild who adopted them, on their way to perform some epic-level planar plumbing? :smalltongue:


DO IT!


So... this character snippet thing. Can anyone play? 'Cuz I've got a new character whose head I'd like to get into (as well as some old characters whose headspace is just fun to be in!)

As far as I'm aware, yeah. No one's kicked me out yet. It's a whole lot of fun and is really a great way to get into your character's way of thinking. I'd love to see what you have to write!


Anyway, I've got another episode from Varen's past. The first session of this campaign in fact, way back when he was just a Level 1 Paladin. They grow up so fast...

*ahem*

Defiance
(or Coup de Graces Don't Work That Way...)
It had been a long day of training at the monastery, and I was just happy for it all to be over. The warm evening air that at other times could have been pleasant now felt incredibly oppressive against my sweaty skin, and all I wanted at that moment was to cool off. Too tired to even remove my armor, I trudged down the winding, sloped path from the training grounds to the creek. I sat down heavily on the bank of the river and dipped my hands into the water, savoring its cool temperature. Relaxing, I closed my eyes…

Only to be disturbed by a sharp tap to the back of my head.

“You know Varen, normal people wash their hands in a basin,”

I turned around and smiled at my new company.

“Well Tali, normal people don’t knock out half of the monastery with a wooden sword in combat drills,” I teased as I flicked water at her. “So as an extraordinary person, I’m sure you must have come here to wash your hands, unless I owe something else to your visit?” I grinned cheekily up at her.

“Father Daugherty sent me to come get you,” she said while trying and failing to contain a smile. “It’s dinnertime now, and if you don’t get a move on, there won’t be any left. Come on, we’ll walk on up together,”

Slowly, I brought myself to my feet and followed her up the path when she suddenly stopped, her eyes focused on something rising above the line of trees. I followed her gaze to see a billowing, thick, black cloud wafting over the trees.

“Smoke…” her voice trailed off and her face went pale. The next thing I knew, she was running far ahead of me on the path. Frightened and confused, I followed her as closely as I could, worried about losing her in the clouds of smoke that had started to descend upon the path. Assaulted from all ends by the choking fumes, my eyes began to water and my breath became short and labored.

No, it couldn’t be! It just wasn’t possible!

But is was. As I dashed out of the choking smoke, I was stopped dead in my tracks by the sight of the priory, ablaze. I watched in terrified fascination as the flames quickly climbed over the monastery, engulfing it all in flame.

Even worse, though, was what I saw happening around the burning wreck of my home. A massive horde of barbarians, both human and orc, wearing the skulls of animals as helmets, were locked in combat with my brothers and sisters at-arms. Dead bodies were strewn about the grounds haphazardly, illuminated by the flames and much to my horror, most of them were of people I knew. I knelt down next to the corpse of an old friend, and muttered a quick prayer for his soul as I took his sword and shield. He wouldn’t be needing them anymore.

“Oh gods, Natalia,” I said softly, trying to hold the back my choking sobs. “What are we going to do?”

No answer. I looked up in alarm, just in time to see Natalia disappear into the abbey.

“Tali! Wait!” I screamed, as I prepared to give chase. But as I went to move after her, the giant Eight-Pointed Star, the sign of our order, fell from the roof, blocking the entry into the abbey. Disheartened, I turned around, only find that my around had been cut off by two of the strange tribesmen, one wearing a bear’s skull, the other a wolf‘s. The skull masks they wore were illuminated eerily by the light of the flames as they began to close in around me. I brought up my shield just in time to deflect an axe blow from the orc wearing a bear skull. He snarled and hefted his weapon, preparing for another strike.

“This ‘un looks like he’ll be a lot of fun!” the slender human wearing a wolf skull cackled menacingly as he circled behind me, twirling two thin blades in his hands. He lashed at me, and I ducked one dagger easily, only to be caught by the second as he whipped it upwards. I staggered backwards as blood dripped from my forehead across my face. Blinking my eyes to keep my vision clear, I turned towards my new assailant, only to be struck in the back by the orc as he rammed me. I fell to the ground at the feet of the human, who jabbed at me with both blades at once. I lashed back with my shield and heard two satisfying tings as I knocked the daggers from his hands. Using the momentum from the block, I spun upwards and caught him in the neck with my sword. He fell to ground as I regained my footing, turning to face the orc. The orc screamed in rage and brought his axe around in a vicious arc which I neatly sidestepped. Taking advantage of his opening, I rammed into him, sword first. By the time he hit the ground, I was already gone, trying to get into the abbey some other way.

“Natalia!? Tali!? Where are you!?” I shouted at the top of my lungs, trying to make myself heard over the clamor of the battle. A woman’s chilling scream was the only reply I received. I ran as fast as I could in the direction of the cry, arriving just in time to see the screaming woman driven to the ground. I moved as quickly as I could to try and save her, but I was too late. Her opponent casually slammed his two sword through her chest, before turning to me. Cold sweat ran down my neck as I gazed at him in complete and utter fear. He was truly a figure straight out of a nightmare, wearing a horrible mask crafted from the fused skulls of a variety of monsters. Over his rusted chain link was the skull of a dragon, and a tattered hide cloak lay draped over his shoulders. Worst of all, he was covered in blood. The blood of my friends.

“You will know fear, tool of the emperor,” he said as he stalked towards me, his voice garbled by some strange magic in his mask. Coolly, he unsheathed a second sword, twirling one in each hand. “For I am the Deathwind. Know my name well, for it shall be the only thing you will remember in the afterlife,” I hid behind my shield, tensing myself in preparation for his inevitable assault. He unleashed blow after blow, each powerful strike hammering into my shield, pushing me back. Before I knew it, I had been driven to my knees, my shield the only thing keeping his blades away. Then, with a loud crack, why shield was shattered into splinters and his sword was embedded deep into my left arm.

I screamed in agony, only to be cut short by the flat of his other blade as he brought it full-force into my face. My head hit the ground, and as I laid there, stunned and prone, he slowly twirled his blades once more, preparing for the coup de grace. I closed my eyes, and heard the whoosh of the air as he brought his blades downward.

Keen!

Blinking, I opened my eyes to see why I was not yet dead. Natalia stood over me, a greatsword in her hands. The Deathwind stood opposite her, a large gash in his side, blood dripping down his armor.

“Bitch!” he shrieked as he whipped his swords up. “I will make you regret this interference!” With that, he charged, blades held high. He brought his left around in a wide circle, which Natalia easily parried. As his right came around, she twisted herself, knocking his blade aside with her shoulder pad. But this threw off her balance, bringing her too close to him to use her blade. To my utter horror, the Deathwind took advantage of this opening, grasping her tightly in a bear hug.

“Varen, get up!” she screamed at me. “RUN!” I tried to move, but couldn't, my body far beyond my control. Lying there on the ground, I could only watch in dismay as the Deathwind slammed his head into hers with a sickening crunch. She went limp in his arms before he dropped her nonchalantly to the ground, making his way over to me.

“She’s cute,” the Deathwind said, his voice taking on a strange, high-pitched, mocking tone, far removed from his previous manner of speaking. “Don’t worry though. She’s not dead,” he chuckled darkly. “I’ll just make her wish she was. She‘ll make a great souvenir! And the best part is, she couldn’t even protect you!” he rammed one of his swords deep into my gut to emphasize his point. “She will regret this day... for as long as I decide to keep her alive. As for you…” his voice suddenly became deep once more “Any last words, boy?!”

“I…” I coughed weakly. “Will… h-hunt you to the ends of the earth… The n-next t-time I see you… I will kill you…” I swore. “And gods help you, if you lay one hand on Natalia, there will not be a piece of you left for anyone to find! It is you who will regret this day!”

“You are brave,” the Deathwind murmured. “I will await our confrontation, should you truly survive,” With that, he drove his second blade through my chest, before turning and walking away, only stopping to carry Tali away.

Lying on the ground, my vision began to blur, then darken, but I refused to die. Not here. Not now. Not like this. The barbarian army slowly pulled away, and I was left among the dead. Yet I refused to join them. With all my strength, I screamed in defiance.






“NATALIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”


tl;dr It takes a long time for any real action to occur, Natalia gets kidnapped, and Varen demonstrates a surprising tendency to not die.

Lady Moreta
2010-10-07, 02:21 AM
I liked it :smallsmile: I have a soft spot for straight out heroics like that. And I like paladins too.



Then, with a loud crack, why shield was shattered into splinters and his sword was embedded deep into my left arm.

Typo?


I screamed in agony, only to be cut short by the flat of his other blade as he brought it full-force into my face. My head hit the ground, and as I laid there, stunned and prone, he slowly twirled his blades once more, preparing for the coup de grace. I closed my eyes, and heard the whoosh of the air as he brought his blades downward.

Keen!

Blinking, I opened my eyes to see why I was not yet dead.

I will admit, this bit - namely the 'keen' doesn't really make sense to me. Perhaps because the first thing it makes me think of is the idea of making a weapon keen to deal extra damage. But I'm not sure what you're trying to signify with it. The sound the blades made moving through the air? The fact that all Varen could think about was that the blades were keen and going to kill him? The writing is good, but I am not sure this was quite the right descriptive word to use here.

Werekat
2010-10-07, 07:27 AM
Ummm... wow. That was quite different from your last couple. Well done for changing your writing style so completely for the different characters. I'm impressed. That's one thing I really struggle with.

*laughs* Well, that's because Bashira (which, incidentally, means "bearer of good news," if online name lists are to be believed, and coincides nicely with "bash" in English) is a total contrast to the usual character archetypes I play. I play mages - generalists, and sometimes diviners, who are usually very careful not to let their hair down until actually safe (and how often does that happen when you adventure?). They're also generally quiet, careful, but fierce when you cross them. They don't enjoy battle - or at least they don't admit it to themselves - but they'll do battle. They're also, whichever gender, relatively ignorant of gender issues. They just don't care, mostly, and those they love or form liaisons with are of either gender. There's plenty of room to make characters different in these bounds, but usually I have at least a few of these traits in my characters.

Bashira's loud and opinionated ("there's no point in being powerful if you're not free to say what you want"), wants fame, social standing, and money (in that order), and enjoys the fact that after that little stunt she'll be recognized by most of the city as totally crazy (half - in a good way, half - in a bad way). She's very female, flaunting her beauty (not that there's much of it, Cha 12, but she doesn't care), but she can do anything she wants with the rest of them, and anyone who disagrees can just get a reach weapon down an orifice of choice. She's also way too wrapped up in herself to let little things like monsters and public opinions get in her way (Oh, Wis 6, how I love thee), though she might listen to a companion... If not busy with something else. It would have been really hard to write her the same way as Jailin!

Basically, for me it comes down to figuring out where the characters differ in perception, and then writing what they see accordingly. It takes me a long time, though. I need between 5 to 10 sessions to actually get a character's voice (that's 30-50 hours gaming time - way too long for most people), and after I do get them, they tend to stick around for years and years.

It gets really hard to do different voices in things like philosophical discussions, though. I've a big work in Russian, where the two lead characters often engage in philosophical speculation, and not making them sound identical when they're both following dispute conventions is very hard.


I think there's a word missing in that sentence, it doesn't make sense. I did find it a bit hard to get into... it was a bit jarring having someone wake up and have a companion having a fit. Made me wonder what on earth had happened that they hadn't noticed. But the flow improved as it went on.

Yeah, a typo. It should have been "not to get caught."
And, yeah, the waking up was really random in the campaign, too. I should probably have mentioned it was also pretty dark, and the priest of fire's flaming hands. I'll probably edit it once I add the embellishments.


Oh man! I laughed SO hard at these two parts. Very well done!

Thank you!



Defiance
(or Coup de Graces Don't Work That Way...)

Pluses: does shed the light on your backstory, articulate, very appropriately horrific. A nice contrast between the serenity of the initial scene and the horror of what happened next. Serenity's hard, but you have it down in a few strokes, and that's good.

Minuses (very subjective!): 1) Seconding the "keen" thing.

2) The classic - show, don't tell. Now, mind you, this is the single hardest thing to do ever when writing in first-person, and it's something I personally struggle with a lot. That's why it's noticeable for me. You have to strike a balance between showing the audience the scenery - what the person actually sees, third-person style - and what they're thinking and feeling about it. You lean very heavily into third-person.

The rules my editors always gave me sounded like this: don't describe your own actions ("grinned cheekily at her" - whether it was "cheeky" is for Natalia to describe), don't describe the actual details of what happens - describe what the character notices, don't describe as if he's seeing himself from the outside - describe what the character sees.The exception to this is when the character's actually trying to notice what he's doing for some reason ("I'm typing at this keyboard now, the familiar sound of the clicks somehow disturbing, and yet I need this experience to finish my example".)

Battle scenes are especially hard to do in this regard. If you have an excuse to monologue while you're in a relatively calm situation, you don't have one when you're struggling for your life. Basically, you need to know if your character is even capable of noticing things, because perception narrows in combat, and even very obvious things can sometimes get ignored. Or if, maybe, his perception sharpens, and he takes in every detail - but then it's still from his perspective, and not from third person. Maybe time speeds up for him (the "Wha? It's all over?" syndrome), or maybe it slows down (from personal experience, yes, it's possible to completely formulate a battle strategy in under a second. But it's just as possible to be paralyzed with fear). And other stuff like that. Generic description does not work well in combat.

The study of what exactly people focus on in combat is very interesting. There are two books available in English, both by Dave Grossman - "On Killing" and "On Combat," which describe the process in great detail, and I use them as a reference constantly. Of authors who work in fiction, Zelazny's probably my favorite, especially "The Chronicles of Amber." You can see that the author knows his martial arts and has been in hand-to-hand.

For examples closer to home: I think it worked better in your first piece. Though not without misses, you still focus more on your character than the general detail. And I really like the way Marillion and Lord Gareth do it, actually. Nearly every detail in their stories defines what the current focal character sees in the situation, at the same time providing us with enough information to make our own conclusions about what's going on.

I hope you don't mind the extensive criticism - if you do (if anyone does, really), I'll keep quiet about stuff like that from now on. It's still an interesting read - I, too, have a soft spot (read: love-hate relationship) with paladins, and I really want to see where Varen goes from there, but right now it's a mish-mash of styles. And it's hard to keep quiet about it because I've already seen you do better. :)

On a side note: anyone want an old snippet or two from WoD games? Or shall we keep it D&D and related?

Pisha
2010-10-07, 01:47 PM
Heh, thanks. Hi, everyone!

Ok... here's one I was working on for a new character of mine, a hobgoblin named Hakar. The game is set in Eberron; the tone is a little slow and introspective, but then again so is the character. (And yes, he really does talk like that.) Sorry if it's long.


The barmaid brings me my tankard with a smile. The smile broadens when I hand her coins, but it seemed genuine from the first, and I am glad I gave her too much money. She has kind eyes. The smile brightens her face, and for a moment she is beautiful. I smile back, though I know she cannot see it, and nod my head in thanks.

Almost out of instinct, I splash a little bit out into the fire near our table. Over the hissing, I murmur quiet thanks to Olladra for the gift of beer to make us joyful. Leaning back into the shadows then, I cautiously raise my visor and take a sip. It is good. Humans do not brew as well as dwarves do, but they appreciate the finer things in life.

Treestrider leans over to me, lightly touching the raised visor. “Why are you keeping your helmet on at all? Isn’t that uncomfortable?” There is frank curiosity in his voice; I am pleased that I can hear it. Three months ago I would not have been able to. I wonder briefly whether this is because he has become more at ease with me, and therefore more expressive, or whether I have simply learned to listen better. “A few people are staring at you.”

“That may be.” I raise an eyebrow at him. “Do you imagine they would stare less if they could see my face?” I peer at him from beneath my raised helm.

His wooden head tilts slightly to one side, the glowing fire in his eyes flickering briefly. “Are you afraid of them?”

I smile then, unable to help it. “My friend, there is very little that I fear.” With my tankard, I indicate the rest of the room. “But look at these people. They are happy. Enjoying the evening. As am I, despite any discomfort from my helmet.” I take another sip of beer. “If I were to remove my helmet, many of these people would become afraid of me. And I would be unhappy, because I find it unpleasant to be feared. Some of them might even try to hurt me, and I would have to do violence to prevent that – which I do not want.”

He sits back. Like all warforged, he is an enigma – an old soul in a young body. In some ways, Treestrider knows more of life than I do; in others, he is still a child. I do not know how much he truly understands about the differences between the fleshy races, or why a hobgoblin like myself would not get a warm welcome in a human tavern no matter whose symbol he wears around his neck. To illustrate the point, I wave a hand at our newfound companions, at their own table a little ways away. “Do you see how they react to Phut?”

In truth, reaction to him is mixed. For every human who stares suspiciously at him, another laughs despite himself. The feisty woman he’s currently engaging in banter might have something to do with that. They are a mismatched pair, Phut and Tuph – a large barbarian orc and his pint-sized halfling partner, born on opposite sides of the continent but so close they could have been raised together. That novelty alone would be enough to make him a curiosity rather than a threat in some people’s eyes. Mostly, though, I suspect it is simply Phut himself. For all his size and ferocity, for all his lack of social graces and distinctly un-human features, there is something about his guileless grin and booming laugh that makes people like him. It is something I never learned, how to be easy with people and put them at ease in return. Even with that, though, there are still some who are clearly not comfortable with him in their tavern. Their mutters and glares are not subtle. He doesn’t seem to notice – although, to judge from their postures, the remaining members of their quartet do. The elf Meloria appears to be reading a book and ignoring them, but her pose is too casual and her shoulders are stiff; Vel engages them in conversation, but his smile never reaches his eyes.

“They did rescue us from that cavern,” I say quietly, answering a question Treestrider never asked. “It would be gracious of us to assist them in their endeavors for a time.” He grunts. Glancing over, I see he is drawing again, filling his leather-bound book with sketches and blueprints for armor modifications that I know he’ll never make. I continue. “And we will need their help if we ever hope to go back and face that thing in the deeps. It needs to be destroyed. I do not think we can do so on our own.” He grunts again. It might be agreement or disagreement, or it may simply be an acknowledgement that I have spoken.

I sit back as well, enjoying my beer and taking pleasure in the companionable silence. Treestrider is good to travel with. I know he likes the idea of traveling further into the humans’ settled lands as little as I do, but I hope he will decide, like me, to accompany this group. I would be sad to part ways with him.

Long minutes go by in which neither of us speaks. After our long captivity in the caves, I savor the simple joy of sitting in a tavern with a friend, hearing the laughter around us. After a while I finish my beer and lower my visor again; the barmaid graces me with another room-brightening smile as she picks up the empty mug.

As she leaves, Treestrider stirs. Without lifting his head, he says, “If any of the humans here tried to hurt you, they would have to go through me.” His voice is very quiet and very implacable, and despite his muted inflections I can hear the anger under his words. It is a deep anger, an old anger, and I realize anew that the desire to avenge old wrongs is still in him. There is a part of him that would not mind a fight tonight.

Something stirs in my soul in response. The old thing, the red thing, the fire that still burns. In the back of my mind, a sweetly reasonable whisper wonders if he might be right. After all, to harm the innocent is an evil act. If these humans picked a fight with me, knowing nothing of me and when I had done them no harm, wouldn’t it then be my duty to punish their wickedness? As one who has sworn to eradicate evil, would it not be proper to allow these men to expose whatever evil might be in their hearts, so that it does not go unchastised? And behind and beneath these arguments, the voice of the Fury growls. The faded marks on my shoulders tingle, and I feel the old lust for blood and violence rise.

It is a feeling as tiresome as it is familiar. Reaching up, I touch the crude wooden pendant, not much bigger than a coin, that hangs from my neck. As my fingers trace the symbol carved onto it, I silently offer a prayer to the Bright Lady, Dol Arrah, noblest of the Sovereign Host and my personal patron. As if in response, a feeling of peace and joy washes over me, like stepping out of darkness into sunlight, and I push my darker urges aside as I have done so many times.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” I say, after a pause. “But who would be helped by it? To interrupt peace and happiness with anger and violence would ruin these people’s nights as well as my own. They are not my enemy.” Nor yours. I lay a hand on his arm, the smooth wood warm to my touch. “I am grateful for your concern, but it is misplaced. I am happy tonight. Leave it be.” He meets my gaze, and I smile, hoping he can read the sincerity behind it. After a moment, he nods, and his eyes brighten in what I have come to realize is an answering smile of his own. Clapping him on the shoulder, I lean forward and beckon the barmaid to bring another round.

Thank you, my Lady. As the merriment around us continues, I thank Dol Arrah once again for calming my mind and showing me, in a hundred small ways every day, how to walk the path of virtue and honor.

For that is the duty of a paladin.



And in answer to the earlier question, I for one would like to see snippets from WoD!

Lady Moreta
2010-10-07, 10:35 PM
Bashira's loud and opinionated ("there's no point in being powerful if you're not free to say what you want"), wants fame, social standing, and money (in that order), and enjoys the fact that after that little stunt she'll be recognized by most of the city as totally crazy (half - in a good way, half - in a bad way).

She's very entertaining!


Basically, for me it comes down to figuring out where the characters differ in perception, and then writing what they see accordingly. It takes me a long time, though. I need between 5 to 10 sessions to actually get a character's voice (that's 30-50 hours gaming time - way too long for most people), and after I do get them, they tend to stick around for years and years.

Wow. I wish I could manage that. I'm afraid I just don't think fast enough on my feet to pull it off. Not in game anyway. That's why I started writing snippets. Heck, I have sometimes asked my husband to give me warning if he's going to mess with my character, just in general, so I have time to consider how she'd respond. I was never happy with the way I had Silver react to the succubus, and afterwards I mentioned to my husband that I wish'd he' warned me. A simple "I'm going to mess with bringing up Silver's past" would have been enough for me to start thinking of ways to react. Fortunately, my darling is a very easy-going DM and doesn't actually mind doing things like that.



2) The classic - show, don't tell. Now, mind you, this is the single hardest thing to do ever when writing in first-person, and it's something I personally struggle with a lot. That's why it's noticeable for me. You have to strike a balance between showing the audience the scenery - what the person actually sees, third-person style - and what they're thinking and feeling about it. You lean very heavily into third-person.

This is really hard to do. I struggle with it as well, which is why I started writing snippets, to help my first-person writing. My biggest struggle is something I've noticed - when writing in first person, I have a bad habit of putting things into the past tense when they shouldn't be. I think I did it a lot with the succubus story. I kept switching between Silver essentially going over what had happened in her mind, and her describing it as if it were happening at that very moment. I was much more careful when doing the Fire Elemental one, and I think I did better, but it's something to keep an eye on.


The rules my editors always gave me sounded like this: don't describe your own actions ("grinned cheekily at her" - whether it was "cheeky" is for Natalia to describe), don't describe the actual details of what happens - describe what the character notices, don't describe as if he's seeing himself from the outside - describe what the character sees.The exception to this is when the character's actually trying to notice what he's doing for some reason

This is fantastic advice. I just want to argue one point... what if your character is deliberatly going for a cheeky grin? If they know that's what they're doing, why can't they describe it as such. For example, I know what my own 'cheeky grin' looks like. If I were going to write about me grinning cheekily at my husband, I wouldn't need him to describe it as being 'cheeky'. I know that's what I'm doing, and I know that's how it would come across.

The exception that I can see is if you attempt a cheeky grin and it fails for whatever reason. Then I would say the character would need to describe seeing the person's adverse reaction and realisation that their cheeky grin failed. You only find out that it was meant to be cheeky as they muse on it and realise it wasn't.


The study of what exactly people focus on in combat is very interesting. There are two books available in English, both by Dave Grossman - "On Killing" and "On Combat," which describe the process in great detail, and I use them as a reference constantly.

I might have to look them up :smallsmile:


Heh, thanks. Hi, everyone!

Ok... here's one I was working on for a new character of mine, a hobgoblin named Hakar. The game is set in Eberron; the tone is a little slow and introspective, but then again so is the character. (And yes, he really does talk like that.) Sorry if it's long.

A hobgoblin paladin? I love it! (we had a hobgoblin npc for a while, I grew quite fond of him).

Your first paragraph is just beautiful. One of the best I've ever read. First paragraphs are a right nuisance to write, I hate them with a passion, but that was fantastic. You give us all the information we need - we know we're in a bar or inn, we know something is up because she cannot see the character smile (somehow I knew it was male). And yet, there is something very sad in the writing. Something a little melancholy. It grabs you and makes you want to read the rest, to find out what's wrong.

The description of Phut and Tuph is very cute too... probably because it reminds me of the half-orc/halfling friendship we had right at the start of our game (players were married and decided their characters knew each other).

I like the way you describe him thinking and debating with himself to reveal their evil or not. You do a fantastic job of letting us know he's a paladin without ever coming out and saying it (except right at the end). You bring him right to the brink of being a Miko - and then ever so gently turn him write around. You also have made me very curious about the glowing and the fire and what the hang happened when they were prisoners.

Very well done. I look forward to seeing more.


And in answer to the earlier question, I for one would like to see snippets from WoD!

I second this. I have no idea what WoD is, but I'm still interested :smallsmile:

Also, just finished a snippet. I will say right now that I don't think it's very good, and I'm not happy with the ending. But I'm shattered right now (been a long week and I'm still at work), and I don't think I can make it better.


Growing Pains
or Mama, it's Time to Let Go

Lirrin came charging into the family room, waving a piece of paper above her head. She slapped it down on the table and announced

“I know what I want to do!”

As soon as she said that, I knew my baby girl had grown up and wasn’t going to take no for an answer. I felt my heart constrict as I picked up the paper she had laid on the table. I knew my daughter, and I knew that whatever she wanted to do would involve her standing in front of others and would likely get her killed.

She has a big heart, my girl.

I smiled at her, so young and so exuberant, and read the notice:

Citizens of ‘Area’

As you are aware, the Plague of Shadows has ended. For this, we thank the paladin Lord Lester, and the group known as The Celadians.

This plague has taken a toll on all of us. However, we are all dependent on the protection and commerce generated by the city of Dandanagan. To ensure the survival of this city, we need replacements for members of the city guard lost to the plague. Therefore, we request that all willing citizens report to the Central Barracks in Dandanagan by ‘xyz date’.

In serving your city, you serve us all.

It seemed a little grandiose to me, but it had clearly captured Lirrin’s imagination.

“You want to become a city guard?” I asked, a little baffled I’ll admit. I had pictured – well, more for my firstborn. She was so vibrant, so vital, so much in love with life. I had always imagined her leaving this village; but only so she could move on to bigger and better things. Leaving to join the city guard of Dandanagan? Not quite what I’d had in mind.

“Absolutely!” she beamed at me

“Why?” I asked the question a little more bluntly than perhaps I should have, as Lirrin gave me that hurt look that was so devastating when she was a child. “I’m not refusing you child, I’m just – curious. It’s not what I had expected from you.”

She looks at me, puzzled

“What do you mean Mama?” I sighed inwardly, taking care to hide it from her. How was I supposed to explain that I had always anticipated more from her without making it sound as though I was disappointed in her choice. There was nothing wrong with being a city guard after all.

“You have such a thirst for adventure” I said finally. “I had expected that you would eventually leave to seek adventure and a fortune.”

“But – being in the city guard will be an adventure!” Lirrin’s voice rose with excitement. “I’ve never been to a big city before, and there’ll be adventurers and temples and paladins and and maybe even-” her voice dropped to a whisper “the Celadians.”

Ahhh, hero worship. It’s been a while since I felt that tug. I carefully laid the piece of paper back on the table.

“Lirrin,” I started, very carefully keeping any concerns out of my voice. I could talk them over with Rikad later. “If this is what you want, then your father and I will support you as much as we can. All I can ask is that you take care of yourself – and, write us often?”

“Thank you Mama!”

She beamed at me, and in two steps had pulled me into a massive hug. Great gods that girl is strong! Perhaps she’ll do better than I think.

Pisha
2010-10-08, 02:11 AM
A hobgoblin paladin? I love it! (we had a hobgoblin npc for a while, I grew quite fond of him).

:smallbiggrin: Our main D&D game has a goblin Arcane Trickster; after playing with him for over a year, any party without a "monstrous" PC just feels wrong!



Your first paragraph is just beautiful. One of the best I've ever read. First paragraphs are a right nuisance to write, I hate them with a passion, but that was fantastic. You give us all the information we need - we know we're in a bar or inn, we know something is up because she cannot see the character smile (somehow I knew it was male). And yet, there is something very sad in the writing. Something a little melancholy. It grabs you and makes you want to read the rest, to find out what's wrong.

Heh, well... thanks. *blushes* That's exactly what I was going for, I'm glad to know it came across!



The description of Phut and Tuph is very cute too... probably because it reminds me of the half-orc/halfling friendship we had right at the start of our game (players were married and decided their characters knew each other).

IRL, they're a brother-sister team. I was a little unsure of them at first, cuz they were the only players there that I'd never gamed with before, and because I'd never gamed with a kid before either (the player of Tuph is about 12 or 13), but they won me over in about 10 minutes. (Phut especially is hilarious - his player describes him as "The orc who was too stupid to know he's supposed to be evil.")




I like the way you describe him thinking and debating with himself to reveal their evil or not. You do a fantastic job of letting us know he's a paladin without ever coming out and saying it (except right at the end). You bring him right to the brink of being a Miko - and then ever so gently turn him write around. You also have made me very curious about the glowing and the fire and what the hang happened when they were prisoners.

Well, the prisoners thing doesn't really have a story behind it - Hakar and Tree were investigating some Big Bad Evil thing, and the Big Bad Evil found them first and captured them. Rescuing them was the plothook to get them introduced to the rest of the party. Given their respective backstories and their innate stoicism, I'm pretty sure they both consider it an embarrassing inconvenience more than anything else.

As for the rest of it... yeah, without giving character secrets away, Hakar has some anger issues. He tends to roll a lot of self-imposed will saves, and the GM is fully aware that he'll need to prepare an Atonement side-plot for the day he inevitably fails one...

I'm glad you liked it. :smallsmile:




I second this. I have no idea what WoD is, but I'm still interested :smallsmile:

WoD=World of Darkness. Another tabletop/LARP game, dealing with fantasy/horror themes in a modern, urban setting. Vampires, werewolves, mages, fairies, and even weirder stuff, although the flavor varies depending on the edition. My favorite game (and favorite character) comes from here.




Growing Pains
or Mama, it's Time to Let Go

Lirrin came charging into the family room, waving a piece of paper above her head. She slapped it down on the table and announced

“I know what I want to do!”

As soon as she said that, I knew my baby girl had grown up and wasn’t going to take no for an answer. I felt my heart constrict as I picked up the paper she had laid on the table. I knew my daughter, and I knew that whatever she wanted to do would involve her standing in front of others and would likely get her killed.

She has a big heart, my girl.

I smiled at her, so young and so exuberant, and read the notice:

Citizens of ‘Area’

As you are aware, the Plague of Shadows has ended. For this, we thank the paladin Lord Lester, and the group known as The Celadians.

This plague has taken a toll on all of us. However, we are all dependent on the protection and commerce generated by the city of Dandanagan. To ensure the survival of this city, we need replacements for members of the city guard lost to the plague. Therefore, we request that all willing citizens report to the Central Barracks in Dandanagan by ‘xyz date’.

In serving your city, you serve us all.

It seemed a little grandiose to me, but it had clearly captured Lirrin’s imagination.

“You want to become a city guard?” I asked, a little baffled I’ll admit. I had pictured – well, more for my firstborn. She was so vibrant, so vital, so much in love with life. I had always imagined her leaving this village; but only so she could move on to bigger and better things. Leaving to join the city guard of Dandanagan? Not quite what I’d had in mind.

“Absolutely!” she beamed at me

“Why?” I asked the question a little more bluntly than perhaps I should have, as Lirrin gave me that hurt look that was so devastating when she was a child. “I’m not refusing you child, I’m just – curious. It’s not what I had expected from you.”

She looks at me, puzzled

“What do you mean Mama?” I sighed inwardly, taking care to hide it from her. How was I supposed to explain that I had always anticipated more from her without making it sound as though I was disappointed in her choice. There was nothing wrong with being a city guard after all.

“You have such a thirst for adventure” I said finally. “I had expected that you would eventually leave to seek adventure and a fortune.”

“But – being in the city guard will be an adventure!” Lirrin’s voice rose with excitement. “I’ve never been to a big city before, and there’ll be adventurers and temples and paladins and and maybe even-” her voice dropped to a whisper “the Celadians.”

Ahhh, hero worship. It’s been a while since I felt that tug. I carefully laid the piece of paper back on the table.

“Lirrin,” I started, very carefully keeping any concerns out of my voice. I could talk them over with Rikad later. “If this is what you want, then your father and I will support you as much as we can. All I can ask is that you take care of yourself – and, write us often?”

“Thank you Mama!”

She beamed at me, and in two steps had pulled me into a massive hug. Great gods that girl is strong! Perhaps she’ll do better than I think.


I absolutely love this. If this is your example of "not very good," then I REALLY want to see your "better" work! Of course, I may be biased... I love slice-of-life snippets, where you get to see adventurers interacting with their families. The stuff that rarely gets a chance to come out in a regular game. I think you captured the bittersweet feeling of being proud of your child, while still fearing that their choices would get them killed, quite well. And then the odd sense of let-down, that the chosen dangerous profession wasn't quite as extreme as expected... it was cute, and very believable. I wanted to hug them both. :smallbiggrin:

Lady Moreta
2010-10-08, 02:39 AM
(Phut especially is hilarious - his player describes him as "The orc who was too stupid to know he's supposed to be evil.")

Heehee, I can imagine it. I'd wondered, since their names are just anagrams of each other. There's just something about tiny halfling and giant half-orc that appeals to me. I keep picturing a half-orc with a halfling sitting perched on his shoulder.


As for the rest of it... yeah, without giving character secrets away, Hakar has some anger issues. He tends to roll a lot of self-imposed will saves, and the GM is fully aware that he'll need to prepare an Atonement side-plot for the day he inevitably fails one...

Ahhh... yes I'd noticed there was a problem with anger. I thought you portrayed it very well. He sounds fascinating. I look forward to more writing featuring Hakar :smallsmile:


I absolutely love this. If this is your example of "not very good," then I REALLY want to see your "better" work! Of course, I may be biased... I love slice-of-life snippets, where you get to see adventurers interacting with their families. The stuff that rarely gets a chance to come out in a regular game. I think you captured the bittersweet feeling of being proud of your child, while still fearing that their choices would get them killed, quite well. And then the odd sense of let-down, that the chosen dangerous profession wasn't quite as extreme as expected... it was cute, and very believable. I wanted to hug them both. :smallbiggrin:

Awwww :smallredface: thank you :smallsmile: As I believe I've said elsewhere, I've had a really long week and am quite tired (and still at work. Boo :smallfrown:). I'm still not really happy with the ending, and I may yet change it. I struggled a bit with this one, but I promised milord Gareth that I'd do more of Lirrin's backstory. It was supposed to have been from her perspective, but it just wouldn't work. So I went with Mama. I have learned not to argue with the Bunny Rabbit Muse.

And oh... why not? While I'm here, have the back story of Lyra, the character I'm working on for a PbP game.

DISCLAIMER: If anyone from that recruitment thread should happen along, please don't read it. This backstory is different from the one I posted in the thread, and I don't want it spoiled.


Lyra
Lyra is the daughter of a mother – and presumably a father, though she’s never known him. Lyra’s mother – Merith worked as a bartender in one of the more upmarket inns of City. As she tells the story, a roving bard came in one night, singing of love and the joy of making love. He seemed to be singing only to Merith. One thing then led to another, and Lyra was the result. Her mother was never bothered that the bard never returned, though was generally reluctant to talk about it.

Only one thing marred the happiness of mother and daughter – Merith had a mental illness. She was prone to migraines and nausea. Even worse, she displayed wild and uncontrolled bursts of raw mental power. Lyra learned to recognise the warning signs at a young age, and grew adept at getting her mother out of harm’s way. She seemed unable to control these outbursts, and began insisting that she could hear voices. Visits to temples and churches, long consultations with clerics, the odd paladin, and even a wizard or two yielded nothing. Eventually, as word spread, and the clientele of the inn shrank, Merith was committed to an institute where she could be kept in safety.

Lyra got into breaking and entering for fun, profit and excitement. Money is just a way of keeping score – although she’ll rarely say no to a shiny coin or sparkly gem. For her, it is about the challenge of getting in and out unseen, unheard, and unnoticed. Sometimes she won’t even steal anything. Sometimes she leaves a note instead (never very polite). Sometimes she takes an item, only to return it the following night. A few citizens of City have taken Lyra’s presence as a challenge, and created defences designed to keep her out. She has a measure of respect for these precious few, and sees it as a game they are playing. She will never steal from these citizens, but leaves notes instead – occasionally with advice on how to go about bolstering their defences next time.

Lyra has always had very good instincts and a sort of sixth sense. She is popular with other thieves in the city as a lookout, for her seemingly magical ability to sense discovery. This is a problem for her. For years she has hidden the headaches, nausea and uncontrolled bursts of mental powers she apparently inherited from her mother. After one of these bursts resulted in destroying the mind of a friend, Lyra has redoubled her efforts both to control the affects, and hide them. She is too afraid to seek help from a cleric or wizard, for fear she will be locked away like her mother.

Fortunately, she is extremely strong-willed, and has had some measure of success at controlling her unusual abilities. She has taught herself to control each ability as it manifests through the simple expedient of making herself scarce. However she is still terrified of what she can do, and will unleash even the controlled abilities only reluctantly. She prefers to rely on the roguish skills thieving and sneaking have granted her. She has learned to recognise the signs in herself of a new ability making itself manifest – nonetheless until she learns to control it, it is unpredictable and prone to shooting off without warning. Sometimes to the detriment of others, but more often to the detriment of Lyra herself.

In fact, Lyra is so paranoid about someone finding out that she tries to pass off her abilities as spell casting. She carries a spell component pouch, rather obviously on her belt. Unfortunately for Lyra, she doesn’t possess a particularly good understanding of how magic works, so her attempts at deception are not always perfect. She can often been seen practicing hand movements, muttering ‘magic-sounding’ words under her breath, and pouring over components with a puzzled look on her face.

The few people she trusts completely know the truth about her, and they too have learned to recognise the warning signs. Those two friends have learned the quickest and best ways to get her out of harm’s way (and everyone else out of her way). Unfortunately for Lyra, sometimes the quickest and best way is a sharp rap over the head with a stout stick. Anyone around her for long enough, and is familiar with spells, will probably start to realise that what she does doesn’t jell with actual spell casting.

Lyra chose to leave City after the locals decided they didn’t appreciate her sense of humour, or her choice in games. One of her ‘regulars’ whom she was really very fond of, and suspected that he in turn knew who she really was, had left a note on the table when she broke in. It suggested that the local police were setting up an operation to catch her, by order of the council. It also suggested she might want to think about vacating the premises before this happened. Lyra had also noticed that two of the clerics who had tried to treat her mother seemed to be taking an almost obsessive interest in her. Prudence, at this point, suggested she leave town immediately. She promptly left the area and has since made her living working for the highest bidder.


(Also, ignore the fact that her hometown is described as 'City'. I don't know enough about the setting yet to give it a name.)

Pisha
2010-10-08, 03:46 AM
Sometimes she won’t even steal anything. Sometimes she leaves a note instead (never very polite). Sometimes she takes an item, only to return it


The city of Orlando would like to remind its citizens that breaking and entering is still a crime, even if you pay for the things you take.

Lady Moreta
2010-10-08, 05:26 AM
The city of Orlando would like to remind its citizens that breaking and entering is still a crime, even if you pay for the things you take.

Shush :smalltongue: she knows that, she just doesn't care.

Pisha
2010-10-08, 07:41 AM
Yeah, but it was a perfect set-up to quote my favorite IC news report from our local LARP. How could I resist? :smallbiggrin:

Werekat
2010-10-08, 09:49 AM
First: was it just me at 2 A.M., or did Worlok have a story up that went missing?

Pisha: nice! And here's one instance where slow, slow description works extremely well, and helps describe the character - a slow, but careful thinker, and someone who has to pay attention to himself a lot of the time, or his nature gets the best of him.

I also like very much how you handled the bloodlust stirring. Boredom is a very correct and common emotion when dealing with long-term issues, but not many people recognize it in writing.

And I second Lady Moreta on the first paragraph thing. Well done.

Lady Moreta: Thank you. :) I'll be writing about Bashira soon again, since we had a game recently. And our DM's good - he actually got through her nonchalantness for once. And taught us all a lesson on the fact that "kick in the door" doesn't always work out well in city adventure... Having to go clean up wraiths that got created as the result of a joke that was meant to be harmless was a real kick in the face. :)

As for thinking on your feet - I'm not a genius at this either, really. My players usually get the drop on me when I'm DM-ing, and when playing I often miss moments of golden opportunity. I guess that's one of the reasons I like writing, too. :) The upside is - the more you write, the more reactions you actually have to think of, the more your own repertoire widens!

I'll re-read the succubus thing, because I actually thought that in that case it was a feature, not a bug. She was confused, nearly charmed, restless, and all. But I'll re-read tonight.

As for the cheeky grin - yeah, you're absolutely right. :) I kind of forgot about that one, sorry.

Now, as for "Growing pains" - great! Seriously, I like it, and I like it a lot. Some exposition pieces do work out better from an outsider's head, and this one is it. You get the motherly tone across well, without her being smothering.

As for my own - well, let there be a WoD piece. then. The characters are both Kiasyd, Sire and Childe (vampire and vampire progeny), and, as such, have a slight problem with fitting into human society because of their unusual looks (they all look pretty much like that: http://th01.deviantart.com/fs9/300W/i/2006/025/f/7/WIP__Kiasyd_by_wycked.jpg). So they deal.


Of Basic Necessities in the 21st Century
or
The reason to get a "Face-painting" skill on you character sheet
The face looking out from the mirror at me - unblinking gaze, frown - can't be mistaken for human. Even if the gauntness is explained away by diet - though that would have to be a killer way to lose weight, - you don't get that luminescent white with any kind of cosmetics, and there are no black contact lenses that conceal the whites of the eye. And there are no age marks - not even one line.

I sigh miserably. There *has* to be another way of doing this. Like staying out of the spotlight, maybe. Or not interacting with humans outside of dark alleys and the Internet. Until I learn to conceal my nature.

"Come now." Roderick speaks up softly from his armchair in the corner. "Concealing one's true nature is not that hard. Remember: people like to be fooled, and sometimes it is for the best that they see not a lie, but an illusion."

"Easy for you to say!" I turn to my Sire only to find that ironic smile on his face. "You've a different method!"

"You know," He says thoughtfully, "I think I've figured out the reason you are in such a stupor relative to Obfuscate."

"Oh?" I am hopeful. Even though Obfuscate does not run naturally through our veins, it is a Discipline most Kiasyd know well, at least to its third manifestation. And it is one of the first Displines my Sire attempted to teach me. However, there was something distinctly wrong with me and this Discipline. Even though I could feel the power rushing through my veins when Roderick showed me, no matter how much I tried, I could not summon it myself. All of my occult training in life - which helped me so much with the other Disciplines - seemed to disappear when I dealt with this peculiar art.

"You are supposed to learn that which any civilized person knows. Your polite nature protests against your conscious choices." He suggests coolly.

"This is the twenty-first century, not the sixteenth." I retort. "Civilization is no longer measured by the ability to paint faces!"

"No, but like in the old days, your ability to survive is."

Of course, Roderick is absolutely right, and I am merely stalling. I look down at the bottles and little boxes that crowd with hostility before the mirror. Then I reach and pick up the smallest brush out of the five that are laid out before me. Then I turn back to the older Kiasyd again. "How much time do we have?"

"Two hours."

I shake my head. "I'm not sure I'll be able to produce anything convincing in two hours."

"Still, you are not one to pass up the opportunity to learn, are you?"

"Of course not, Sire." I answer with the utmost seriousness. "However, I am afraid that you shall learn more than I."

"Oh?"

"Of the boundaries of human and inhuman ineptitude and their true reach."

He waves a hand dismissively. "I have known since I was mortal that there are no such boundaries. Go on."

My fate dependent on my cosmetics. I never thought I'd sink this low.

An hour and a half later, Roderick - who had been reading some sort of fiction - looks up and says, "Looks like you really did not pick up any skill in this while you were alive, Morgana. You were a historian of art. How did you manage?"

"By the power of my wit alone." I grumble, erasing the tonal cream from my skin for the tenth time. My face looks like it was used as a palette. In essence, it was, but that's not the result I was aiming for. "I was a scholar, not an artist."

My Sire sighs and puts his book away. "This one time, I shall rescue you. But for the sake of our security, you shall spend each night at this under my guidance, until you learn."

"The horror." I say tiredly. "It may have gone easier if you had given me a few pointers before setting me to this vile task."

"Possibly, but it wouldn't have been half so interesting." He replies, as he sits down next to me. "Now, please relax. We don't have much time and I haven't practiced in about a hundred years."

big teej
2010-10-08, 10:25 AM
first.....

I am constantly amazed by the lyrical prowess of all of yall /gush....


second....
-caves-
I will write up the death of valek...

as soon as I get home from college, (sometime later today)

until then, keep up the awesome stories everybody! :smallsmile:

Machuchang
2010-10-08, 05:20 PM
Typo?

Ooooh yeah... That's bad one.:smalleek:
At least it rhymes with the correct word...


I will admit, this bit - namely the 'keen' doesn't really make sense to me. Perhaps because the first thing it makes me think of is the idea of making a weapon keen to deal extra damage. But I'm not sure what you're trying to signify with it. The sound the blades made moving through the air? The fact that all Varen could think about was that the blades were keen and going to kill him? The writing is good, but I am not sure this was quite the right descriptive word to use here.

I would definitely have to agree with this one. It was supposed to be a sound effect, but I can definitely see what you mean. Even while writing it, it seemed kind of off, and you seem to have pinpointed it right there.

Now to just find a suitable replacement...

As for your story, I really enjoyed it! I loved how it was told from the mother's perspective, and I thought it gave a really interesting look into Lirrin's personality and background. I can't see how you could think that it wasn't great!


Pluses: does shed the light on your backstory, articulate, very appropriately horrific. A nice contrast between the serenity of the initial scene and the horror of what happened next. Serenity's hard, but you have it down in a few strokes, and that's good.

To me, that opening scene felt incredibly difficult to write, but it's great to hear that it went over well!:smallbiggrin:


I hope you don't mind the extensive criticism - if you do (if anyone does, really), I'll keep quiet about stuff like that from now on. It's still an interesting read - I, too, have a soft spot (read: love-hate relationship) with paladins, and I really want to see where Varen goes from there, but right now it's a mish-mash of styles. And it's hard to keep quiet about it because I've already seen you do better.

Your criticism is excellent, so the more extensive the better!:smallbiggrin: I really appreciate every piece of advice you've given me, and will try to incorporate it as best I can.

You really nailed the biggest problem I have with my writing with "mish-mash of styles" thing there, and I agree that in this work of mine it's especially prominent. I’ll definitely work on rewriting this one.

As for your story, I loved it, as usual.:smallbiggrin: You really got me interested in your character, especially her personal history. I've never played WoD, and honestly don't know anything about it, but just reading your story really got me interested in it.


Pisha: That was simply amazing. Honestly, that’s probably one of my favorite snippets I’ve read so far. Keep up the good work!:smallbiggrin:

Realms of Chaos
2010-10-08, 08:54 PM
Wow. These things are simply amazing. :smalleek:

I haven't written much of anything in a couple years but this thread inspired me to try again. Here's a short one. Sorry if it's not exciting enough.






By The Dying Fire

It had only been a couple of hours but each minute seemed to drone on and on. As I watched over the others, I rubbed my hands along my arms to keep either one from going numb in the cold. Even if the snow couldn’t get down there, the cold most certainly did. Just a couple more hours and I'd be able to rest in one of those warm bedrolls and stare at the inside of my eyelids for the rest of the night.

A bit sick of looking at everyone else in their warm beds, I softly sighed and looked back up at the dirk. It was still sitting there, jammed in the cave wall, just as we had found it. With any luck, one of those spells in Jasper’s thick tome would be able to remove it. If not, it wouldn't be a huge loss. I could always replace my rusted dagger back in town, especially with the money that the viceroy had promised. Still, it seemed like everyone else had claimed a bit of loot back in the ziggurat. Even Roma had been given that wand and she was…was… damn.

Right on cue, Roma jolted out of her uneasy sleep, giving a small shout before getting a hold of herself and looking around. Just as always, I put on my most diplomatic smile and put a single finger to my mouth as she looked in his direction. Instead of going back to bed like always, though, the human kept looking around the cave with a wierd expression on her face. She looked a bit spooked. Well, more spooked than usual.

When the human calmed down a bit, she slowly squirmed out of her bedroll and walked over, towering above me as I sat there. It's not that she's shorter than me when I stand but... you normally don't notice such things. In my old caravan, you only even met with large folk when the two of you have some sort of work that needed doing. Right then, down in that cave, there was nothing to keep my mind on, nothing that had to be done. For one of the first times ever, I really felt... small. Strange as it may sound, I felt a bit relieved when she finally sat down.

The two of us sat in silence for awhile, just staring into the last glowing embers of the fire. “Are you gonna take your shift early, then?” I asked at last, staring directly at a dying ember. No response. Peeking to one site, Roma was still staring directly into the fire... or at least towards it. I couldn't even tell if the huan had heard me. Roma... didn't seem to understand people sometimes. Broff had told us once that she had been wounded when he first found her a few years ago. In my humble opinion, not much had changed since then.

When I turned to face her and repeat the question, I could see that her cheeks were red. Did she have some sort of cold or... something glimmered softly on her cheek. She was... crying? I was kind of at a loss here. I had dealt with her night terrors. I had worked around her bad hearing. I had even managed to keep most of her delusions from getting in our way. Crying, however, was new. What on Urth did it mean when somebody like Roma started crying?

It was Roma who finally broke the silence, asking, “What are you doing up, Flouzer?” No response to my question, then. Well, at least she was speaking.

For a second or two, I considered telling her the truth; reminding her that I had always taken the first night shift. In the end, though, it just wasn't worth the effort. Instead, I pointed back at the dirk in the wall and joked, “I’m guarding the dagger.”

Roma looked at the dirk for a few moments, seeming to take my joke at face value. Then again, maybe she understood the joke but didn’t find it funny. Whatever the case, we fell back into silence for a few more minutes.

“Should I put some more wood on the fire?” she finally asked. Like most of Roma’s behavior, I found it troubling that she hadn’t noticed the lack of wood in the cave. Was she suggesting that we go out into the snow and search? It was a cold night to be sure but the others would hardly freeze to death in those warm bedrolls… probably. Wait. Was Roma trying to make a joke of her own? Her tone remained as flat and emotionless as ever and her expression was hard to read.

“The cold isn’t that bad,” I lied, giving her what I hope was a warm smile, “so I suggest we let the flame die an honorable death.”

The silence returned and I was left to wonder once more if I'd even been heard. In the depths of this silence, I began to wonder why I was even standing guard. Nobody knew where we were. Nobody had any reason to follow us. Broff had searched the cave for tracks and found nothing at all. There weren’t any savages living out there and certainly weren’t any caravans. Jasper had even hidden the cave’s mouth behind an illusion. There was only one real reason that anyone might have been looking for this cave. I turned to face the dirk and could almost here Jasper’s nasally voice. “Don’t touch that, Flouz.” “It seems to be magical, Flouz.” “I’ll remove it in the morning, Flouz.” Even after a month of tutoring, Jasper still wouldn’t let me try the simplest of tricks. It was tempting to just steal the old goat’s spellbook and try casting the spell myself. Then again, there was not telling as to how Roma would react.

I was distracted from my thoughts as a soft, warbling moan found it’s way out of Roma’s throat. As she rose one sleeved arm to wipe away her tears, I gave her another small smile and a couple light pats on the back. It was all that I could think to do. Maybe Broff would know what to do if he had been awake but I wasn't much of a people person.

Roma managed to calm down a bit and asked yet another question, her voice a bit choked this time, “My… my wand makes light… so… can I use that?”

After slowly absorbing what she had just said, I slowly nodded towards her and replied, “That… sounds nice.”

Roma drew a small wooden stick from out of her robe and muttered a single word under her breath. With that, the entire stick glowed as brightly as the fire once had. To my credit, I did not chose to question this. I didn’t question when or how she’d learned how to use the wand. I didn’t question why she had slept with it inside of her robe. I didn’t even bother questioning why she hadn’t handed over her wand to begin with. Roma was just… Roma. After a certain point, you learned to adjust and stop asking questions. At the moment, I was just glad for the bit of light and heat. Though only half as warm as the fire had once been, I was still far warmer than I had been when Roma had first awoken.

“I had a new dream tonight,” said Roma. A new nightmare, she probably meant. Well, she wasn’t the only one. I had my own share of nighttime horrors to haunt my. Unlike Roma, I could rarely even fall asleep anymore; maybe once or twice a week. Still, if this was about what I suspected it might be, Roma probably needed someone to talk to her. For her, choosing the one friend unable to banish his own demons must’ve seemed perfectly natural.

“Was it about Broff?”

Another small moan escaped Roma’s throat as she nodded, turning to truly face me for the first time that night. I turned to her in turn, looking her directly in the eye. I had to make this clear to her. “Stop beating yourself up over that, Roma. None of us knew about that pit and things would’ve been far worse if you’d jumped after him like you wanted to. You saved Jasper’s life and my own more times that day than I can count and we made in time for you to save Broff’s life as well. Hells, you fed the man healing potions until he heaved. Besides, we both heard what Jasper said. A good healer could regrow his arm and leg without breaking a sweat. You didn’t do anything wrong, Roma. You didn’t do anything wrong” As I looked into her eyes, I could swear that I could see comprehension in her gaze. Suddenly, tears started welling anew in her eyes as Roma grabbed me off the ground and held him in a tight embrace, finally crying in earnest on my shoulder.

“Can… I… guard that dagger… with you... tonight?” muttered Roma between sobs.

“That… sounds nice.”

Story behind the story:It was an old group I was in, playing via AIM. At one point, we were spending the night in an old burrow and the DM thought it was an excellent time to get some player RP in. Most people kept going until late and then the group went to bed (both IC and OOC) but me and Roma's player were still up so we kept going.
The original transcript had quite a bit more talking and I took a bit of artistic license but I kept the skeleton of what ended up happening.

Oh, and the dirk was a +1 Wounding Punching Dagger. Flouzer left that cave a very happy halfling. :smalltongue:

So... um, there you go. :smallredface:

Lady Moreta
2010-10-08, 11:08 PM
I'll re-read the succubus thing, because I actually thought that in that case it was a feature, not a bug. She was confused, nearly charmed, restless, and all. But I'll re-read tonight.

I'll happily claim it was meant to be that way, but it actually wasn't deliberate.


Now, as for "Growing pains" - great! Seriously, I like it, and I like it a lot. Some exposition pieces do work out better from an outsider's head, and this one is it. You get the motherly tone across well, without her being smothering.

I shall bow to those who liked it then, thanks :smallsmile: I'll reread it myself and will probably find that I don't mind it so much. I wrote it while very tired, and I'm always harsher on myself when I'm tired.




Of Basic Necessities in the 21st Century
or
The reason to get a "Face-painting" skill on you character sheet


I enjoyed this. I like vampire stories :smallsmile: It was another one of these homely pieces we all seem so fond of at the moment. I like Roderick's attitude, you can tell he cares about her and about making sure she hides her features. He reminds me a little bit of Belgarath in the David Eddings' books. He's described as being first and foremost a teacher, but he's not above letting people make their own mistakes in the process. Roderick seems like a real teacher, in that he steps in at the end to help, but he's first going to let her struggle through on her own to try and get her to learn.

Have to admit, I had no idea makeup could be such a problem!


second....
-caves-
I will write up the death of valek...

Wooo! Yay, can't wait!



I haven't written much of anything in a couple years but this thread inspired me to try again. Here's a short one. Sorry if it's not exciting enough.

Yes, because Growing Pains was so very exciting :smalltongue: Seriously, it's entirely up to you what you want to write - exciting or otherwise.

(Also, I noticed when I quoted your post, you've indented the heading instead of just centering it. You can just click on the 'centre' icon and it'll centre it for you.)

Okay, first impressions of your snippet - I like the idea of the story. The way that Flouzer is a little exasperated with Roma, but at the same time, I get the feeling that he's probably more patient with her and understands her better than the others because of his own past.



Even a couple of hours staring at the insides of his eyelids was more than worth resting in one of those warm bedrolls.

I do have to say though, this sentence doesn't make much sense. You've already given us to understand that it was cold, so why on earth would simply closing his eyes be worth more than snuggling up in a bedroll? It's entirely possible that Flouzer has his own reasons for that (and I imagine that he does), but in a case like this, I think an extra sentence saying why would have helped.



Even Roma was given that wand and she was…was… damn.

Also, grammatically speaking, this would read better if it was "Even Roma had been given that wand. Both are past tense, but 'was' doesn't really fit.

For sheer ease of reading, may I suggest that each time a person speaks, you start a new paragraph? I believe it's technically a grammatical rule, but Werekat might know better. Changing the colours helped, but it would be much easier to read if you simply started a new paragraph.

One last thing (promise!) - you keep switching point of view - one paragraph is told from Flouzer's view, then the very next one is Roma. I gotta admit, it makes the reading of it a bit jarring. You'd be better off sticking with one point of view - imagine that the 3rd person narrator is hovering over one of the characters and write only what they see and think. If you want to get into someone else's head, write another snippet from their persepective. This is the exact same thing I did at the start of my novelisation of our game - I keep switching between Tanc and Silver - it gets a bit wearing on the reader.

Perhaps try writing in first person - I find it harder to do, but it's a great way of ensuring you stick to just one person's viewpoint. You can go back over it and make sure that there's nothing in there that the character couldn't see or wouldn't know. Makes it much easier :smallsmile:

I did enjoy it though. I liked the way Flouzer was keeping watch even though he didn't need to and how he rationalised it.

Realms of Chaos
2010-10-09, 12:12 AM
Yes, because Growing Pains was so very exciting :smalltongue: Seriously, it's entirely up to you what you want to write - exciting or otherwise.

Yay! I can write stuffs.


(Also, I noticed when I quoted your post, you've indented the heading instead of just centering it. You can just click on the 'centre' icon and it'll centre it for you.)

I... honestly didn't see the button. :smallredface:
I looked for it briefly, somehow missed it, and went with indentation instead.


Okay, first impressions of your snippet - I like the idea of the story. The way that Flouzer is a little exasperated with Roma, but at the same time, I get the feeling that he's probably more patient with her and understands her better than the others because of his own past.

Pretty much. Glad I got that across.



I do have to say though, this sentence doesn't make much sense. You've already given us to understand that it was cold, so why on earth would simply closing his eyes be worth more than snuggling up in a bedroll? It's entirely possible that Flouzer has his own reasons for that (and I imagine that he does), but in a case like this, I think an extra sentence saying why would have helped.

Oh, that. :smallsigh:
Looking over the sentence, I realize now that I wrote it totally backwards. He wants the warm bedroll (because it is cold) and it willing to pay for it with a couple hours of just staring inside his eyelids (because of his insomniac... and because "sleeping" is his only real excuse to stop his shift). I redid the sentence and tried to clarify it up a bit.

Better?:smallconfused:


Also, grammatically speaking, this would read better if it was "Even Roma had been given that wand. Both are past tense, but 'was' doesn't really fit.

Fixed. :smallbiggrin:


For sheer ease of reading, may I suggest that each time a person speaks, you start a new paragraph? I believe it's technically a grammatical rule, but Werekat might know better. Changing the colours helped, but it would be much easier to read if you simply started a new paragraph.

I did not know about this grammar rule before (and there are probably many other rules that I don't know). Changed.


One last thing (promise!) - you keep switching point of view - one paragraph is told from Flouzer's view, then the very next one is Roma. I gotta admit, it makes the reading of it a bit jarring. You'd be better off sticking with one point of view - imagine that the 3rd person narrator is hovering over one of the characters and write only what they see and think. If you want to get into someone else's head, write another snippet from their persepective. This is the exact same thing I did at the start of my novelisation of our game - I keep switching between Tanc and Silver - it gets a bit wearing on the reader.

Perhaps try writing in first person - I find it harder to do, but it's a great way of ensuring you stick to just one person's viewpoint. You can go back over it and make sure that there's nothing in there that the character couldn't see or wouldn't know. Makes it much easier :smallsmile:

First person difficult? Heh.
90% of the stuff that I've ever written has been either 1st person or 3rd person but locked into one person's mind. :smallbiggrin:
I somehow got the idea in my head that I've been limiting myself in some way so when I was revising this, I tried getting both sides of the story. I could see how it would be wearing, though, and am glad that I was doing things properly to start with as I found THIS to be extremely difficult.


I did enjoy it though. I liked the way Flouzer was keeping watch even though he didn't need to and how he rationalised it.

I'm glad that you managed to enjoy this story in spite of its glaring flaws. :smalltongue:

Thank you very much for that quick analysis. I've always wanted to be a better writer so something like this thread is something of a godsend for me. I am in your debt, good woman. :smallsmile:

Edit: Now for a rewrite into the 1st person. In progress. Finished? Probably worse than the original, though. GAH!

Werekat
2010-10-09, 10:12 AM
You really nailed the biggest problem I have with my writing with "mish-mash of styles" thing there, and I agree that in this work of mine it's especially prominent. I’ll definitely work on rewriting this one.

As for your story, I loved it, as usual.:smallbiggrin: You really got me interested in your character, especially her personal history. I've never played WoD, and honestly don't know anything about it, but just reading your story really got me interested in it.

Hey, glad to be of service. :)

As for Morgana... That was one of those campaigns you go "Oooh" about when remembering gaming stories for the rest of your days. I started with her when I was 15, and she's stayed with me through a number of stories and storytellers since then. Her story's pretty much impossible for the canonical world - we started play with only one rulebook, only slowly accruing bits and pieces of info from the Internet, and thus had all sorts of crazy stuff no sane DM who had any knowledge and/or respect for the world would ever allow, but is fun nonetheless. So, WoD ST's and players, take warning - some crazy stuff under the cut.


Long story short, there once was a sickly girl with not much of a social life, but with one hell of a sharp tongue, and an academic record to boot (a historian of art, specializing in baroque art, and an antiques expert). And with an ancestor who had been a druid sometime in the 10th century, one of those who refused to give up when the whole druid corporation dissolved after losing one too many fights to Christian mages. Said ancestor made a deal with the fae: they let him stay in their "hills," gaining effective immortality (he cannot leave them, however - crumble to dust and all, since so much time has passed) and watch his relatives from afar, to teach any magically-apt children the family may have, and he protects the fae with his magic.

So said girl grows up, learns that she has an aptitude for visions and for talking to spirits, is on her way to earning a PhD at 23, when one fine night she wakes up dead. Undeath cut most of her sarcasm and arrogance pretty quickly, and had her face some of her own morals (she subscribed to 10th century ones... In theory. It took her awhile to accept the practice). It also pushed her towards a goddess she avoided while alive - basically, she had Lugh as a patron before dying, but becoming undead led her to the Morrigan, goddess of prophecy and war. So she learned to hold her own in a firefight (first character I ever statted up with no combat proficiency whatsoever initially), learned to go up to more powerful vampires and tell them the truth to their faces (and somehow didn't die for it), and generally lived by "I do now what must be done now."

Then there was crazy stuff like the party being buffed up and used as cannon fodder to hold off an essential demigod (for all of ten minutes) while vampire mages sealed it off. Then there was more personal crazy stuff like being brought back to human life through some powerful magic, refusing to run from interacting with the vampires (because if you don't deal with the darker sides of life, then who will?) living as a human advisor on magic (and self-appointed half-broken moral compass) to the local vampire rulers for three years, and finally being Embraced (made into a vampire) again while enemy necromancers were trying to rip her soul from her body - the only measure her new Sire could take at that point, really.

And then the campaign ended, because the ST was no longer up to running it for a number of reasons. :( I kept her around in other games, though, sometimes with a modified backstory, and sometimes not: way too much fun.

Realms of Chaos: fun! It's an interesting look into someone perceiving an obviously peculiar character. Roma comes across as creepy, and convincingly mentally ill (through whatever reason - too many enchantments that can wreak horror with your mind in D&D), but your halfling wouldn't admit that, he's too brave. :)

But a lot of stuff that needs correcting. The two most glaring errors:


It had only been a couple of hours but each minute seemed to drone on for hours.

I'm thinking the double "hours" is a leftover from editing. This happens. :)


Right on queue

"Queue" is a line, as in one you stand in. "Cue" is what you're looking for here.


I enjoyed this. I like vampire stories :smallsmile: It was another one of these homely pieces we all seem so fond of at the moment. I like Roderick's attitude, you can tell he cares about her and about making sure she hides her features. He reminds me a little bit of Belgarath in the David Eddings' books. He's described as being first and foremost a teacher, but he's not above letting people make their own mistakes in the process. Roderick seems like a real teacher, in that he steps in at the end to help, but he's first going to let her struggle through on her own to try and get her to learn.

Thanks. :) More spoilers for craziness:

Roderick's an NPC from that game whom I've adopted. I write quite a lot about him, albeit in Russian. The man's polite, smart, caring, and as crazy as only someone with a second Fae personality can be (yeah, more of the crazy stuff no DM would allow). Because the Fae in WoD essentially live in the imagination and live according to story rules, he also believes in narrative causality, and one of his ideas for survival is having "plot armor" (if he only phrases it like that in the latter half of the twentieth century). It generally works, much to the surprise of other vampires.

I've never played him - I can't react like that. He's one of the most difficult characters for me to write, ever - he keeps doing stuff that throws me, as a writer, for a total loop, and that I have to take days on to figure out how to resolve. And he's got a crazy sensory perception that's near impossible to write, because he essentially perceives in purple prose, (supposedly) stopping short of it being horrible, or, conversely, going into the "So bad it's good" territory.


I believe it's technically a grammatical rule, but Werekat might know better.

Errr. I think so, yes. You can have a short bit of description before or after the spoken line, and a bit inside a dialogue ("I agree," he said, "we should attack at dawn.") But if there's more than a short sentence - new paragraph.

Realms of Chaos
2010-10-09, 10:46 AM
Fixed and Fixed.
I always confuse my cues/queues for some reason. Odd.

Edit: Good lord. I just remembered an excellent story from the same campaign. Coming Soon:


Broff and the "Stupod"
or
At least it wasn't a gazebo!

Worlok
2010-10-10, 04:38 PM
It is in shame that I type this here words, for expectations may with this be disappointed: I have been going through my remaining notes on the campaign I detailed before. And while I do remember some overall things and minor concepts, such as the one alluded to in my recent post in ''What scares you in a tabletop'', none of the surviving material makes for any good stories whatsoever (Thrice-accursed water leaks!). In a way, you could say that I lack the crunch of my fluff. As some of you may have noticed, I had at one time put up a snippet already, which was about the most that could be done, but I removed it again seeing how it was a rather random and confusing scene which I can not properly explain anymore. So I beg you to forgive me and keep up the good work. I'm sorry.

Werekat
2010-10-10, 05:03 PM
Worlok: ...Now I had to go into that thread and see. That sounds all kinds of awesome! I wish you would try to write about it - these things often pop up when you're thinking about them - but I know better than trying to make someone write. It's next to impossible when you don't want to or feel unprepared for writing something. So I'll just be looking out for your further posts. :)

Anyway, hey, these things happen, so don't worry about the apologies. This isn't work, and none of us are your bosses (I hope).

I just wish I weren't too sleepy to read back when you put your snippet up. It looked fun at first glance.

Lady Moreta
2010-10-10, 10:20 PM
Thank you very much for that quick analysis. I've always wanted to be a better writer so something like this thread is something of a godsend for me. I am in your debt, good woman. :smallsmile:

Edit: Now for a rewrite into the 1st person. In progress. Finished? Probably worse than the original, though. GAH!

You're very welcome :smallsmile:

I actually enjoyed the first person more. It was nice to get entirely into Flouzer's head. I noticed a couple of typos, but they were all things you forgot to change when you converted it to first person, so no biggy :smallsmile:

One thing I will mention is to be careful of your tenses. This is something I have a hard time with as well, but I noticed in a couple of places you've used the wrong tense.

On a lighter note, I actually wrote something yesterday! Can't post it though, because I actually hand wrote it (because husband was using my laptop to play Mount & Blade). I will type it up tonight and post it then :smallsmile: I have a new character I'm quite excited about, so I have a whole pile of backstory ideas in my head.

Edit: Can I make a snippet request? Pisha, I just read your post in the 'nasty things to do to your players' thread. Can you please, pretty please turn that into a snippet? It's so awesome it just cries out to be written :smallbiggrin:

more edits: have another snippet :smallsmile: first in a planned series.


The Bartender
or Quite Delightful and Enchanting
“Who is that child?” the speaker was a man from the local temple to ? He hadn’t said much beyond requesting new drinks and his voice startled me. I turned to follow his pointing finger and shrugged

“That’s just Lyra” I said, “she’s the daughter of one of my serving girls.” I pointed myself, drawing the man’s attention to where Merith was clearing the detritus of two solid hours of drinking.

“She is quite enchanting” he said, smiling in the manner of a man who has children of his own. One of my eyebrows shot up, seemingly of its own accord. I had never considered Lyra to be an ‘enchanting’ child. Still, the more I engaged this man, the more he was likely to spend. I could accept that familiarity might breed contempt.

I set down the glass I was cleaning and gave my attention to Lyra. Her black hair trailed down past her waist. She is small, but so is her mother. Big blue eyes, but tiny and pale. She is cute I will admit. In the way that all small children are cute. I very much doubt that she will grow up to be anybody’s idea of a beauty though. She was currently running through my tavern, using a piece of bright blue ribbon as a streamer. Alton held out a hand to her and she stopped immediately. they’re an odd looking pair, the five year old human child and the halfling man – barely an inch of difference between them. Lyra grinned and put the ribbon in his hand. Alton immediately stood on his chair and began waving the ribbon around and over his head. Lyra burst out with laughter, dancing around and trying to grab the ribbon.

Now that I think about it, they do this every time Alton appears in the tavern. How odd – Alten is a solemn, surely creature – the only time I ever see him smile is when Lyra is around. I watch her more closely as she reclaims her ribbon and dances off. Is that the halfling language she’s speaking? Now that is a surprise.

“She has her moments” I admit grudgingly. I’m not sure why it bothers me, and the cleric? Paladin? Priest? - I can never tell the difference. Anyway, he seems to recognise that I have no real reason for dissatisfaction.

“Quite delightful” he says, setting his mug back on the counter. “She brightens the room.”

The used mug finds its way into my hand while I find myself musing on the cleric’s (?) words. Merith catches my eye and makes a couple of incomprehensible hand gestures I have finally worked out mean she is going ot take Lyra upstairs. A nod to Tanner to take over the bar and I take the latest dishes out the back to the kitchen. I’m gone for barely a minute and yet as soon as I get back, I can sense the change in mood. Alten is growling into his mug and his companions are looking both nervous and exasperated. Tanner is leaning on the bar, drumming his fingertips on the polished wood. Men and women are finishing mouthfuls of food and drink and taking their leave.

Enchanting. Quite delightful. Maybe. Maybe not. But as Merith returns to the tavern floor I begin to think I should start convincing her to extend Lyra’s bed time.

Worlok
2010-10-11, 07:27 AM
That sounds all kinds of awesome! I wish you would try to write about it
It was. :smallbiggrin: Perhaps my memory will resume service, given time, but until then I'll have to file it under a mix of lack on material, lack on willingness to type all-too-blatant untruths, and writer's block.

And the 'work' thing is true, so no harm done, I guess. Thank you, is what I'm trying to say. :smallsmile:

Lady Moreta
2010-10-11, 09:00 PM
It was. :smallbiggrin: Perhaps my memory will resume service, given time, but until then I'll have to file it under a mix of lack on material, lack on willingness to type all-too-blatant untruths, and writer's block.

And the 'work' thing is true, so no harm done, I guess. Thank you, is what I'm trying to say. :smallsmile:

Well, if you discover a cure for writer's block - be sure to milk it, it'd be worth a fortune :smalltongue: Seriously, if you do get past that, and work quiets down, I'm interested as well :smallsmile:

Worlok
2010-10-12, 08:26 AM
Seriously, if you do get past that, and work quiets down, I'm interested as well :smallsmile:
Oddly, my homebrewing and general making-up of stuff is not at all affected, I just fail to put those few pieces of memory into snippet-appropiate form. :smallfrown: (The 'work' thing wasn't work being too much, but this thread not technically being my job, though. I may have worded that improperly.)

Anyway, thanks for posting interest, everyone. Perhaps I'll actually have some sort of epiphany, so it's basically waiting time. Good thing I'm not the only one posting here. :smallbiggrin:

Worlok
2010-10-15, 09:10 AM
Sorry for sort-of-doubleposting, but good news, everyone: Cleaning out the storage, the DM found some of his old notes and already sent me some of them, as my entry in the 'ridiculous improvised weapons' thread may indicate. Not much for an actual narrative yet, but I'm positive many a snippet lies ahead. Or, you know, at least about six or seven, starting some time on Tuesday, when he can mail again, most likely. :smallbiggrin:

(Also, what's with noone 'snippeting' here anymore?)

big teej
2010-10-15, 10:22 AM
I will be writing the death of Valek today, real life caught up with me over fall break and I haven't been able to devote time to it till today.
your patience is appreciated.

Worlok
2010-10-15, 10:44 AM
It's alright. I trust it will be worth the wait, anyway. :smallsmile:

Also, reading your signature, I guess this might interest you:



Holy crap. This guy's a loser. DO hit him with DMG I & II repeatedly
I dunno, you just gave me the image of a nerd flying slow motion over a coffee table towards another nerd, dual wielding massive books. It was awesome.

big teej
2010-10-15, 06:04 PM
It's alright. I trust it will be worth the wait, anyway. :smallsmile:

Also, reading your signature, I guess this might interest you:

oh dear.... expectations... :smallredface:

also, I thought I'd added that to my signature...... oopsies.:smallsigh:

anyways
-drumroll-

after much procrastination and agonizing and writers block, I give you all, The Death of Valek

The Death of Valek.




I watch the orc step forward and swing his axe down at me, as I see this, a small, utterly detached part of my mind looks back and examines the steps that brought me to this.
Time slows down….

STOPS!

Word has spread quickly through town that a band of orcs has ambushed and captured a trade caravan. The battle was doubtless very bloody and very quick. The orcs have demanded almost the whole year’s harvest as ransom, if the townspeople accept this offer, they’re liable to starve. Sounds to me like its time to skip town, but a group of foolish optimists have approached me. They’re an alright bunch, for a bunch o elves, an’ I’ve worked with ‘em before.

They sent Tarik to come talk to me, don’t take a half brained grobii to figure out that sending their dwarf companion to talk to me is more likely to get me to take the job. Tarik seems fairly on the level, even if he does travel with them woodsy folk. He tells me that the town leadership has offered to pay their little band 225 gold pieces to rescue the merchants. TWO TWENTY FIVE!? Being ever happy to part people from the weight of their purse, I was more than happy to tag along. Tarik also told me that the party had engaged the services of that hulking barbarian that had been sittin’ round the tavern of late, evil lookin’ sumbitch if I ever saw one. Towers over everyone in the villiage, and his arms’ thicker than the blacksmiths!
I agree to accompany this madman’s quest for my usual fee, an even split of any goods found, + my own share of what the town pays them. (I’m fond of the guy, so I let him off easy) Tarik quickly agrees and I go pack up my things
Axe? Check
Sap? Check
Crossbow? Check
Ammo? Oh aye!

We head out and proceed towards the orc lair, its in the midst of winding canyons, and it takes the better part of a day to find it. When we get there, and its obvious that this is there, the entrance to the lair is a mere hole in the side of the canyon, with an iron portcullis covering it and a crude sign stuck in the ground, it reads “HUMIEZ KEEP OUT” …. I think,

The portcullis is made of sturdy iron, and its spikes dig into the ground. Inside, just out of reach, I spot a (very shoddily made) winch. Within the cave, I see the remains of a cook fire and along the back wall is a grisly collection of skulls, some animal and human, but a few elf skulls as well.

Tarik’s group begins discussing amongst themselves how they want to get the door open. I cross my arms and wait, keeping an eye on the hulking barbarian they’ve brought along, and the entrance to the cave. As I observe them shooting down each other’s plans and overhear something about a ‘magazine subscription’ whatever that is, the barbarian, obviously fed up, stomps over to the portcullis, grabs it by its base and HEAVES! Pulling it up over his head and holding it. “its open.” The barbarian deadpans.

I hear several surprised grunts just inside the cave and yell out a warning as I see an orc step out from beside the doorway and raise its axe.

Before it can swing, tarik rushes in and plants his shoulder into the Orc’s gut, shoving it back and following him into the cave. As Tarik and the orc fly through the entry in a tangled heap of limbs, weapons, and a beard, two more orcs take swings at them as they fly by, but they both miss and instead turn to look at the barbarian still holding the portcullis up.

Quicker than I can get my axe out, I see the party Tracker, Lan I think his name is, rush in and engage one of the orcs, either oblivious or over confident of his skill and ignoring the other. Just as I’m starting to head towards the fray (my axe hasn’t tasted swinekin in a long! Time) the barbarian heaves up the portcullis with a grunt and rushes in before it clangs back into place, hammering blow after blow at the last orc I can see.

Unfortunately for the idiots inside, the portcullis slams back into place, leaving me and the druid and her pet dog outside, the druid, Lawesse, rushes forward and tries to lift the portcullis but its obviously way to heavy for her. I draw my crossbow and step up to the portcullis and take a peak inside, all I see is a swirling melee, theres no way I can get a shot off without hitting one of my employers, so I put my crossbow away and lend my strength to helpming move the portcullis, after a few moments I hear the sound of an axe crashing into flesh followed by a human grunt of pain. I look up and see that Lan has taken a blow across the chest and has collapsed, two orcs standing over him. I can’t see Tarik or the barbarian.

I redouble my efforts to lift, encouraging Lawesse to do the same.

As I keep an eye on the orcs, I see them step out of sight, axes raised and evil grins upon their hateful faces, I hear the staccato ringing of axes against axes followed by a sickening crunch… then, a roar, more in common with the sound of an animal than a man, there are words within the roar. Words that, if he were here, would have the paladin sick with disgust and fear…. The words are BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE! My head snaps up at this, and I see an orc fly across the entry way to land out of sight.

With a grunt of effort I say to Lawesse ‘ye hired a NORSEMAN!?”
She ignores me, smart lass.

The rhythm of steel on steel picks up again, this time with the barbarian’s incoherent bellows providing a bass counterpoint to the high pitched squeal and ting of metal on metal.

… by the time we get the portcullis up, the battle is over, Lan lies on the ground, covered in blood (I’m not sure how much of it is his, the barbarian was very messy) Tarik is busy pouring a healing potion down his throat, he coughs, gags, and wakes up with a painful gasp.
Panting heavily from his exertion, the barbarian – Cog! That’s his name! – walks up and assesses the party for injury, he has a huge cut in his side, it looks deep, but it doesn’t seem to be troubling him.

I believe its time for a little valekian brand pick me up.
“so.” I say with a bemused grin, “what shall we do next??”
Lawesse ignores me again, smart lass.

There’s only one door in the room, and the party moves towards it, as the only one in the group with half a brain, I put my ear to the door and listen … I don’t hear a thing and I give the all clear to open the door.
This time, instead of arguing, they simply gesture for Cog to do his thing. Good, they’re learning. Cog steps up to the door and it bursts off its hinges as his foot connects with it.

“once smacked an orc boss in the face like that” Cog remarks as he steps back, allowing tarik and Lan in the room. Lan points with his sword at the far corner and exclaims “what is THAT?!” I follow his point and see a huge … cube… of … jello…
Oh buggah..

The cube begins to slide towards us, making a .. very unpleasant noise. “ I recommend we NOT let that touch us” I announce, and back away from the door.

They must agree with me for once, as they follow me out quickly as well. The cube reaches the doorway and begins to try and squeeze through it.

“it’s coming in! DO SOMETHING” … I think that was Lan, but I’m not sure. Tarik, Lan, and Lawesse all produce bows and open fire on the cube. Their projectiles sink into it, causin ripples along its surface. And then they begin to dissolve….
I pull out my crossbow and add to the barrage.
Heh, barrage, I kill me.

-minutes later-
Okay… this is dull, I mean, I know I don’t exactly sign up for being maimed and harmed, (course not, I sign up for the gold) but this is dull, the Cube obviously can’t get in here, but our missles don’t seem to be affecting it.

As I load my crossbow again, watching the previous missles disappear, I can’t help but sigh in exasperation, but I shrug and raise my crossbow to fire at the beast.
To my utter surprise, as Lan looses another arrow into the jello, it… pops? It begins to ripple and sizzle and deflate, losing its shape and spreading all over the floor.

“well… that was anti-climatic” I state.
The party moves on to the door on the opposite side of the room…
Ugh, man this room stinks!

I give the door the once over and open it, nothing on the other side, nothing dangerous at least, there’s an orc over in the corner collapsed in front of a treasure chest. He’s still breathing (a problem I rectify with my ax) and then give the chest a once over, unfortunately, in my haste, I set off the trap inside it, spraying some foul smoke into my face… man, that stuff is nasty.

The chest is mostly empty, and I leave it to be collected later.
As I head back to where the party is waiting, I notice something about the wall opposite the door… it looks, odd, it doesn’t match up to the rest of the wall.

Upon closer inspection, I find what seems to be a key hole, but we have no key for it, so I go abouts opening it ‘the hard way’
After a few tries, the door clicks open.

With the low rumble of stone on stone, the secret door swivels open. Behind it are three orcs, who are apparently very happy to see me…


I watch the orc step forward and swing his axe down at me in a lethal arc...

Time slows down….


stops

Worlok
2010-10-16, 10:03 AM
As I said: Worth the wait. I enjoyed it thoroughly. Valek comes off as a bit of a cynic, but it really helps getting into his head. :smallbiggrin:

Machuchang
2010-10-16, 04:53 PM
big teej: That was awesome! Valek's accent is awesome, and I love his personality. Gruff and a little cynical, but a good guy underneath it all. The battle sequences were well done, and I really loved the Warhammer reference in the barbarian's battle cry. I feel bad for Valek though. :smallfrown: I'd say that snippet was definitely worth the wait! Nice job!

Worlok: Looking forward to your snippets! I saw your first one, but didn't really get to read it.:smallfrown: So I really want to see what sort of things been going on in your games.


Now as for myself, I had a really epic session last weekend, and I've been writing loads of snippets based on it all week, and I've finally managed to complete three of them! The first two are flashbacks Varen had while knocked out, and the last finally picks up from Revelations in the Eye of the Storm.

So without further ado, here they are:

Fifteen Years Ago
(or 6 Year Olds are Adorable)

I made a new friend today!

She was standing outside all alone. She looked very sad, so I talked to her.

“Hi,” I said. “Why are you here?”

“My daddy doesn’t want me…” she said. “So he’s making me stay here. He’s talking to someone about it right now,” She was really, really sad. That made me sad too.

“Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry,”

“He doesn’t like me anymore,” She said. “He said that I’ll never see him again…” She started crying. That made me feel worse.

“Don’t cry!” I said. “I like you,”

“Yeah…?” she said. I thought I saw her smile.

“Yeah!” I said. “You want to be friends?”

“Okay,” she said. She stopped crying, and that made me happy. “I’m Natalia,” she said.

“Nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m Varen,”


Four Years Ago
(or 17 Year Olds Are Much Less Adorable than 6 Year Olds)

Natalia had been gone for a while. I was starting to get nervous. She had been out with him for far too long. Lance… He was a real piece of work, a manipulative street tough who only cared about himself, but could convince just about everyone around him otherwise. He could get away with anything he wanted, and he did. He was a complete and total scumbag, that was for sure.

I just couldn’t understand what Natalia saw in him.

They had been going out for far too long. He would sneak on to the abbey grounds and throw rocks at her window until she would sneak out and run off with him. They would disappear for hours at a time, at least once a week, until she would come back in the early hours of the morning. Alone. But this time, she had been gone for much longer than usual…

I heard a loud knock upon the door. I opened it, and there was Tali at last, but not as I had expected her. Her face was streaked with tears, and her face was red. She looked like she had been crying for a while.

“H-hey, Varen…” she said between sobs. “C-can I come I-in?”

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Is everything alright?” She shook her head as she entered.

“No…” she mumbled, as she closed the door behind her. “Lance said he’s through with me,”

“What? What happened?” I knew no good would come from him…

“We… y-you know…” her voice trailed off. “H-he said it would strengthen our relationship… He g-got what he wanted, a-and that was it… He was done…” She looked as though she was about to start crying again.

“Oh, Tali…” I murmured. “I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know,”

The next thing I knew, I had my back against the bed, her body pressed firmly against mine. Her arms were wrapped tightly around my body, her head pressed again my chest.

“You’ve always been so good to me…” I heard her sob. “Always willing to listen, always there… I need you, and I’ll do anything to keep you around. Anything…” What had gotten into her? “I just don’t want to be alone,”

Oh gods. I wanted her. I gazed down at her, taking in her beautiful blue eyes, her golden hair, her perfect figure, her sweet scent. She smiled at me, and began to lean in.

No. This wasn’t right! She wasn’t herself, and I would be even worse than Lance if I were to anything to her now.

I stopped her, just as her lips began to touch mine.

“Tali,” I said. “Don’t. You’re not yourself. Please… stop,”

She recoiled instantly, with a look of pure shock on her face that was quickly replaced by one of anguish and rage.

“What, is something wrong with me?!” she screamed. Before I could do anything to stop her, she had gone, slamming the door behind her.

Feeling terrible, I curled up in my bed, hoping that rest could simply wash away the encounter. But sleep never came. My mind kept wandering to other things. Did I do the wrong thing? What if I handled that a different way? I need to hurt Lance. I need to apologize. I need to, I need to. What if, what if?

Morning came way too soon. Forcing myself out of bed, I went down to the eating hall, though I wasn’t hungry. When I entered, I saw Tali. Avoiding my gaze, she stood to leave and brushed past me, not saying a word. I turned to follow her, but found that I just couldn’t. Feeling even worse than before, I took my seat at the table, where I remained until everyone else had finished.

Just wanting to get away from everything, I got up and just started walking. After a long, long, while, I found myself sitting alone at the brook. Closing my eyes, I tried once again to escape, only to be disturbed by the sound of footsteps.


“I’m sorry about last night,” I heard her say from behind me. “And this morning. I just needed some time alone to think,”

“I’m really sorry about what I did too,” I replied. “There’s nothing wrong with you, you know.”

“Yeah,” she said, giving me a slight smile as she sat beside me.

“You feel better?”

She nodded. We sat in silence, just watching the creek, side by side.

“You’re a good friend, Varen,” she said eventually, still watching the river. “And I hope that those… stupid things I did last night won’t change that. You mean a lot to me…” she continued, turning to face me. “As a friend. And I really hope that we’ll be able to continue on like this never happened.”

“Tali, nothing has changed,” I said. “No matter what you do, no matter what happens, I will always be your friend, and as long as I’m around, you’ll never, ever, be alone,”


“That’s all I need,” I heard her whisper. “That’s all I need,”



In Search of Truth
(or Three Years for THIS?!)

It was still raining when I finally came to, and I was soaked through to the bone. How long had I been unconscious? The sky was still dark; I couldn’t even tell if it was the same day, much less morning or night. Slowly, my thoughts began to return to me.

It was Natalia I had fought. Or was it? No, it had to be… But why? Why had she taken the mantle of the Deathwind? Why did she fight me? Did she really want me to join her? Where was she now? Why was I still alive? I had far too many questions, and much too little time. I needed to catch up to the Fear Legion as quickly as I could. Only then would I finally have answers.

But first I would have to get off this cliff. Cautiously, I started my descent, my mind still spinning from fatigue. Unfortunately, my foot hit a slick stone, and before I knew it, I was at the base of the hill, covered in even more bruises and blood than I had before. I picked myself up and started walking. Lightning illuminated the sky, revealing an open patch in the grass. I could have sworn I saw a flash of gold.

When I arrived there, I found her. Natalia was lying there, in nothing but rags, covered in blood. When I got closer, I realized with horror that her eyes had been gouged out.

But she had a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. She was alive! She was definitely alive! Cradling her with one arm, I searched frantically through my pack until I found what I was looking for. A small vial, filled with glowing red liquid. She needed this a lot more than I did now. Carefully, I emptied it into her mouth, forcing her to swallow it.

Coughing and spluttering, she entered the world of the living. Feeling my grip, she jolted, and screamed.

“Tali! Tali, it’s me!” I tried to calm her down.

“Varen…?” she mumbled, turning her head in my direction. “You should have just let me die…”

“Tali, please,” I begged. “Tell me what happened. Why were you imitating the Deathwind? Were you leading them? What is going on?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” she coughed. “Besides, it doesn’t make a difference anymore…”

“Tali,” I pleaded. “I need to know. For three years, I have been searching for you, only to find this. Please…”

“Three years?” she laughed weakly. “Three years? You’re an idiot. You should have just given up on me…”

“I could never give up on you,”

“We’ll see,” her tone became bitter. “You really want to know what happened? I led them. I killed the Deathwind and took his place. I’ve been behind it all. I was your enemy. So just kill me...” I noticed that tears were running down her face. “Just end it,”

So it was true. She had become a powerful force of evil in the world, only to finally be thrown down at the pinnacle of her reign. She had been the one who had orchestrated countless crimes against the King and all of Geridia. She had become everything that I sought to oppose, to destroy.


But gods forgive me, I loved her. I always did.



“No,” I said. “If what you say is true, then there are crimes that you must answer for. But I will not be the one to condemn you. There are ways that you can right the wrongs you have committed, and I refuse to believe that there is no good left in you,”

“You really think you can redeem me?” she chuckled. “You’re an idiot,”

I helped her to her feet, and held her close as she used me for support.

“Alright,” she sighed. “Where do we start?”


Perhaps it was some vain hope, a belief that she still had some goodness in her, that colored my final decision. Perhaps it was a need for answers, or a desire to absolve her from her crimes. Or perhaps it was all of those thoughts and far, far more. But she came along, and I still don't know why. All I knew for sure was that I couldn’t let her go.


Not now. Not ever.

big teej
2010-10-16, 05:17 PM
big teej: That was awesome! Valek's accent is awesome, and I love his personality. Gruff and a little cynical, but a good guy underneath it all. The battle sequences were well done, and I really loved the Warhammer reference in the barbarian's battle cry. I feel bad for Valek though. :smallfrown: I'd say that snippet was definitely worth the wait! Nice job!

:smallredface::smallredface::smallredface:
-bows-
thankyou :smallbiggrin:

the barbarian is the infamous 'planeswalker' I keep referring too. who was largelyalmost totally inspired by warhammer =]

I felt bad for valek too.... he's the only rogue I've ever played

but I refuse to flub dice rolls, even when my favorite characters are on the line.


also...
great work with varen
:smalltongue: I'm sorry I'm not in a rambling mood, but I promise that those snippets are definilty worth of one :smallbiggrin:

Machuchang
2010-10-16, 08:10 PM
I felt bad for valek too.... he's the only rogue I've ever played

but I refuse to flub dice rolls, even when my favorite characters are on the line.

You are a better man than I.:smalltongue: I flub rolls like crazy.


also...
great work with varen
:smalltongue: I'm sorry I'm not in a rambling mood, but I promise that those snippets are definilty worth of one :smallbiggrin:

Hey, you said enough with just that.:smallbiggrin: Thanks a lot!

Lady Moreta
2010-10-17, 04:43 AM
after much procrastination and agonizing and writers block, I give you all, The Death of Valek

Word has spread quickly through town that a band of orcs has ambushed and captured a trade caravan. The battle was doubtless very bloody and very quick. The orcs have demanded almost the whole year’s harvest as ransom, if the townspeople accept this offer, they’re liable to starve. Sounds to me like its time to skip town, but a group of foolish optimists have approached me. They’re an alright bunch, for a bunch o elves, an’ I’ve worked with ‘em before.

I enjoyed this, poor Valek. I enjoyed the accent as well, but would suggest that you be careful how you use it. I noticed (and the above paragraph is a good example of it) that when you're simply describing something, you lose the accent, but when you're writing something that Valek would be thinking you switch to the accent. Essentially the entire snippet is in Valek's voice - we're pretty much inside his head - and most people do tend to 'talk' when they're thinking. I think it would have flowed better had the entire thing been in the 'bunch o elves' language, or the entire thing not in that style. Easiest way I can think of to do it, is to just write it as normal, and then go back and adjust everything to suit the folksy style you were after.



Fifteen Years Ago
(or 6 Year Olds are Adorable)

Aww.


Four Years Ago
(or 17 Year Olds Are Much Less Adorable than 6 Year Olds)

Awwwww.


In Search of Truth
(or Three Years for THIS?!)

Awwwwwwwwww...

Seriously, they just had me melting. The 6 year old one was just utterly adorable, the 17 year old one was such a lovely example of a guy doing the right thing. And I dread to think what's going to happen to poor Varen after this little lot. Poor thing.

And since I'm here, have another snippet. Wrote this as backstory for another pbp character I'm creating.


Rosalind Armstrong

My head. My head aches. There was something – something important, something I needed to do. Something I should remember. Something...

“Mmmmpphghggfhh...” Was that my voice? Perhaps?

“Mmmmarrh?” It appeared it was my voice. What next? The – room? Location. Location was everything. Where am I?

Get up. Get up R- R-- Ros? Rose? Oh dear. Worry later. Get up now. Get up.

A room. Messy. Very messy. Derrrr.... Derr --- ick... would not approve. I don’t have mess. De- someone doesn’t approve.

I can’t see. What? In my eyes? I wipe them with the back of my hand. Liquid. Deep, dark red. The colour of that dress. That one that – they like me in. It’s pretty, glossy and red. It almost sparkles. Smells funny though.

I think I should tidy up. My hands push up. My head spins. The liquid on my hands and face is on the floor in front of me. My hands slip and I fall face first to the floor. My head spins. I should look up.

A person? A man. On his side, away from me. Maybe he knows why my head aches. I reach out and shake him. My hands wobble, but I can catch his shirt. He falls on to his back. His head falls to the side and eyes stare at me. Dark eyes. Blue eyes. Covered in – in... blood.

“NOOOOOOOOO!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I remember. I remember all of it. I am Rosalind Armstrong. Rosie to my friends. Rosie to my- my husband. Derrick. Derrick who lies dead before me. The red liquid on my hands and face is blood. My blood.

I remember everything.

Derrick screaming at me to take the artefact and run. Derrick running to bar the door to the parlour. A black form slamming the door before he could reach it, sending Derrick flying into the wall. Myself, terrified, running for the tiny derringer hidden in the desk drawer. The explosive force of wood chips flying into my face. I had turned, and the black figure lowered a gun. Lowered it just long enough for Derrick to slam into them from the side. He yelled again for me to run. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I scrambled for the derringer among the ruins of the drawer. I couldn’t find it. Derrick grunted. No time to find the gun. I went for the chair instead. Smashed it over the back of the dark figure. They fell and Derrick scrambled to one side. Shoved the artefact into my hands, and pushed me towards the door. The dark figure stood. Derrick pushed me behind him. A gun went off. Derrick fell. I screamed. And then I ran.

I thought I had run. My current situation suggested otherwise. I raised a shaking hand to my face. Found torn and tattered skin. A bullet graze. But I wasn’t dead. I must have made a convincing corpse though, for the dark figure was gone. Gone. Gone...

The artefact!

Staggering to my feet, I searched. I looked everywhere. I did not touch Derrick.

It was gone.

I fell hard against the desk, my head throbbing. My hands found the wall behind me, and I slid down to the floor. My fingers left slimy red stains on the wall. Blood. And – what was that, underneath my hand? I curled fingers around the cool metal and turned my hand over. The derringer. The thrice-damned derringer.

Tears. Tears both hot and cold. I screamed, ignoring the pain stabbing through my mind. My head. My – my stomach? I felt abruptly cold. The sick feeling in my stomach, whenever the supernatural was nearby. I hadn’t noticed till now. Had I condemned my husband to death? Had I killed him by my inattention?

The hand holding the derringer slammed into the floor. Followed by the other hand. Paper rustled. Dully, I picked it up and turned it over. It was that letter. The one from that group in New Orleans. Requesting the presence of my husband. Derrick... oh Derrick...

He had refused the request. For my sake he said. Few knew that his success as an archaeologist, his success in investigating the supernatural came largely from me. From my abilities to sense and manipulate the supernatural. He had decided the risk was not worth it. Not worth it. Not worth my life, he had said. Surely if they knew his success came from a woman, through a woman. Our world was not enlightened enough, he had said. Better for me to remain hidden. He had done it to save me. And I had killed him.

Tears. Tears both hot and cold. They ran down my face and mixed with blood still flowing from my temple. As I stared at the floor, they dropped from my cheeks. I wept blood. As the Lord had in the Garden of Gethsemane. Why, God? Why?

As I sat there, I made my decision. Derrick and I had been happy. I would never be happy without him. I would join this group in New Orleans, and if they had a problem with my being a woman. They would not have it for long.

I would use this group to help me find the artefact and the dark figure. And I would keep the derringer with me always. I would not be unprepared again.

And I would weep blood, even as the Lord Jesus; until I was reunited with my Derrick.

freebiewitz
2010-10-17, 09:13 AM
You might remember and the story of Rered Naw captain of the S.S.Silver….. well isn’t that story, this is a different perhaps just as entertaining story!

It's really long though, thus the spoiler.

Am I alive? I don’t know. Am I awake? I think so.
From the perspective of Mister, a warforged rouge.

Darkness, it isn’t cold and I feel nothing. Not that I could feel the cold in the first place. I can feel pain but not the way others do. I do not fear pain, just what it represents. It represents oblivion, elimination the inability to carry out ones orders. To fail in one’s purpose, this is what I fear. This fear has come true, everything is dark. I do now know how long I had been like this but it had been a long while. Suddenly information floods my optical receivers, the things that humans call eyes. It is bright but I cannot blink, despite this I soon adjust. A young boy, human?

Yes human a male, his anatomy suggests that he is a non-combatant, a secondary target at best. Target? What does that mean? What’s a human? “Oi it moved!” The boy yells as I turn my head to get a better look at him. Soon I am surrounded by more boys some with weapons. Am I being threatened? Something in my head clicks, I try to move my hand but it is held down. Turning my head to see what has obstructed me I see a root from a tree. Looking at my body I realize that I have been here for a long time, so long that nature has grown over me. The boys weren’t brandishing weapons; they intended to dig me out.

Soon I was free, they were clearly not hostile and thus I had no reason to attack. Thus I stood there. “Hey c’mon, we got to show you to everyone else Dad said he didn’t believe me but once I show you no one will call me a liar anymore!” The child proclaims.” I nod, a direct order though not completely official is still an order. Walking with the boy his friends chat excitedly amongst each other occasionally glancing back at me when they assumed I wasn’t watching. “So what’s you name Mister? You can call me Jacob!” Name? This unit did not have a name. What did the child call this unit? Mister was it?

“This Unit has no name.” Disappointed he frowned deep in thought. For a while I was ignored until we had cleared the forest. Reaching the village complete chaos had ensued. Screams and yells were issued. The children wanted to show me off as a sort of prize but clearly they had no idea what I was but to be fair neither did I, all this unit knew was that it required orders. As the scene in front of us unfolds the villagers panic and run. One of men holds a pointy stick made of metal comes forward. “Get away from the children!” He commands. A direct order so I comply.

Confused the man isn’t sure what to do. The boy known as Jacob runs up and yells. “See dad I told you there was a giant puppet sleeping in the forest.” He yells with glee.
His father dumbfounded stares at me not lowering his stick. “Jacob, this thing is a warforged, a war machine!” He yells. “This thing will kill us all! They haven’t been around for decades and you bring one in!” He asks. Warforged, is that what I am? A war machine? That makes sense, I follow orders like a soldier, yet I do not have the will to fight. Looking at the stick I ask. “Can you lower that stick?”
“I will not lower my sword!” He yells. “Not until you lay dead that is!”
“This unit has never seen a sword before, what is its function?” I ask curious.

Reeling back as if struck he isn’t sure what to say. “Well warforged aren’t known for lying…. Boy you said you found it in the forest right? Maybe that did something screwy with its brain?” A possibility, running a systems check I find that several functions are missing. My combat drive has been damaged however it seems my learning hardware has increased to compensate. “Do you have a name?” He asks hesitantly.
“I have only been referred to as ‘Mister from Jacob.”

Several years pass, the village has more or less become more accustomed to me. Jacob has been growing up and has been learning his father’s trade and is becoming a decent blacksmith. I too have taken up this trade and many others. The ability to create is strangely satisfying. “Hey Mister I bet I can fix this horse shoe then you can fix that spade!” He yells hammering it.
“Illogical, despite my ability to work at peak capacity the horse shoes mass in significantly smaller than that of the spade thus your victory is already assured, this competition is meaningless.” I say not taking my eyes off the tool.

“C’mon Mister just do it! Race me!” Another direct order, thus I comply. I find myself working faster than usual cutting corners that I normally would not but despite this I still fail. Celebrating Jacob then moves onto the next horse shoe, I then slow down and proceed to fix the spade properly.

Several more years past, Jacob is now a proper adult, his father too old to work the forge. I have taken up many trades, I have been taught how to smith, how to weave and even cook. I am not only accepted here but loved, the children play with me whenever I have spare time, during festivals and times of celebrations I create toys for them. The children are very important to me. Everyone else still sees me as a war machine but the children? They see me as alive, they cannot comprehend that I am just a golem, a machine. If it can move and talk then it is alive. It is illogical but I am fond of them for this reason. Jacob of course treats me like a human and even family.

Fifty years past. Jacob has died of old age, leaving me the forge I feel a strange emotion. Sadness, he is the first person I have ever seen, the first person to accept me. Now he is gone. It is illogical the way I think. Many of the children I played with have grown up now and everyone in the village accepts me whole heartedly, no longer am I the subject of paranoia and ill will. I am a fact of life, an old tree that has always been there a building that has wistood the test of time. To these people I am just an object, only the children see me as alive. The only adult to see me as alive was Jacob.

A decade later, I have converted the forge into an orphanage. My skills in cooking and weaving have not gone to waste. To feed the children I hunt using the bow and arrow I made myself. Using the fur I sell it and the meat I keep. The villages like me since I repair everything and help in the construction in everything new. Since I do not sleep I spend my nights creating. Thus I am well funded for an orphanage. The establishment was created after the war in the south was announced; parents had to go to war and never returned leaving me to care for them. I was never conscripted since I was not considered a person.

Two years later. I wish to smith again but the orphanage is my primary concern, at the moment it is over capacity, the village has become larger due to the refugees. Many of them do not bat an eye to me, my kind are too old to be remembered now. The war is with another kingdom, human against human. According to the news we are winning however with this many people starving I ask myself what have we won? I try to farm, catch and cook as much food for everyone but I am not efficient enough, there are too many people. I can only feed my orphanage.

One year later. A report from the south, something is coming, not the enemy army though something else a dragon. Rumours of course and something I do not concern myself over, I have an orphanage to maintain. The children love me and I love them, they are mine after all. Out in the forest I hunt not for their next meal but for a beast that has been chasing away the local game. A lone wolf that has wandered in from the west and I must kill it. The fur alone should at least buy me a large bag of grains from the market if I’m lucky. Winter is coming up so fur is valuable.
Killing the wolf easily enough I return to find everything on fire. It’s the dragon. I run into the inferno not caring for my own safety, my existence does not matter. No one is alive, everyone is dead, the dragon that’s what it was! It was the dragon, this unit is not equipped to fight a dragon. Looking up my limbs freeze, something inside me screams RUN! Is this what fear was? Through the smoke and fog a large red lizards looms over me, it does not even notice me, it simply passes yet I fear for myself for the first time ever.

So I run, this unit cannot fight so it is logical.

Years pass, I have taken to the road and become something that is called an adventurer. My allies appreciate my skills, one of them a cleric enjoys my company greatly despite everyone else’s coldness. Logically it was because they did not like the cleric either however we were kept because we were useful. The cleric was named Joran and he was disliked because his god was the god of death. Though many considered him to be evil they permitted him to stay because of his hatred of undead. “They are unnatural, trying to escape the natural order of things!” He would say.

“What about me?” I ask. He smiles and puts his hand on my shoulder.
“You are clearly affected by positive and negative energy the way I am, though not completely you are alive and thus can eventually die which means you are not an abomination.” I do not know why but this makes me pleased, if only everyone could think like this. It was logical, you could only be alive if you could die. I was content. Our quest was to slay a dragon, a red dragon the same one that had destroyed my village all those years ago.

Years pass, Joran and I have become fast friends with the rest of the group. Not everyone accepts us but we have each other at least. They accept Joran because he is brave and willing to save the lives of all while they like me because of my honesty and ability to create plans, something not too different from my crafts. Though Koras the barbarian from the east likes me because I know how to cook. “Hey Mister, you need a last name.” Koras yells in between mouth fulls of turkey. Though I cannot eat I sit with everyone during meal times.
“This unit does not require a last name.” I reply.
“C’mon everyone needs a last name it tells everyone where you came from!”
Pausing for a moment I then talk. “Very well, you may call me Mister Jacob from now on.”

big teej
2010-10-17, 11:21 AM
You are a better man than I.:smalltongue: I flub rolls like crazy.



Hey, you said enough with just that.:smallbiggrin: Thanks a lot!

yay lawfulness! :smalltongue:

and you are welcome.


I enjoyed this, poor Valek. I enjoyed the accent as well, but would suggest that you be careful how you use it. I noticed (and the above paragraph is a good example of it) that when you're simply describing something, you lose the accent, but when you're writing something that Valek would be thinking you switch to the accent. Essentially the entire snippet is in Valek's voice - we're pretty much inside his head - and most people do tend to 'talk' when they're thinking. I think it would have flowed better had the entire thing been in the 'bunch o elves' language, or the entire thing not in that style. Easiest way I can think of to do it, is to just write it as normal, and then go back and adjust everything to suit the folksy style you were after.



yea..... but I know why that happened, I was typing up the 'read this to the players' boxes in the modules and just tweaked it a bit. hopefully that sort of thing won't crop up when I write outside the module...

I'm glad you liked it ^_^

I might go back and rewrite it purely from his perspective...


also
your snippet was good :smallbiggrin:



You might remember and the story of Rered Naw captain of the S.S.Silver….. well isn’t that story, this is a different perhaps just as entertaining story!

It's really long though, thus the spoiler.

Am I alive? I don’t know. Am I awake? I think so.
From the perspective of Mister, a warforged rouge.



I like!!!!

just one small teeny tiny complaint.... and this is something I can lodge against everyone who contributes to this thread, including myself...
it makes me want to be a player again instead of being a DM :smallbiggrin:

meaning: this was a great read

Machuchang
2010-10-17, 12:10 PM
Am I alive? I don’t know. Am I awake? I think so.
From the perspective of Mister, a warforged rouge.


Oh man! That was just amazing. I love Mister! He had a fascinating perspective of the world, and the way he narrated was just excellent. His logical mind reminded me somewhat of Meursault from Camus's The Stranger (a good thing), but I really enjoyed how I could still perceive the emotions that Mister was feeling. I felt so bad for him, though, with every cruddy thing that happened to him throughout his life, but I really admired the way he pulled himself through it all, always doing things on others' behalves. I found Mister to be an incredibly admirable character. You really did a great job!

Also, the ending was just beautiful.



Seriously, they just had me melting. The 6 year old one was just utterly adorable, the 17 year old one was such a lovely example of a guy doing the right thing. And I dread to think what's going to happen to poor Varen after this little lot. Poor thing.

I'm glad you enjoyed them.:smallredface:



Rosalind Armstrong
Wow... That was really intense.:smalleek:

But you did a fantastic job! I love the amnesia bit at the beginning, and I think you managed to convey the fuzziness of her thoughts and slow return to horrifying lucidity in an excellent manner. The battle scene was very well written, and I thought it really added to the confused and eerie tone of the story, while at the same time contrasting with the slow and foreboding sense of the beginning. I loved it.

Just out of curiosity, what time period does her story take place in?

Lady Moreta
2010-10-17, 11:18 PM
Freebiewitz, I really enjoyed this. I think you got into the head of a creature that's alive-but-not really well. Just a couple of things I noticed...


It represents oblivion, elimination the inability to carry out ones orders.

This sentence doesn't make sense. I think you've got a double negative in there somewhere. If you eliminate the inability, then you've got ability - which doesn't seem to be what you're going for here.


To fail in one’s purpose,

Don't need any apostraphe here :smallsmile: I know that might seem like nitpicking, it's just a pet peeve of mine.


Pausing for a moment I then talk. “Very well, you may call me Mister Jacob from now on.”

This though? This just made me go "awwwwww" :smallsmile: Beautiful ending, I loved it :smallbiggrin:


Wow... That was really intense.:smalleek:

But you did a fantastic job! I love the amnesia bit at the beginning, and I think you managed to convey the fuzziness of her thoughts and slow return to horrifying lucidity in an excellent manner. The battle scene was very well written, and I thought it really added to the confused and eerie tone of the story, while at the same time contrasting with the slow and foreboding sense of the beginning. I loved it.

Just out of curiosity, what time period does her story take place in?

Thank you :smallsmile: That was the feeling I was going for. I'm glad it worked so well, I wasn't sure if it was really coming across properly. But it's hard to really write/convey a sense of amnesia when you've never experienced it yourself.

19th Century, Victorian England. The game itself is set in 1891, and we've been told that the group has been together for about a year before the game itself starts. So I would say that scene happened either early 1890 or late 1889. Need to finish the actual character sheet already... it's a bit confusing trying to generate a 3.5 character when it's not normal fantasy.

Lord_Gareth
2010-10-17, 11:39 PM
I'm sorry I haven't delivered anything yet. IRL has been kicking the CRAP out of me.

Lady Moreta
2010-10-18, 12:02 AM
Hey! you're back :smallsmile:

Missed you. Missed your writing :smallsmile:

Machuchang
2010-10-18, 12:07 AM
Thank you :smallsmile: That was the feeling I was going for. I'm glad it worked so well, I wasn't sure if it was really coming across properly. But it's hard to really write/convey a sense of amnesia when you've never experienced it yourself.

Yeah, I really struggle with writing amnesia bits, but you really nailed it. I may have to use it as a reference some time.


19th Century, Victorian England. The game itself is set in 1891, and we've been told that the group has been together for about a year before the game itself starts. So I would say that scene happened either early 1890 or late 1889. Need to finish the actual character sheet already... it's a bit confusing trying to generate a 3.5 character when it's not normal fantasy.

Ooh! Fun! That sounds a lot like a steampunk game I just finished, in terms of the outfits and rule sets, at the very least. I should probably write some snippets based off of that campaign, come to think of it...


Meanwhile, I've been very productive snippet-wise recently.:smallbiggrin:

Here's two more from the same story, but with a NEW main character, at least for the moment.

The Other Side
(or Ohhhhhhhhh...!)

I couldn’t believe that he was this much of an idiot. How the hell could he have possibly gotten here? This was never supposed to happen!

Varen, you were never supposed to come…

After three years, I almost wished I could just forget about him. Sure, I had known that he had been searching for me; the Legion’s scouts were highly efficient, and the Clans keep in close touch. But I had never expected him to get this far. He never could give anything up. It would be better for the mission, better for me, if I could just remove him from my mind, go on as though he never existed.

So why was I going out alone? Why had I left the Legion without so much as a word? Why had I walked for miles to the spot where he had last been seen? I wished that I didn’t know the answers.

Gods damn him!

I don’t know how I managed to find him so quickly. But there he was, sitting, watching the storm. I had to drive him away. I couldn’t let him risk his life any longer.

Slowly, I began to approach him. But I wasn’t stealthy enough. The crack of thunder filled the air, jolting him from his thoughts and revealing me. With horror, rage, and revulsion, he gazed upon me.

“You!” he screamed, drawing his sword and shield. He would have killed me if given half the chance. He absolutely despised me. It was surprising how much that hurt. But I had a role to play.

“You have come far,” I rumbled, my voice sounding so strange and alien through the magics of my mask. “But I would turn back if I were you. It would be a great waste to all of Attare to see the end of such a skilled warrior here. Leave now, little pawn of the emperor, and I may just spare your life,”

“Silence! You have been a source of misery in this land for far too long! I will make you pay for your crimes, here and now!” So that was how it had to be…

“Very well then,” I murmured, trying to hide my sadness. “You will die here,”

Before I knew what had happened, he had already rushed into me. I barely managed to block his blade in time. Since when had he gotten this good? But I had always been better. Fending off his attacks, I found an opening, and slammed my foot into his sternum. He screamed, and I heard the snapping of bone. Perhaps if I crippled him badly enough, he would have no choice but to abandon his useless search for me. Yes, that would be my new battle plan, I thought as I cracked the pommel of my sword against his head. I would make him forget about me. I swung my sword around, planning to hit him with its flat, but he somehow managed to dodge it. He had gotten better… But it didn’t matter. I would defeat him here. I had to.

But as I moved closer, he somehow managed to tumble under my blade, and struck me in the side. But he was too close to avoid me now. I whipped my sword around with as much force as I could muster, yet somehow he managed to block it. But the damage was done. He fell to the ground, coughing blood. There was no way he could keep fighting after that. He was open. I could have just finished our battle right then. But something stopped me. He looked so pitiful. I couldn’t bring myself to hurt him any more.

“You are strong-willed, paladin,” I said. What was I doing? “Far too strong-willed for your own good. Yet you fight us. You must know that you cannot stop us, so why do you resist? Join us, and exert this will of yours over others! You could have anything you desire!” I still don’t know why I said that. Was there still some foolish hope of mine that we could be together again? As soon as I spoke, though, I knew his response.

“All I want is Natalia, you son of a whore,” he spat, his blood splattering my boots. Why wouldn’t he just give up? I saw only one option. He had to believe that I was dead. Then there would no longer be a reason for him to search. I would have to crush his resolve, and destroy every last bit of hope he had in his quest. Then, at least he would live…

“Natalia…” I purred, shocked by malevolence in my tone. “Such a pretty name… Yes, I remember her. She was my favorite,” I began to laugh. It was almost as though the Deathwind himself was speaking through me, bringing up far too many bad memories. “Though never willing of course… She had such beautiful screams,”

But my words had the exact opposite effect of my intent. With a scream of rage that chilled my bones, he arced his sword through the air with tremendous speed, bringing himself to his feet. I blocked his strike just in time. But he refused to be stopped.

Time seemed to slow as he drove his sword through mine, splitting it in two. I had barely managed to jerk my head back in time as his blade careened into my mask, shattering it into pieces.

So there I stood. Face to face with him for the first time in three years. He seemed so different, but at the same time, he didn’t seem to have changed at all. He still had the same black hair, the same ponytail, and the same blue eyes. But he looked older. His face had narrowed, and he was taller. It amazed me how I couldn’t see the changes until now.

Perhaps most noticeable, though, was his horrified expression.

“N-Natalia,” he could barely speak. “Natalia… Tali… why? W-Were you behind all this? What have you done?!” Why couldn’t I have just finished him when I had the chance?

Over the sound of the storm, I heard the sound of voices getting closer and closer. Not now…

There was no time to waste. If I didn’t do something about Varen now, they would kill him for sure!

He was crying now. I made my way to him slowly, and brushed away his tears, cupping his face in my hand,

“Varen, I’m so sorry,” I whispered as I kissed his cheek, before ramming my broken blade right into his crushed rib. He stumbled backwards, and gaped in confusion and fear at the sword shoved into his side. His face was contorted with pain as he fell to the ground.

And then they finally arrived. Four scouts rushed to greet me, noticing Varen lying on the ground and the wound in my side. How could I have forgotten about them? I could only pray that they hadn’t seen anything.

“Lord Deathwind!” one wearing a tiger’s skull ran to me. “Are you alright?”

“I have taken care of the intruder,” I growled. “I am fine,”

Another scout wearing a crocodile’s skull kicked Varen.

“That no good bitch of the Emperor!” he shrieked, as he drew his knife. “I say we gut him right here! As a message to all those bastards who think to oppose us!”

“No!” I shouted, much more frantically than I had intended. “He was a worthy opponent! Respect his corpse as that of a warrior far more powerful than yourself! Only the weak seek to exert their power over those who are already dead,” He glared at me sullenly, before sheathing his dagger.

“Let's go,” I said, without looking back.


Betrayal
(or Karma's a Bitch)

The scouts were unusually silent on the way back. Still recovering from the battle with Varen, I didn’t realize what that meant until it was too late. When we had finally reached the camp, I was confronted with an unmistakable silhouette. Tall and thin, with massive antlers jutting from the fused skulls he wore as a helmet. The Hearteater. To my shock, the scouts who had accompanied me broke away from me, to stand behind him.

Just when I thought I had nothing more to worry about…

“Well, well, well,” he cackled smugly, his hideous nasally voice filling the air. “If it isn’t the Deathwind!” he taunted.

“What do you want?” I asked, knowing full well what he was here for.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten!” he acted hurt. “Surely you must remember our little deal? If you don’t, I’m sure that the whole tribe would be happy to assist you in… remembering,”

A chill went down my spine. He couldn’t have told them, could he?

“Oh, I have told them. They all know how you really came to power,” he laughed even harder. “About the poison I lent you, and how you fed it to the real Deathwind in his sleep. About how he thought you were his deceased wife! About how he was too weak and heartbroken to raise a hand against you when you ran him through in a bid to become leader! And they too know about how you promised ME rulership of the clan for my assistance, before you EXILED me for knowing too much!” he was now screaming in rage. “THEY ALL KNOW, NATALIA! THEY KNOW THE DAMNING TRUTH! AND THERE IS NOTHING A CROWNBREAKER HATES MORE THAN A TRAITOR! I WILL TAKE WHAT IS RIGHTFULLY MINE, AND ALL OF THE FEAR LEGION STANDS BEHIND ME!”

How could he possibly have done all of this in the time it took for me to get to Varen and back? It made no sense! Even worse though, his screaming attracted the rest of the clan. Soon, we were surrounded on all sides.

“You’re wondering how I got them all to support me, aren’t you?” he said. “Quite simple really. They. Don’t. Like. You,” I could practically feel him smirking behind his mask. “Besides, there are many secrets I am privy to,” he said darkly. “Like Varen,”

No…

“Oh yes, Natalia. I know all about him. I know about his search for you, his…” he laughed menacingly. “His UNDYING love!” he shrieked in delight. “I also know that you didn’t really kill him there,”

I was speechless. Even the scouts looked surprised. How could he have known? That could have only happened mere hours ago, at the very most! Nothing was making sense anymore! What was going on? What WAS he?

“Smart move, by the way,” he said, sounding almost congratulatory. “Really, quite a wise decision, incapacitating him with pain like that. I bet he’ll still be unconscious by the time I’m finished with you. I’ll make sure to send some of my men back to that spot to finish him for good,”

“You’ll need to be alive to become chieftain first!” I snarled.

“Very well then!” he chortled. “Natalia, Deathwind, I CHALLENGE YOU FOR LEADERSHIP OF THE CLAN!” He pointed his finger at me, and suddenly, I couldn’t move. Slowly, he stalked towards me.

“Well, that was so fast as to be disappointing,” he shook his head. “I would kill you, but you know how magic isn’t technically allowed in these duels. I’d hate to break even more rules and kill you now,” he taunted. “After all, I actually want to lead them. Lead them to greatness, rather than use them for my own selfish ends as you did. So as much as it pains me deep down, I will not kill you. However, I will do the next best thing!” he began to laugh hysterically, as his right hand began to morph into a giant, hideous claw.

“NO RULES AGAINST THAT!” he screeched as he plunged his talons into my eyes.

Lady Moreta
2010-10-18, 03:42 AM
Yeah, I really struggle with writing amnesia bits, but you really nailed it. I may have to use it as a reference some time.

Awwwwww :smallredface: (I am using that word way too much lately).


The Other Side
(or Ohhhhhhhhh...!)

Betrayal
(or Karma's a Bitch)

“NO RULES AGAINST THAT!” he screeched as he plunged his talons into my eyes.


Wow. Just wow.

You have an incredibly ability to get into the heads of your characters. No mean feat when they're so very different. I loved seeing and hearing from Natalia's point of view. You've managed to make the tone completely different - you can tell they're different people, because they really sound different in writing. Well done :smallsmile:

You've done a fantastic job of creating her character in only a few short snippets. While you haven't come right out and said it, the reader knows that obviously the original Deathwind took Natalia, and to get away from him in desperation, she made some sort of deal with this Hearteater character (brillant name by the way, gave me the creeps), and he's now come to collect. I can tell that she's done things she's not proud of, but is fairly well convinced she can't do anything about that now. You've captured a sense of hopelessness very well.

And I love the last line of the second snippet. I can just hear a screeching voice in my head - making me think of Heath Ledger's version of The Joker... creeeeepy.

I'd love to see your latest Varen snippet from Natalia's point of view (the one where he finds her without her eyes and insists they can make things right again).

You're breaking my heart here... well done.

big teej
2010-10-18, 10:06 AM
for starters, I am loving the Varen and Natali snippets

... even if they make me want to stop DMing and go back to playing...


also, lady moreta, the last one was an excellent read.


are we now bringing snippets from every system? or are we still trying to stick to dnd?

darkpuppy
2010-10-18, 08:36 PM
Okay, back again, deciding to write a bit more of a serious one... Kinda rare for me, as when I kill games, they die in the most hilarious and glorious manner possible. This is from an All Flesh Must Be Eaten game...


Two Sides
or Different Kinds of Madness

I am Michael Twofeathers, and the spirits guide my path. Over the past weeks, I have seen the Manitou rage across the plains, through the cities, destroying all before them, devouring the living and breaking the bonds of tribes. But the Great Spirits spoke to me, telling me of my part to play. Like Wolf, I must fight with honour. Like Raven, I will trick my enemies for the good of the only tribe I have. Colour. Creed. None of it matters. We must all fight the Manitou... or die.

Horse, in his strength and wisdom, granted me skill with one of his children. Before these dark days, I had never ridden. "Dumb Casino Indian", they would say, unaware of my faith, laughing at me. I chuckle a little, as the joke is on them. Their "God" has not helped them, but the Spirits will. Through me.

It is as I ride into the nearest settlement that I notice them. Four people, one, yet not one. They need guidance, and they are besieged by the bodies of the Manitou. I gently shift the reins, and my friend rides in, ready to help.

But one has the claws of the Manitou deep within his soul. He sees me, this strangely clad man, and his sword swings out, not to defend his fellow man, but to strike at me, my horse. My friend whinnies in pain, falls. And I fall with it. The man sneers at me, and I am in pain. But there is no time for pain, no time for dealing with this man. These others need me. I call to the spirits.

And this time, they answer. A great song springs from my lips, as from many tongues, and it bolsters all. My limbs ripple with the strength of Buffalo, and I strike out. Soon, it is over. For now. I turn to the rest, and introduce myself. The swordsman sneers, and mocks my ways. "What do we need some nutter for?" he asks. I look him up and down.

"Who are you that mocks the spirits so, and dresses so strangely?" The others nod, for he is indeed strange. He is not dressed in normal clothing, he is dressed in some black cloth, open at the chest, with a headband and tape wrapping his wrists and ankles. I know what he believes himself to be, but this cannot be so, for the ninja died long ago, in another country to this strange white man.

He is trouble, I know it. The Manitou is within his heart, and the proof is not long coming. "Me? I'm an assassin, mate. Master swordsman, and killer for hire, Steve Pierson, at your service."

My heart becomes like the storm clouds of the plains, and my face also. "Why, in the name of the Great Spirits, did you maim my horse? He could have aided you, carried you if you are wounded and a friend to the Spirits! WHY?!?"

He looks evasive, and then grins, the shadow in his soul plain on his face. "I thought you were a threat, mate." Even the others grow incredulous at this, and the thunder in my breast grows further. But it is now a cold rain, for I know his heart now.

"You are mad," I say. "You are mad, and the Manitou is within you."

He just chuckles.

"Yeah? Well, least I'm not the nutter riding around with a head-dress and no shirt!"

I turn my back on him. "If I am also mad, far better my side of the river than yours."

Yeah, that was a bad experience all round. The player in question was in a tizzy with me, and metagamed to hell, bringing his grudge in game. The fact I'd questioned his character, a super-munchkin with a background that would have fit better in a DCU game than a zombie apocalypse, was what set it all off. As you might expect, the game died shortly thereafter... :smalleek:

Lady Moreta
2010-10-18, 09:44 PM
also, lady moreta, the last one was an excellent read.

are we now bringing snippets from every system? or are we still trying to stick to dnd?

Thank you :smallsmile:

I see no reason to stick with just D&D. Werekat posted a neat little vampire story earlier. Fire away :smallsmile: I only stick with D&D because it's the only system I've used.



Okay, back again, deciding to write a bit more of a serious one... Kinda rare for me, as when I kill games, they die in the most hilarious and glorious manner possible. This is from an All Flesh Must Be Eaten game...

Wow, this was fantastic! Have you studied Native American culture at all? because it sounds like you've really done your research. Very believable. We really get into his head despite the lack of dialogue. Very well done :smallsmile:

big teej
2010-10-18, 10:01 PM
Thank you :smallsmile:

I see no reason to stick with just D&D. Werekat posted a neat little vampire story earlier. Fire away :smallsmile: I only stick with D&D because it's the only system I've used.




you're welcome,

in that case, I think the next one will be the origin story for a character I made in phoenix. (superhero expansion to d20 modern)

darkpuppy
2010-10-18, 10:36 PM
Wow, this was fantastic! Have you studied Native American culture at all? because it sounds like you've really done your research. Very believable. We really get into his head despite the lack of dialogue. Very well done :smallsmile:

Why, thank you! And yes, I've always been interested in both comparative theology, looking at other belief systems and cultures, that sort of thing. To be honest, without starting on character backstories, I'm sort of running out, because, while there were very many memorable moments in my life'o'gaming, most of these were the rather spectacular ways I'd crash and burn the campaigns I ran, such as making a large portion of the Marsh of Chelimber explode... my personal rule is, when people lose interest in a campaign (and my last few groups have had the attention spans of gnats, sadly), might as well go with a bang!

Lady Moreta
2010-10-18, 11:04 PM
Why, thank you! And yes, I've always been interested in both comparative theology, looking at other belief systems and cultures, that sort of thing. To be honest, without starting on character backstories, I'm sort of running out, because, while there were very many memorable moments in my life'o'gaming, most of these were the rather spectacular ways I'd crash and burn the campaigns I ran, such as making a large portion of the Marsh of Chelimber explode... my personal rule is, when people lose interest in a campaign (and my last few groups have had the attention spans of gnats, sadly), might as well go with a bang!

Sounds like fun :smallbiggrin: I'd be interested in the explosive Marsh of Chelimbor.

And backstories are always good :smallsmile: I think half of the stuff I've posted thus far has been backstory for one character or another.

darkpuppy
2010-10-18, 11:48 PM
Heh, not much to tell, and it was a somewhat nonsensical way to end things anyways... basically, black dragon (or was it red?) mullers party after eating a caravan of smokepowder (yes, an entire caravan of the stuff), one of my players begs for a final shot off, he rolls a nat 20, fireball goes down said dragon's throat, blows about 5 or 10 square miles of the Marsh of Chelimber to smithereens.

As to backstories, I'll see if there's any good ones, but I may mostly be doing stories on 'the characters that never ran', people who, for better or worse, I wanted to play or run, and they never got that chance... like Alethor the Well Travelled (known to everyone else as "Alethor the Testy")

cheese monster
2010-10-18, 11:57 PM
i like how you converted D&D in to a story it makes it much more interesting

Machuchang
2010-10-19, 12:14 AM
Two Sides
or Different Kinds of Madness

Dude, amazing! I love Michael Twofeathers! I've always been a sucker for Native American lore, and the way you conveyed his beliefs, his sense of compassion, and his honorable personality in so few words is nothing short of fantastic!


for starters, I am loving the Varen and Natali snippets

... even if they make me want to stop DMing and go back to playing...

Thanks a lot! But don't forget, the DM makes these stories happen in the first place.:smallbiggrin:


Awwwwww :smallredface: (I am using that word way too much lately).

Means I'm doing something right.:smallwink:




Wow. Just wow.

You have an incredibly ability to get into the heads of your characters. No mean feat when they're so very different. I loved seeing and hearing from Natalia's point of view. You've managed to make the tone completely different - you can tell they're different people, because they really sound different in writing. Well done :smallsmile:

You've done a fantastic job of creating her character in only a few short snippets. While you haven't come right out and said it, the reader knows that obviously the original Deathwind took Natalia, and to get away from him in desperation, she made some sort of deal with this Hearteater character (brillant name by the way, gave me the creeps), and he's now come to collect. I can tell that she's done things she's not proud of, but is fairly well convinced she can't do anything about that now. You've captured a sense of hopelessness very well.

Thank you so much. I'm pretty much at a loss for words here.:smallredface: It's just really good to hear that I managed to actually convey everything that I wanted to.


I'd love to see your latest Varen snippet from Natalia's point of view (the one where he finds her without her eyes and insists they can make things right again).


I'd be happy to oblige.:smallwink:


Step by Step
(or No Comic Relief Title Here)

With a scream, I awoke, only to find more blackness. How could I possibly still be alive?

“Tali! Tali, it’s me!”

“Varen…?” Oh gods. Not him again! But I still wasn’t sure whether this was a good or a bad thing. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about being killed or left for dead again. But gods! I didn’t want to have to explain anything to him. And he would keep asking until he knew what was going on. I knew him that well at least. But he wouldn’t understand. He was always just too gods damned sensitive.

No, Varen was far worse than death in the wilderness. I would rather deal with death than him now. By all rights, my life should have ended here. I had failed in my duty.

“You should have just let me die…” I moaned. That at least, was true. I had failed. There was no longer a chance for me to reclaim what I had had with the Crownbreakers, now that the Hearteater had set them all against me. Without me in their numbers, the country would fall into chaos, just as Father said it would. The justification for my hideous actions was gone. All those innocents had died for nothing. I had no excuses. I had no reason to live anymore.

“Tali, please,” He was begging now. How I hated to hear that. “Tell me what happened. Why were you imitating the Deathwind? Were you leading them? What is going on?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” I coughed. “Besides, it doesn’t make a difference anymore…” Why couldn’t he have given up?

“Tali,” he pleaded. “I need to know. For three years, I have been searching for you, only to find this. Please…”

“Three years?” I couldn‘t help but laugh, imagining his earnest expression. I had known he had been searching for me, but for that long? Ever since we had last seen each other…

“Three years? You’re an idiot. You should have just given up on me…”

“I could never give up on you,”

Of course he would say that. He didn’t really know everything that I had done up until now. He remained blissful in his ignorance, and chose to see me as the same person he had known all those years ago.

“We’ll see,” I said bitterly.

“You really want to know what happened? I led them. I killed the Deathwind and took his place. I’ve been behind it all. I was your enemy,” That wasn’t what I meant to say! I was going to tell him the real story. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I just could not bring myself to tell him the whole truth. Sure, everything I had said was true, but he already knew those things. Why could I not just turn him away for good? I should hate him right now! I had sacrificed everything for him, knowingly or not. The Crownbreakers, the Plan, a better world…He had ruined everything! I had to hate him!



But I just couldn’t.


“Just end it,” I groaned. I was too conflicted, too frustrated, too confused. I wanted it all to just end. This would be my penance. I felt tears begin to fall from my empty eyes.

I was met with nothing but silence. Though I could not see him, I could feel his eyes boring into me.

“No,” he said. “If what you say is true, then there are crimes that you must answer for. But I will not be the one to condemn you. There are ways that you can right the wrongs you have committed, and I refuse to believe that there is no good left in you,” He sounded so convinced too, I just had to laugh again.

“You really think you can redeem me?” I chuckled incredulously. “You’re an idiot,” He couldn’t really believe that, could he? What was wrong with him? I was beyond saving!

Or was I? I had done many things I wasn’t proud of as the Deathwind. I had made far too many mistakes, ended far too many lives. Forever, I had been blind. Blind to my mistakes, blind to the horrors of my actions, blind to the Crownbreakers’ true feelings, blind to Father's motives, blind to Varen… and now physically blind as well. How fitting. Perhaps this was my penance. Perhaps, this was my chance to finally do what I had wanted to accomplish all along. I could still change the world, just from a different side.

Gods damn him. His optimism was contagious.

I felt myself being lifted to my feet. Gently, Varen slung my arm over his shoulder and held my side. At the very least I would always have his support, whether I wanted it or not. I found myself smiling for what seemed like the first time in ages.

“Alright,” I said, as I felt myself being overtaken by a strange sensation I hadn’t felt in years. Hope.

“Where do we start?”


He had finally found what he been searching for. His quest was now over, but mine was just beginning. Step by step by step, we were finally able to move forward.

But first, both Father and the Emperor had some explaining to do...

Lady Moreta
2010-10-19, 12:14 AM
As to backstories, I'll see if there's any good ones, but I may mostly be doing stories on 'the characters that never ran', people who, for better or worse, I wanted to play or run, and they never got that chance... like Alethor the Well Travelled (known to everyone else as "Alethor the Testy")

Sounds good :smallsmile: I have a couple of character concepts up my sleeve I haven't had a chance to play with yet as well. But I have too many ideas for my current characters to write. Must continue on with the one I currently have...


i like how you converted D&D in to a story it makes it much more interesting

That's the plan :smallsmile: feel free to join in :smallsmile:

big teej
2010-10-19, 10:05 AM
I'm suffering from indecision.....

I don't know who to write about next!!!

Imperial guardsman?
"boulder"
"blacklist"
something else from Roche?
Cog?
Sohn?
-grumbling ranting about other characters-
grok?
arg!!!


-indecision-

Lady Moreta
2010-10-19, 09:24 PM
But first, both Father and the Emperor had some explaining to do...


I want to know who her father is. And what the real story is. Well done :smallbiggrin:


I'm suffering from indecision.....

I don't know who to write about next!!!

Imperial guardsman?


I vote for Imperial guardsman. Presuming it's Star Wars related?

Werekat
2010-10-20, 07:11 AM
Sorry about the sudden disappearance - offline stuff got me as well. I'll comment on the individual stuff as soon as I can (might be a little slow). Right now I just have to say that Varen and Natalia are awesome, and beautifully different.

And, Darkpuppy? I utterly admire your skill at making a roleplaying experience out of bad out-of-character stuff. It's an acquired skill, and one that takes a lot of patience. I really liked what you wrote, as well. I'll comment more in detail in the evening, I hope!

In good news, I finally finished the snippet from two weeks ago. So here's Bashira being a bit more serious.


We really shouldn't have done that,
or
Consequences of "kick in the door" style of play

"So, Bashira," Cris says thoughtfully. "What are you going to do with that bow of yours?"

"Who, me?" I smile in glee. "Go see the look on the shopkeeper's face. It'll be priceless. AND it should pay me for a new bow."

"I want to see it." He says decisively.

"I'll keep you company, as well." Says Hasam.

"Be my guests."

And within a half-hour, we walk into the weaponry shop.

"Hello, good sir!" I chirp as joyfully as possible. "Would you remember that bow you sold me a couple of days ago?"

"Hello, m'lady." He replies. "Certainly, what is?..!"

Because I'd just dumped the little bits of bone onto his table.

"But... How did... That's... That was... A BONE BOW!" He sputters, and I wait for him to get his picture of the world together. "I'll... Ok, I'll throw in a fix for free... Just tell me, WHAT DID YOU DO WITH IT!"

"I shot from it." I say coolly. "Maybe you have something for someone with more strength?"

"That's the best.. That can be. I'll fix it for free, though. You really didn't do anything else with it?"

"Nope."

"O-ok... Come back tomorrow, I'll see what I can do."

"Tha-ank you, my good man." I smile and walk out.

Cris and Hasam follow me, grinning. I can't help it - so am I.

"See? Priceless, absolutely priceless."

The boys nod their heads in agreement.

"Ok, guys, it's been fun, but I'd better go and cash in on my wine. So I'll be taking that belt now."

Cris hands it over. The thing looks ridiculous, too wide, and with a sky blue bow tightly-fitting over the butt of the wearer. Doesn't combine with my favorite reds and golds at all well, much less with Cris's sleek and imposing ranger outfit. But, hey - a deal's a deal.

Anyway, anyone competent enough to recognize this for what it is will not give a hoot about the colors. They will care how much it costs, though. I almost want a robber or two to try and hold me up!

But, nah, no such luck. In the time I reach the "Fair Wind" - the usual watering hole for all martial artists of the city of Zarakat, its building made from the hull of a crashed flying ship - I didn't get even one lousy robber. And no ninjas wanting to take revenge for their embarrassment. Pansies.

So I just come in, and dive into the limelight. Judging from the glances people give me, more than half of the people here know about my and Samir's little bet. But they're quiet so far, waiting for Samir to make an announcement.

And there's my martial artist, sitting in a corner.
I take the spot across from him and smile.

"Mission accomplished."

"Well, what can I say?" Samir grins and spreads his hands. "Barkeep! A bottle of your best wine! I lost." The bar, which had quieted down a bit with my entrance, is again full of sound. And more than a few glances come our way. Ah, glory, how wonderful it is to have ya!

"I really didn't think you'd succeed, though." He says.

"Well, I wasn't really alone," I say, watching him carefully. "I did have a friend or two with me."

"Ah, so you couldn't do it alone, then?" Nah, I'll get my wine. The man's too damn pleased his rivals got what was coming to 'em.

"C'mon, pal! I have friends with itchy hands, and where there's fun to be had, they'll be there!"

"Oh, whatever." He shrugs and smiles. "I suppose we didn't agree anything about that."

"Yeah," I nod, "And, y'know, your master might have taught you this teeny little thing called strategy? Then you might recognize what I did."

Much as I hate to admit it, were I alone, I would've been in trouble. They were kids, really, those ninjas, but kids quite able to gang up and kick
the snot out of one warrior, even one of my ability.

"So, anyway," And Samir gets this mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I want details!"

"Well, first detail you might want, is that we didn't take their relic. It was kinda guarded by a Great Shadow. We would've all died there, regardless."

He nods. "Sure, messing with relics ain't a smart thing. That's why I warned ya. And, anyway - just don't tell anyone - I couldn't face that thing either."

"Well, neither could we, so I won't tell if you don't." I wink.

"Deal!" He agrees quickly.

"Anyway, second detail you might really want, is that the first rumor on the city guard's list this morning is that some ninjas went running to the guard for help with a robbery during the night."

"Wait, WHAT?" The martial artist blurts out. Obviously he thought higher of his rivals. Well, the world can know the naked truth now!

"Oh, you heard me well the first time!" I say loudly. "Your Black Hand kids went running to the Guard for help!"

Samir bursts out laughing. So does the rest of the tavern.

And two embarrassed boys, whom I did not notice earlier, dressed in ninja black, faces utterly flushed, get up and sprint out of the tavern.

"You're kidding!" Samir's laughing so hard that he's nearly falling off his chair. "I can't wait to see the faces of those who trained that night! They'll never live it down!"

And somehow I can't really laugh along anymore. I heard the two schools were deadly rivals. Where'd they get the celestial permission to drink in one tavern?

I've always thought "deadly rivals" meant "kill on sight." I've been a mercenary for the better part of my life. It's pretty obvious that killing's no big deal for me.

And suddenly now I start to get that maybe, just maybe, we weren't supposed to kill anyone. Grand robbery, sure. But not killing, 'cause what they really wanted was to just to tweak one another's nose. For a value of a couple dozen thousand gold, sure, but not really more.

Oops. I'd better keep that little detail to myself.

Stupid kids, couldn't they have clarified this before the job? I'm a mercenary, not a babysitter!

But the barkeep brings us our wine, and we idle the night away, me the heroine of the day. I don't tell a soul about the dead kid ninja, though. I wasn't the one who killed him, but I did bring in the man who pulled the bowstring.

With my newfound money, I buy another bottle of the good wine - take it back to my comrades, they deserved it. The bottle Samir owed me I split with him - he was the one who gave me such a good place to show off. I am anything but unfair, after all!

But yeah, then again, what we did to that kid wasn't really fair.

So I keep on looking good at the party - you gotta work on that image, y'know? What would I look like if I got worried about it then and there? - but as soon as I get home - well, maybe after a few hours of sleep - I go see Cris and Hasam.

They've been discussing the same, Hasam - by far the kindest of our little mercenary outfit - chiding Cris for that stunt of his. Once I join him, and explain what I learned in the evening, Cris starts to get it, too.

"Yeah, that wasn't pretty. But what do you want me to do?" He says sourly. "It's not like we can help anything at this point."

"Sure we can!" I say brightly. "They can't have buried him yet, and if they did, we can always dig him up."

"Your point being?"

"That Raise Dead ain't that expensive. We pitch in - or at least I will - and suddenly bam, we get one kid alive. We didn't kill all of them, we can afford this!"

The look of relief on Hasam's face is just so huge, I have to bite my tongue not to comment.

"That's still expensive." Cris says.

"You can stay out if you want."

He sighs. "Oh, fine. I suppose that belt..."

"...here it is, by the way..."

"...Thanks. It's worth a lot more, anyway. I'm in. But how do we find them?"

"That's easy!" I laugh. "We ask Samir. It looks like they're pretty friendly when not screwing each other over for money."

"Ok, fine." Cris gets up. "If we're decided, no reason to put it off."

A half an hour later, we're standing before the gates of the Celestial Sword School, and asking some kid to fetch Samir, 'cause it's urgent.

He comes out, with telltale signs of yesterday's fun on his face, smiling at me. But his smile fades as he sees our grim faces.

"We gotta talk." I say. "In private. Can we come in?"

"My master's there." He says.

"Then come out."

"Can't, really. But I can do this," and he tells the kid to go and buy himself some lunch, and allows us just withing the gates. "So, what's up?"

"There was kind of an accident during that fight with your Black Hand guys." I begin. "Anyway, one of them's dead."

"You're kidding." He says, in a much more hushed tone than yesterday.

"Wish I was." I answer quietly. "But I'm not."

"How could you?"

Hey, pal, less guilt piling, more thinking ahead next time, ok? I feel bad enough as it is, and it wasn't even my kill. But I ignore the question, and cut straight to the remedy.

"Anyway, we think it was a mistake, too. So we've brought money, and if you could give it to his higher-ups..."

"That won't help!" He interrupts, almost in fear.

"Why not? Their school forbids them or something?"

Samir's almost shaking now. "If any trained warriors of their school die - they become shadows! As in undead shadows!"

I almost feel the weight of a heavenly judgement seal on my forehead.

"The - the kind that spawn when they kill something?"

"Right."

I look back at my companions. Hasam's utterly horrified. Cris, apparently, doesn't get it yet. Well, undead aren't his specialty. So I explain.

"We just earned a death penalty."

"And I thought that shot just cost me a couple grand." Cris spits out. "How?"

"Bringing spawning undead into the city." I say. "Whatever a shadow kills also becomes a shadow. And they have to kill. And you can't raise them. You'd need someone from the Emperor's ministers to be able to do that kind of magic."

Now Cris is appropriately horrified. However he steels himself, and says, "So I guess we kill it first, huh?"

I nod. "We have to, or this city'll be overrrun within a couple of days." I turn to Samir. "Any place where it might be hiding?"

"Those same sewers held their base. I'm guessing it's around there."

"We're going, then. Now."

"I'm coming." He says grimly. "It's kind of my fault, too."

"And your master? You're gonna leave him in the dark?"

"I'll tell him once we take care of the threat. It'll probably have me in for a world of hurt." He says evenly. "But we gotta do this."

"You're in. Get your stuff."

darkpuppy
2010-10-20, 07:42 AM
A Legend Begins

I'd like to tell you how a legend began, if I may. It is an odd legend, because it involves normal people, and it is a new legend, because word has not yet spread. But it is a legend nonetheless.

It all began, strangely enough, in an inn. Trite, I know. But reality is not always epic, and sometimes, no matter how trite a tale seems, it can be true. So yes, it began in an inn...

The first pair to arrive in the evening had been two men, remarkable only in that they were so different. The first had laughing eyes in a face seemingly made of stone, his body well muscled, his voice as large as the man himself. A great blade was strapped to his back, and, worn as it was, none doubted he was proficient in its use.

The second? He was, and was not, a man. Technically, he was a man in that he was male, but not a human. He was an elf, thin even for one of his race, his face perpetually downturned, aged before his time by cynicism and anger. His voice was almost theatrical, booming, grandiose. Much more grandiose than the man himself. But what most struck me about this one was that he hailed the goblin barman in, not only its own tongue, but the dialect of its own tribe.

The laughing man seemed unsurprised by this, but another within the inn? He was shocked.

This third man was remarkable. Whipcord thin, his face was heavily scarred, and his one good eye narrowed as he hailed the elf. "Where in the nine hells did you learn Broken Tooth Cant, wizard?"

Oh? I hadn't mentioned this? Yes, the elf was a wizard, and his companion a warrior. The third was a border-walker, one of those who feel uncomfortable in crowds of people, yet happiest within the
dangerous wilds. And he was unhappy. Only prisoners and spies were meant to know the language of the Broken Tooth goblins. But the elf was unfazed. He stared at the border-walker.

"If you must know, you unwashed clod, I know the tongue because it is merely a variation of Snaggle-Beak, a clan I had encountered before."

The clatter of a suddenly overtipped chair was all the warning anyone had, as the border-walker seemed to vanish, and then suddenly appear next to the elf, a knife in his hand at the elf's throat, and his face inches away. The elf looked rather less sure of himself for a moment (did I even hear him
gulp? I cannot be sure), but returned his composure.

"Before you die, point-ears, let me know who decided to insult Jarth Onaxil, Border-Keeper of Hambleton. I'm working on a book about fools, and you fit the bill."

The elf chuckled nastily, his sneer deepening. "Best put yourself in, Jarth Dropped-Breeches, because you have insulted Alethor the Well Travelled, Master of Magic, and - By Mystra, what's that?!?"

Jarth's eyes flicked sideways, not looking backward, but it was enough. A few words in a harsh, grating tongue, a pinch of... something from a pouch on his belt, and the scarred border-walker's eyes rolled back in his head, and
he collapsed to the ground. The laughing man, seeing nothing strange in this, merely popped the chair back up with a flick of his foot, set it straight, and lifted the man into the chair. Then, taking the drinks from the startled bar-goblin, sat in a different chair at the same table, and motioned Alethor to do the same.

"You know, one of those days, that's not going to work."

Alethor continued to sneer into his drink. "Bah. Adventurers, they're all stupid, loutish fools."

"Says the man who spent four days running from the Four-Spears tribe... of kobolds?" The laughing man drained his ale, chuckling as he did so. "That was a sight to see, you-" Alethor purpled.

"-shut up! I'm still sore from those sleep-poisoned darts, thank you very much! Rain, my spellbook getting wet, kobolds... I don't know why I ever agreed to travel with you, you big oaf!"

The laughing man merely chuckled again. "That's Michel to you, Alethor the Testy. And besides, you said you wanted adventure!" He gestured around the inn "And this, my friend, is the start of something grand!"

Alethor muttered as he drank. "Alethor the Well Travelled... It's Alethor the Well Travelled..."

Michel merely grinned. Then, draining his first mug, he gestured for a second. "You never did tell this one how you really learned Broken Tooth Cant, did you?"

Alethor suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Well, I, er... I never really had the chance to, er..."

"...Tell him that you extrapolated it from all those dreadful insults they threw at you, along with the contents of their latrines?"

"Shut UP!"

And so begins the legend, as odd as it is...

Yeah, Alethor the Well Travelled. God, there's a character I'd love to develop! One of my favourite exercises is to make a backdrop for a character from completely random stats, and I can get very attached to the results. Alethor the Well Travelled (known to everyone else as Alethor the Testy) is a smart, but not very wise elf, adolescent, who is in the awkward position of hating adventurers (mostly for their egos), yet wanting to be one (and having much of an ego himself.)

He learned languages from the variety of insults hurled at him when he was forced to flee, is actually a bit of a coward, has a soft spot for the underdog, and is a hardened cynic. It doesn't help that, with a ridiculously low CON (I think it was something like 5), he is genuinely not built for the adventuring life, constantly catching colds, weak to sleep poisons... but he still masochistically goes on, because he genuinely thinks he's smart enough to counter all that... Who knows, if he ever got developed, maybe he would... but he'd still be the grumbling, insulting, cynical being he is in his background, and this story...

EDIT: Thanks, guys and gals. To be honest, my philosophy is that if you can't see the funny side in things, or turn even a piece of metagaming into a good story, you're a bit shafted as a DM. Then again, I've always had bad lucks with groups. The most recent RL group I had seemed to literally fall apart, and everything seemed to be going so well... I kinda miss my days in Bradford Uni Roleplay Society (BURPS), because there, there wasn't nearly the amount of crap that I had to deal with here in Pembs... after all, groups are rare in Pembs (some might say nonexistent)

Still, the Bashira tale was really good, I liked it! It felt a bit awkward to read at first, but as I got deeper into it, I was hooked! You have a gift for implying world details, and I like that! Myself, my specialty is characters. Heck, when you're running WoD (whether oWoD or nWoD), you sorta need to be...

EDIT 2: Michel and Jarth are just characters I created on the fly, though. Can you tell?

Werekat
2010-10-20, 10:18 AM
...A-and I just got a few minutes to write a bit.

Darkpuppy: *nods* True what you say about turning bad gaming into good stories. It's saved me any number of times. Though I prefer having good stories, and am pretty blessed with a good gaming group.

As for the text - on re-reading, I guess I should have put more description into the beginning. I tried to make it read like Bashira kind of telling a joke, but I think I failed at that. :P

As for implying world details - our DM's to thank for those. I'm just describing what he throws at us as Bashira notices it. I also think my specialty to be characters (and I run WoD games, to boot - that makes two of us, funnily enough). Then again, you always think you're good at something when you write, and then people go and notice completely different things.

And Alethor - ye gods, I'd like to meet that wizard in a game! He sounds like a lot of fun! Snarky adolescent elven wizards... Reminds me of a bit of background for Jailin - "...And the instructors at the academy know well why elves under the age of a hundred are almost never taught magic." If you have any other scenes in mind with this guy, I'd like to read more.

As for the others - they sounded like fellow PC's at first, just not developed yet, because of a snippet's time constrain. So, no, I really couldn't tell.

big teej
2010-10-20, 02:18 PM
I want to know who her father is. And what the real story is. Well done :smallbiggrin:



I vote for Imperial guardsman. Presuming it's Star Wars related?

uhm.... no =P
warhammer 40K dark heresy...:smalltongue:

darkpuppy
2010-10-20, 05:28 PM
teej, that sounds good to me, after Dan Abnett, the Imperial Guard will never be the same to me again!

big teej
2010-10-20, 06:21 PM
teej, that sounds good to me, after Dan Abnett, the Imperial Guard will never be the same to me again!

well said.

(I'm still waiting for the next gaunt's ghosts)
(also... I miss Bragg.)

very well, the imperial guardsman it is!!!

Cerlis
2010-10-20, 09:55 PM
Sorry about the sudden disappearance - offline stuff got me as well. I'll comment on the individual stuff as soon as I can (might be a little slow). Right now I just have to say that Varen and Natalia are awesome, and beautifully different.

And, Darkpuppy? I utterly admire your skill at making a roleplaying experience out of bad out-of-character stuff. It's an acquired skill, and one that takes a lot of patience. I really liked what you wrote, as well. I'll comment more in detail in the evening, I hope!

In good news, I finally finished the snippet from two weeks ago. So here's Bashira being a bit more serious.


We really shouldn't have done that,
or
Consequences of "kick in the door" style of play

"So, Bashira," Cris says thoughtfully. "What are you going to do with that bow of yours?"

"Who, me?" I smile in glee. "Go see the look on the shopkeeper's face. It'll be priceless. AND it should pay me for a new bow."

"I want to see it." He says decisively.

"I'll keep you company, as well." Says Hasam.

"Be my guests."

And within a half-hour, we walk into the weaponry shop.

"Hello, good sir!" I chirp as joyfully as possible. "Would you remember that bow you sold me a couple of days ago?"

"Hello, m'lady." He replies. "Certainly, what is?..!"

Because I'd just dumped the little bits of bone onto his table.

"But... How did... That's... That was... A BONE BOW!" He sputters, and I wait for him to get his picture of the world together. "I'll... Ok, I'll throw in a fix for free... Just tell me, WHAT DID YOU DO WITH IT!"

"I shot from it." I say coolly. "Maybe you have something for someone with more strength?"

"That's the best.. That can be. I'll fix it for free, though. You really didn't do anything else with it?"

"Nope."

"O-ok... Come back tomorrow, I'll see what I can do."

"Tha-ank you, my good man." I smile and walk out.

Cris and Hasam follow me, grinning. I can't help it - so am I.

"See? Priceless, absolutely priceless."

The boys nod their heads in agreement.

"Ok, guys, it's been fun, but I'd better go and cash in on my wine. So I'll be taking that belt now."

Cris hands it over. The thing looks ridiculous, too wide, and with a sky blue bow tightly-fitting over the butt of the wearer. Doesn't combine with my favorite reds and golds at all well, much less with Cris's sleek and imposing ranger outfit. But, hey - a deal's a deal.

Anyway, anyone competent enough to recognize this for what it is will not give a hoot about the colors. They will care how much it costs, though. I almost want a robber or two to try and hold me up!

But, nah, no such luck. In the time I reach the "Fair Wind" - the usual watering hole for all martial artists of the city of Zarakat, its building made from the hull of a crashed flying ship - I didn't get even one lousy robber. And no ninjas wanting to take revenge for their embarrassment. Pansies.

So I just come in, and dive into the limelight. Judging from the glances people give me, more than half of the people here know about my and Samir's little bet. But they're quiet so far, waiting for Samir to make an announcement.

And there's my martial artist, sitting in a corner.
I take the spot across from him and smile.

"Mission accomplished."

"Well, what can I say?" Samir grins and spreads his hands. "Barkeep! A bottle of your best wine! I lost." The bar, which had quieted down a bit with my entrance, is again full of sound. And more than a few glances come our way. Ah, glory, how wonderful it is to have ya!

"I really didn't think you'd succeed, though." He says.

"Well, I wasn't really alone," I say, watching him carefully. "I did have a friend or two with me."

"Ah, so you couldn't do it alone, then?" Nah, I'll get my wine. The man's too damn pleased his rivals got what was coming to 'em.

"C'mon, pal! I have friends with itchy hands, and where there's fun to be had, they'll be there!"

"Oh, whatever." He shrugs and smiles. "I suppose we didn't agree anything about that."

"Yeah," I nod, "And, y'know, your master might have taught you this teeny little thing called strategy? Then you might recognize what I did."

Much as I hate to admit it, were I alone, I would've been in trouble. They were kids, really, those ninjas, but kids quite able to gang up and kick
the snot out of one warrior, even one of my ability.

"So, anyway," And Samir gets this mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I want details!"

"Well, first detail you might want, is that we didn't take their relic. It was kinda guarded by a Great Shadow. We would've all died there, regardless."

He nods. "Sure, messing with relics ain't a smart thing. That's why I warned ya. And, anyway - just don't tell anyone - I couldn't face that thing either."

"Well, neither could we, so I won't tell if you don't." I wink.

"Deal!" He agrees quickly.

"Anyway, second detail you might really want, is that the first rumor on the city guard's list this morning is that some ninjas went running to the guard for help with a robbery during the night."

"Wait, WHAT?" The martial artist blurts out. Obviously he thought higher of his rivals. Well, the world can know the naked truth now!

"Oh, you heard me well the first time!" I say loudly. "Your Black Hand kids went running to the Guard for help!"

Samir bursts out laughing. So does the rest of the tavern.

And two embarrassed boys, whom I did not notice earlier, dressed in ninja black, faces utterly flushed, get up and sprint out of the tavern.

"You're kidding!" Samir's laughing so hard that he's nearly falling off his chair. "I can't wait to see the faces of those who trained that night! They'll never live it down!"

And somehow I can't really laugh along anymore. I heard the two schools were deadly rivals. Where'd they get the celestial permission to drink in one tavern?

I've always thought "deadly rivals" meant "kill on sight." I've been a mercenary for the better part of my life. It's pretty obvious that killing's no big deal for me.

And suddenly now I start to get that maybe, just maybe, we weren't supposed to kill anyone. Grand robbery, sure. But not killing, 'cause what they really wanted was to just to tweak one another's nose. For a value of a couple dozen thousand gold, sure, but not really more.

Oops. I'd better keep that little detail to myself.

Stupid kids, couldn't they have clarified this before the job? I'm a mercenary, not a babysitter!

But the barkeep brings us our wine, and we idle the night away, me the heroine of the day. I don't tell a soul about the dead kid ninja, though. I wasn't the one who killed him, but I did bring in the man who pulled the bowstring.

With my newfound money, I buy another bottle of the good wine - take it back to my comrades, they deserved it. The bottle Samir owed me I split with him - he was the one who gave me such a good place to show off. I am anything but unfair, after all!

But yeah, then again, what we did to that kid wasn't really fair.

So I keep on looking good at the party - you gotta work on that image, y'know? What would I look like if I got worried about it then and there? - but as soon as I get home - well, maybe after a few hours of sleep - I go see Cris and Hasam.

They've been discussing the same, Hasam - by far the kindest of our little mercenary outfit - chiding Cris for that stunt of his. Once I join him, and explain what I learned in the evening, Cris starts to get it, too.

"Yeah, that wasn't pretty. But what do you want me to do?" He says sourly. "It's not like we can help anything at this point."

"Sure we can!" I say brightly. "They can't have buried him yet, and if they did, we can always dig him up."

"Your point being?"

"That Raise Dead ain't that expensive. We pitch in - or at least I will - and suddenly bam, we get one kid alive. We didn't kill all of them, we can afford this!"

The look of relief on Hasam's face is just so huge, I have to bite my tongue not to comment.

"That's still expensive." Cris says.

"You can stay out if you want."

He sighs. "Oh, fine. I suppose that belt..."

"...here it is, by the way..."

"...Thanks. It's worth a lot more, anyway. I'm in. But how do we find them?"

"That's easy!" I laugh. "We ask Samir. It looks like they're pretty friendly when not screwing each other over for money."

"Ok, fine." Cris gets up. "If we're decided, no reason to put it off."

A half an hour later, we're standing before the gates of the Celestial Sword School, and asking some kid to fetch Samir, 'cause it's urgent.

He comes out, with telltale signs of yesterday's fun on his face, smiling at me. But his smile fades as he sees our grim faces.

"We gotta talk." I say. "In private. Can we come in?"

"My master's there." He says.

"Then come out."

"Can't, really. But I can do this," and he tells the kid to go and buy himself some lunch, and allows us just withing the gates. "So, what's up?"

"There was kind of an accident during that fight with your Black Hand guys." I begin. "Anyway, one of them's dead."

"You're kidding." He says, in a much more hushed tone than yesterday.

"Wish I was." I answer quietly. "But I'm not."

"How could you?"

Hey, pal, less guilt piling, more thinking ahead next time, ok? I feel bad enough as it is, and it wasn't even my kill. But I ignore the question, and cut straight to the remedy.

"Anyway, we think it was a mistake, too. So we've brought money, and if you could give it to his higher-ups..."

"That won't help!" He interrupts, almost in fear.

"Why not? Their school forbids them or something?"

Samir's almost shaking now. "If any trained warriors of their school die - they become shadows! As in undead shadows!"

I almost feel the weight of a heavenly judgement seal on my forehead.

"The - the kind that spawn when they kill something?"

"Right."

I look back at my companions. Hasam's utterly horrified. Cris, apparently, doesn't get it yet. Well, undead aren't his specialty. So I explain.

"We just earned a death penalty."

"And I thought that shot just cost me a couple grand." Cris spits out. "How?"

"Bringing spawning undead into the city." I say. "Whatever a shadow kills also becomes a shadow. And they have to kill. And you can't raise them. You'd need someone from the Emperor's ministers to be able to do that kind of magic."

Now Cris is appropriately horrified. However he steels himself, and says, "So I guess we kill it first, huh?"

I nod. "We have to, or this city'll be overrrun within a couple of days." I turn to Samir. "Any place where it might be hiding?"

"Those same sewers held their base. I'm guessing it's around there."

"We're going, then. Now."

"I'm coming." He says grimly. "It's kind of my fault, too."

"And your master? You're gonna leave him in the dark?"

"I'll tell him once we take care of the threat. It'll probably have me in for a world of hurt." He says evenly. "But we gotta do this."

"You're in. Get your stuff."

(other than the fact that it was hard to tell who was talking) That was really nice. I like how it went from a very casual informal Adventurer's adventuring scenario to realizing a rather nasty horror to fixxing it with a "lets get this done" attitude scenario. Some of it was the DM's plot but I think alot of it was Bashira's cool attitude.

Lady Moreta
2010-10-20, 10:48 PM
We really shouldn't have done that,
or
Consequences of "kick in the door" style of play[/CENTER]

I have to admit, I don't think this one is your best work. I enjoyed it - the shopkeeper gaping at the broken bow was nicely done, but it didn't flow very well to my mind.

I found it difficult to get a feel for what was going on - the ending was great, when they got serious and realised just what the hang they'd done (I'd like to know what idiot training school turns dead members into Shadows though, that's just - so very dumb.)

The part where Bashira is talking to Samir in the tavern felt awkward to me. Especially the part where she talks about having friends along with happy trigger fingers - I'm still not entirely sure what was going on in that scene, or what she was actually talking about. It wasn't until I got to the end that I got a feel for what must have happened. I still enjoyed it, I just don't think it was your best work :smallsmile:


It all began, strangely enough, in an inn. Trite, I know. But reality is not always epic, and sometimes, no matter how trite a tale seems, it can be true. So yes, it began in an inn...

Heeheehee, well done :smallbiggrin:


"Before you die, point-ears, let me know who decided to insult Jarth Onaxil, Border-Keeper of Hambleton. I'm working on a book about fools, and you fit the bill."

This confused me for a second, I wasn't sure who was talking. I think it was that Jarth came across like a bit of an idiot (low int, perhaps low wis), and then all of a sudden he's talking about writing a book and I got confused. I thought it was perhaps the narrator who had interrupted at first.


he is genuinely not built for the adventuring life, constantly catching colds, weak to sleep poisons...

But... elves don't sleep. Aren't they immune to sleep affects?


EDIT 2: Michel and Jarth are just characters I created on the fly, though. Can you tell?

Nope :smallsmile: I had assumed that Jarth was an NPC, and that Michel was another PC. So well done there.


uhm.... no =P
warhammer 40K dark heresy...:smalltongue:

Awwwww... now I is sad :smallfrown:

I am desperately trying to finish a couple of snippets myself - parts of Lyra's backstory. One is being written longhand, I'll probably finish it tonight when I get home, but may not type it up til later. The other one I'm struggling with. A lot. I'll post it, but I suspect it may need much revision. I hate work. It's stopping me from doing the important things in life :smalltongue:

Lady Moreta
2010-10-21, 02:54 AM
I actually finished something!

Anyway, I'm trying something a little new with this one, so tell me if it doesn't work. I gave up on first person for this one, and yet, I'm not sure it's worked! Also, the small size writing in the [ ] is meant to be background thoughts that aren't being articulated, but are always there in the back of the mind. Please tell me if it doesn't work. The idea popped into my head and I thought I might as well give it a try as not.

So, without further ado and rambling... (also, it's really long)


How Lyra met Ket'Thull
or, Yes Sir, No Sir, Three Bags Full Sir

Lyra took one last look around the crowded marketplace and sighed. Once again her attempts to find an easy mark had gotten her exactly nowhere. Her gaze wandered of its own volition over to the food stalls lining the eastern wall and she sighed again. She had been stealing food from the stalls on a fairly regular basis and the vendors were starting to get suspicious. If she was going to eat, Lyra needed to find a mark and she needed one soon. She was getting hungry. [hungryhungryhungry]

She’d been staring for nearly a minute before she realised what was in front of her.[hungryhungryhungry] The mark she’d been searching for. Coming into the markets from the east, pausing at food stalls obviously looking for something to eat. Lyra came smoothly to her feet and moved away from the doorstep she’d been sitting on. A half-orc was perfect, big, slow and stupid.

Light on her feet and quick, Lyra moved easily through the crowd. Sunlight glinted off the mark’s armour, and the fairly monstrous [hungryhungryhungry] – what was the sword?[hungryhungryhungry] She didn’t bother figuring it out, it wasn’t what she was after, so it wasn’t important. What she was looking for was – [hungryhungryhungry]. Lyra stopped abruptly, letting the crowd swirl around her. Damnit it was hard to concentrate. If this didn’t pay off, she’d have to take her chances with the vendors. But there! The big brute pulled off his gauntlets and attached them to his belt. And shining in the sun was a ring. That would do for starters.

Small and slender, she slipped between two merchant arguing over the price of – something, and came out right near the mark. And there, there was the prize – a small coin pouch, currently in the half-orc’s hands. Patience. Patience. [hungryhungryhungry]

“Hey! Watch it!” a sharp angry voice pierced her revere. Lyra back-pedalled fast, letting the crowd swallow her up and spit her back out behind the half-orc. She swore under her breath. This was getting dangerous, she should give it up. Wait until she had her focus back. Until she could concentrate. But then the pouch went on the belt, next to the gauntlets and the mark’s attention was elsewhere. She’d never have such a chance.

Moving quickly [hungryhungryhungry] she stepped forwards [hungryhungry]. Casual. Casual was the key. Her right hand drifted out and she hitched her pace the barest amount necessary. The manoeuvre should have let her keep right on going, with none the wiser. Instead, she came to an abrupt halt.

She looked up. And up. And up. Dear gods he was massive! The half-orc was looking down at her, quite calmly, her right hand caught firmly in one massive fist.

“Whoops...”

“That is one way of describing the situation” Lyra paled, had she said that out loud? Ignoring that for a moment, she focused on the mark. His voice was deep, and oddly for a – well, a half-orc, rather compelling. A light tug on her wrist

“Just what do you think you were doing?”

Think fast woman, think fast. [hungryhungryhungry]

“I was… uhhh. I-” [hungry]Damn it[hungry]

“Trying to steal from me?” he sounded more amused than angry, probably because he was fast enough to catch a thief. Damn him.

“No!” Lyra tried for real indignation, and found it – mostly. “I wouldn’t- I was…” Her voice trailed off as the half-orc continued to watch her with that steady, calm, and knowing gaze. She sighed heavily, shoulders drooping. This was not her week. [hungry]Damn it[hungry]Damn it[hungry]Damn it[hungry]

“Oh hell…”

The mark – well, she couldn’t really call him that any more – chuckled. Chuckled? Now that rankled. That hurt. More than your stomach? [hungryhungry] Probably not. The hand around her wrist relaxed slightly, apparently tiny Lyra wasn’t considered much of a threat.

“Now, how bad can things be that you’d try stealing from a paladin?” He sounded more amused than anything else. “We’re not noted for our valuables.”

As soon as the word ‘paladin’ left the half-orc’s lips Lyra stopped listening, tensed and pulled away. Startled the half-orc pulled back. In a match of brute strength, it was no contest.

“Hey!”

The hand around her wrist tightened and Lyra panicked. Forgetting the full plate, she stomped on his foot, swearing when it did more damage to her than him.

“Easy!”

Get away! She swung her free hand, intending to slap him and cause a scene. That hand was also caught and held. Had she been thinking, she would have realised it was a light grip, meant to hold her, but not hurt. Instead she screamed.

Or tried to.

Her left hand went free as the half-orc slapped a beefy hand over her mouth.

“Calm down!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ket’Thull was starting to get confused. He had stopped a young thief, nothing more. And she was wildly overreacting. He had to stop her before she attracted attention. He couldn’t afford the delay, his mission was too vital.

Moving faster than his bulk suggested, Ket’Thull released the girl’s left hand and clapped his hand over her mouth, cutting off the building scream before she could loose it. He tugged sharply on her wrist, pulling her arm down to her side and pinning it there. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he had to get her quiet.

She kicked him in the shins.

“ENOUGH!” He hissed the word at her, feeling his frustration rise. He glared down at her, fighting the urge to simply throw her over his shoulder and find some quiet corner to give her a stern talking to. It was then he saw her face.

She was terrified.

And not just the guilty fear of someone who, when confronted by a paladin, can’t help but think of all the not-so-nice things they’ve ever done. Not the disgusted fear of those who looked upon his face and saw only the marks of his orcish ancestry. This was real fear.

He let her go.

Still, Ket’Thull wasn’t an idiot. He released her hand, but kept his fingers lightly enclosing her wrist, just in case. It hadn’t really hurt, but he would prefer she not use his shins for target practice again.

“It is all right” he said, pitching his voice to be low and soothing. “I will not hurt you.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hurt you... Lyra jerked back, only to find that the hold on her wrist was gone, or at least relaxed. … not hurt you… not... not. Not hurt you. Her eyes snapped up to the half-orc. He stood over her, doing his best not to tower, and watched her, his eyes strangely – gentle? Well that didn’t make any sense.

She blinked rapidly and uncurled her fingers from the fist they’d formed.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I don’t- I didn’t mean…” Lyra found herself trailing off lamely, unsure of what to say but well aware she could still be in a lot of trouble. She glanced up, surprised by the kindness in the half-orc’s eyes. He let her go completely and simply folded his arms across his (admittedly massive) chest and studied her closely.

“You didn’t mean to steal from me?” He asked sceptically, one eyebrow going up.

“Well, no… I didn’t mean to get caught” there was a sudden pause. Horrified, Lyra clapped her hands over her mouth. The half-orc seemed to find it rather funny, and he burst out laughing.

“Well, an honest thief” he chuckled. “That’s a new one. All right, little thief, what shall we do with you?”

“You could just let me go” Lyra turned her face up towards him, attempting to look sweet, innocent, and utterly adorable. It worked. About half the times she tried it. He kept laughing. That was getting rather annoying.

“I don’t think so, little thief.” He peered down at her and smiled. “I don’t think you’re really a bad person. Perhaps it would be best if you travelled with me for a time. Yes, that should keep you out of trouble admirably.” He leaned back, beaming, clearly pleased with himself. Lyra couldn’t believe her ears. It was time to take more – drastic – action.

“And exactly what sort of mission – quest… err, thing(?) would a paladin be on that requires a thief?” Her tone was a both pert and cynical, but that was simply a blind. To distract him from what the fingers of her left hand were busy doing. Lyra had spotted some of the young street kids hovering at the edges of the market. Hoping, as they always did, that Lyra would have some bounty to share with them. Quickly, she signalled for a diversion. The quick pattering of feet told her they were coming.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She was funny, he’d give her that. And she raised a good point – what sort of mission would a paladin be on that would need the services of a self-confessed thief? He couldn’t exactly tell her the truth about his mission, but he found himself strangely reluctant to just leave her behind. She was afraid of paladins – he’d be lying if he didn’t acknowledge that interested him. He would like to know why. Would like to see if he could change her mind. She was a thief – he felt it his duty to put a stop to that. So why didn’t he just turn her over to the authorities? That would be the most logical, and simplest answer. So why didn’t he?

Hands slapped at his leg.

Startled Ket’Thull looked down. A small human child had run into him and fallen to the ground. The little girl promptly burst into tears, causing the boy just behind her to run up and start berating Ket’Thull in a shrill voice. Another small boy joined them, slapping ineffectually at his legs.

The young woman moved.

She was fast, he would give her that. One sharp tug, and she yanked her hand free from his loosened grip. She twisted to one side and darted past him, affording him a fleeting glance of black hair as she ran.

Ket’Thull smiled.

The big half-orc moved fast. Planting one foot, he pivoted around and got in her way. He grabbed her by the shoulders and held her firmly in place.

“You are going to be trouble” he sighed, wondering briefly at his attitude, insisting that she come with him. Ket’Thull looked down at his captive; she stood quietly in his grasp, not that he trusted that seeming compliance, not any more. Blue eyes looked up and regarded him silently, she seemed both exasperated and resigned.

“Why are you so determined to get away from me?” Ket’Thull asked finally.” I’ve already told you I won’t hurt you.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

[hungryhungryhungry] Damn it. Lyra would have sworn aloud if she’d thought it would make any difference. Stung by their failure, the children had fled. She didn’t blame them. This city wasn’t easy on the little ones of the street. And she was seriously having trouble thinking. It should never have taken this long to talk her way out of a situation. And stumbling? Never. [hungryhungryhungry] The paladin clearly hadn’t noticed, otherwise he probably would have said something about it by now. He seemed fond of the sound of his voice. Lyra was tired[hungryhungryhungry]and so very hungry. She wasn’t sure she had the energy to argue too much longer.

“I believe you” she said finally. “But in my experience being caught means only one thing. Trouble.”

“I have no intention of handing you over to the authorities.” Lyra’s head snapped up and she gaped at him. He seemed just as surprised as she was.

“You aren’t?” She asked incredulously[hungry], taking a step back so she could look at his face without craning her neck. It turned out to be a mistake. Hunger[hungry]it seemed, was catching up with her. Lyra staggered, as her knees gave way and her feet slid on the dusty ground. Before she could hit the ground, two arms went around her and she discovered the half-orc had caught her. He stepped closer and held her upright til she found her feet again, then immediately stepped back. He seemed to have realised constantly titling her head back was giving her a headache. Or perhaps that was the hunger.

He was watching her again, with those eyes that saw more than she’d like.

“How long has it been since you last ate?” He asked finally. Damn. Did it really show that much?

“A while…” Lyra muttered, unwilling to admit to the truth. The half-orc snorted, his breath stirring her hair, and she realised he was just as frustrated with the situation as she was. “About three days” she admitted.

He walked away. Startled, Lyra made no attempt to run. Instead she gaped at him as he marched to the nearest food vendor, spoke a few words and made the music of coins changing hands. He marched straight back and placed something into her hands. A loaf of bread. Lyra stared at it dumbfounded.

She blinked at the load, then tilted her head and blinked a couple of times at her benefactor. Finally she dropped her head and whispered

“Thank you.”

She turned around and whistled softly. Without warning, the three youngsters reappeared, looking up at her with wide eyes and eager hands. Smiling, Lyra dropped the loaf into the hands of the girl, who beamed up at her.

“Wha’ ab’t you?” the older of the two boys asked, his mouth already full of bread. Lyra grinned down at him, taking the loaf back, she pulled off one small piece and popped it into her mouth.

“That’ll take care of me” she said. “Go, eat. And stay out of trouble!”

She turned back to the half-orc, feeling suddenly self-conscious as she squinted up at him. He was watching her with surprise on his face.

“I learned that from my first guild” she murmured. “Anything that sparkled or shone we could handle as we saw fit. But food was first for those who can’t feed themselves.” Her expression said she expected him to make fun of her. Such a response was the farthest thing from his mind.

“You have a good heart little thief” he said finally. He found himself wondering if it would be entirely ethical to use his sight to find if she were truly good. His instincts told him that she was, but – well, even the evil and depraved looked after their own – in a way.

“I’d say thank you, but that won’t really help me much” Lyra replied. “Now that you know I’m not completely evil, perhaps we can come to some sort of agreement. You don’t turn me in, and I will – behave myself.”

“No, I don’t think so” his voice was quiet, and almost pensive, but there was no mistaking the unmovable quality. “I think you should come with me. There is good in you, you simply need to find the right path.”

“And you don’t think I have that path already?” He burst out laughing

“Obviously not little thief!” Ket’Thull chortled. He stepped forwards again, crowding her space, and well aware of the fear that flashed through her eyes before she got her expression back under control. A part of him felt guilty for deliberately intimidating her, but he was convinced this was the best option.

“I won’t turn you into the authorities; but I think I will insist that you come with me. For a time at least.” He looked down, keeping his face impassive. She sighed

“I can see I don’t have much of a choice. Fine… My name is Lyra.”

“And I am Ket’Thull. Now, young Lyra, we have a long way to go. Perhaps we should see about feeding you, since you so kindly gave up your previous meal to the less fortunate.”

“Now that I won’t argue with.”

big teej
2010-10-21, 01:44 PM
I actually finished something!


I have but one complaint.....

now [B]I[B] am hungry.....

didn't help that I read this after coming from a workout and a run... but still

om nom nom nom......

I loved it!:smallbiggrin:

the hungry's didn't detract from it at all in my opinoin, it really hit home that this girl is HUNGRY
and, being rather large in the gut area... I can sympathize with hunger pangs. (curse you hypoglycemia!)

...hungryhungryhungryhungry

Lady Moreta
2010-10-21, 08:51 PM
I have but one complaint.....

now [B]I[B] am hungry.....

I loved it!:smallbiggrin:

the hungry's didn't detract from it at all in my opinoin, it really hit home that this girl is HUNGRY
and, being rather large in the gut area... I can sympathize with hunger pangs. (curse you hypoglycemia!)

...hungryhungryhungryhungry

Thank you :smallsmile: I really wasn't sure it would work, but I wanted to try it.

And I'm sorry I made you hungry!

big teej
2010-10-21, 09:24 PM
so not your fault.

I read it right after going for a run.... right after lifting.....:smallsigh:

Lady Moreta
2010-10-21, 11:25 PM
Next time something I post involves food, I'll warn you first :smallbiggrin:

I seem to be on a role this week, because here's another one. I freely admit to cheating with this one - it's taken directly from the game, so I haven't had to come up with any of Ket'Thull's dialogue, or his actions. I just copied/pasted from the in-game thread :smallbiggrin: Only things I have done are take the colours out (Ket'Thull speaks like this, and Lyra speaks like this), and tidy things up a little. I haven't changed anything of what he said (except for adding a 'the' in one spot). All I really did was flesh out Lyra's thoughts, and rewrite some of the action so it flowed better.


Unexpected Friend
or, Now What Did I Do That For?

It’s a nice night out, I’ll give it that much. Merv, Corian and Daxter have already vanished. Goodness knows where they’ve gone – to rest presumably.

Xenith is just ahead of me, still clutching that wine bottle damn him. I’d been looking forward to finishing that off. It’s a sad day when someone has faster hands than I, Garret would be disappointed in me, I’m sure. It’s probably just as well he isn’t here to see me now. Vampires. I shudder.

Xenith is turning the wine bottle over and over in his hands, but not drinking from it. All of a sudden, I’m rather glad I don’t have the bottle. Something tells me drinking from that now wouldn’t be a good idea. Besides, we have to head off to find the vampires tomorrow! If ever a situation called for a clear head, it’s this one.

The things I get myself into… it’s all Ket’Thull’s fault.

Speak of the devil –err, half-orc. Ket’Thull is just ahead of me, in the centre of the courtyard. He has his head back and he’s staring up at the sky. I wonder what he’s looking at. And – is he talking? I can see his lips are moving, but I’m too far away to really hear him. Who on earth could he be talking to? Unless it’s not someone on earth. That makes me grin.

He’s stopped now, and has walked into the inn. I don’t know what makes me do it, curiosity, or just a certain mischievousness, but I march myself up to the same spot he stood in and tip my head backwards. The stars are up there. They’re very pretty, but that’s about it.

The sound of a door shutting echoes around the courtyard. The door to the inn is swinging gently shut, and I can see outlines of people within the building. Suddenly I would very much like to be inside. Besides, I have a bone to pick with Ket’Thull. He got me into this mess.

He’s at the counter, asking for the room the mayor has arranged for him. The poor innkeeper doesn’t look like they quite know what to do with such a well-mannered half-orc. I know exactly how they feel.

The others appear to have vanished. Good. I can pick my bone in private.

I march up to the counter and lean against it, standing far enough away that I don’t have to crane my head too much to look at Ket’Thull’s face. He’s so tall.

"You know, I should never have listened to you." I look up into his face, but he is wearing that stoic, un-expression that annoys me so much. How am I supposed to tell what someone is thinking if they won’t show it on their face? I twitch my shoulders just thinking about it. Listening to Ket’Thull got me in this situation – with vampires.

"What I should have done, was run when I got the chance. Vampires..." I shudder again – just the thought of undead gives me the creeps. I’m never going to get to sleep tonight. What I am going to get is a massive crick in my neck from standing here staring up at him.

"And why do you have to be so damn tall?!"

He looks a little startled at that, then, still with that annoying un-expression on his face, he answers me.

"Because," he replies, "my mother and father had a fight to have custody over me when I was just a child. In fact, my father grabbed my hands, and my mother disagreed, grabbing my legs, and they just pulled... They pulled so hard that my length increased... A little."

“Very funny.” I say it flatly. My expression must be speaking volumes. I certainly hope it is. He stops speaking and peers into my face, then he laughs aloud – it’s a surprisingly cheerful sound.

"Heheh, not true my dear," he says smiling. "I was just joking. Must be my orcish heritage what made me like I am: A tall half-human, half-orc with a short life, but an early maturehood. And more importantly, a selfless servant of good."

My dear… my goodness it makes me want to kick him in the shins again. The way I did when we first met. Still, I suppose it isn’t his fault. He’s not to know how much that particular endearment – doesn’t endear me. I hate being called ‘dear’. Just because I’m short. One of these days, I’m going to find someone with a potion of Enlarge Person, and I’m going to drink the whole thing. Then I’m going to find all those people who’ve ever called me ‘dear’ and stomp all over them.

Now that I think about it, Daxter is a wizard. I wonder if he can cast it?

The sound of tapping on the countertop draws my attention back to my companion. He is speaking again.

"Yes, vampires are dangerous abominations, servants of evil. You could run if you wish, young Lyra," he says gently. "But you didn't. You're here, with us. You just proved to me that you can choose the best, between a life of accomplishment, and a life of regret - running away from your problems, eternally."

I manage not to laugh in his face. Me? Choose the best? I haven’t chosen since the day I fled my home. Since the day my mother was taken from me. A life of regret? He doesn’t know what the word means. Of running away? I don’t run away. I haven’t run away from a job my entire life.

Armour jingles as Ket’Thull removes his sheathed sword from his back and sits down on a nearby bench. I watch in seething silence as he rests the weapon across his knees. I hate to think how much it weighs.

"I personally prefer to accomplish things, my dear," he continues, smiling. "A life of regret means having a long life of no true accomplishments. You may call me crazy, but I think stopping this undead is a small contribution to a peaceful world."

I open my mouth to retort, only to close it again. I didn’t think I’d called him crazy, though he’d clearly taken it that way. No, that wasn’t what had me pausing. What it was, was the memory of another voice, of another time. Calling me crazy. Garret.

Like it was yesterday, I could hear his voice in my memories. Insisting that I was crazy for leaving. That it could be sorted out. That I didn’t have to leave. Didn’t have to run. The words still sting. And it makes me think. Jobs were never my problems. Jobs were easy. Jobs were fun. No, my problems… those were different. Those were insurmountable. At least, that’s how I’d always viewed them. Now, with Ket’Thull’s and Garret’s words playing chase in my mind, I start to wonder if perhaps they were right. Perhaps I have made a career out of running from my problems. But still. Vampires.

I moved over to stand in front of him, planting my hands on my hips to cover my sudden discomfort. It’s much easier to talk when I don’t have to crane my neck to look at him.

"Perhaps," I say finally, it’s a generic word, it should cover me nicely. "I still think I only agreed to come with you because you're big enough to squash me." I grin at him, I know he’s sensitive about being teased, and I do want him to realise I’m only joking.

"Anyway,” I add. “I have plenty of 'true accomplishments'. I just don't think they'd be what you would consider very accomplished.” That’s the gods own truth. I don’t think my ‘accomplishments’ would loom very large in a paladin’s view of the world.

“I don't know if you're crazy, but I do think you're the strangest paladin I've ever met. And I don't mean because of your race."

He’s quite quiet, thinking I guess. Finally, he wraps his hand around the hilt of his sword – that thing is quite a monster.

"Fear not. For I'll protect you as long as you stay close."

I can’t help but laugh at that, he’s always so serious. I know he means well, but I’m not sure he realises why I’m not likely to ever stick too close to him. I’m laughing as I answer him.

"I don't think I'd care to stick too close to you though, you're too big a target!"

He is serious though. It’s – strange to me. I’m not used to anyone other than Garret caring about my safety; and I’m certainly not used to a paladin caring about my safety. Wanting to grab me and lock me up ‘for my own wellbeing and the safety of others’ – sure. But actually caring? Never. I realise I’m staring at his hand, as it rests on the hilt of his sword. Impulsively, I reach out and place my hand over his.

"You're a good man Ket'Thull" I say, suddenly serious myself. There is something very kind in his eyes. I think I like this man. I lean forward and kiss his check.

What the hell? What on earth did I do that for? Ket’Thull looks surprised, and I don’t blame him. I don’t know why I did that either. Abruptly I pull back and walk away, my spine tense and my head held rigidly high. That was stupid, but it’s too late to change it now.

Behind me, I can hear the clink of armour as Ket’Thull stands up, and the solid thud of his footsteps. I’m so tense I just about jump out of my skin when he puts his hand on my shoulder. Thankfully, he’s taken the gauntlet off, I bruise easily.

"You're a good girl too, Lyra," he replies, smiling slightly. "Heroineous' blessings be upon you, my dear."

Shut up! The vehemence of my internal voice surprises even me. The gods and I have a – tenuous relationship at best, but my inner voice knows this isn’t the time to get into a religious argument. Ket’Thull has gone past me now, and is approaching the stairs where Daxter is waiting.

"It's time to rest, young Lyra," he says. "Tomorrow we'll be having an eventful trip..."

I tip my head back to look up at him – why does he have to be so tall? Oh, how I miss Garret. I give him a quick smile and mumble

“Goodnight” I don’t trust myself to say anything else. I’ve already put my foot in it once. Daxter is waiting on the stairs, but I dodge around him and go flying up them, shaking my head as I go. I’m not sure whether I’m doing it to discourage Ket’Thull from following me (though I can hear Daxter chuckling behind me, so I assume he’s inadvertently run interference for me), or if I’m trying to tell myself to stop being an idiot.

I throw myself onto the bed – oh a bed! and kick off my shoes, the bag has already been dumped on the floor. All I really want to do is sleep, and it’s been a long time since I got to sleep in a bed.

I curl up under the blankets and lie there, wondering why I’m not automatically falling asleep. Unconsciously I reach under the pillow, and promptly realise why I’m so restless. Leaning over I grab the straps of my haversack – handy little thing. I asked about them once, apparently, so the story goes, some mage by the name of Heward created them. Must have been a bit of a weakling. Still, they’re useful.

Rummaging around in that with one hand, my other reaches towards my boot. I pull both hands free at the same time. One holds the small whistle I kept from the guild, the other has my dagger. I tuck both of them underneath the pillow, and curl up on my side, one had wrapped around the whistle. I have slept like this ever since they took my mother. It’s not comfortable, but at least now I can sleep.

big teej
2010-10-22, 07:54 AM
Next time something I post involves food, I'll warn you first :smallbiggrin:

I seem to be on a role this week, because here's another one. I freely admit to cheating with this one

if you're not cheating, you're not trying:smallcool:

Lady Moreta
2010-10-22, 08:12 AM
if you're not cheating, you're not trying:smallcool:

Come again? :smallconfused:

big teej
2010-10-22, 10:05 AM
Come again? :smallconfused:

quote I picked up from.....
oh dear, where did I first hear that.

some cheat code source for video games, may have been a website, may have been a booklet.

you said you were cheating because you stole it from a PBP, hence the comment.
if that caused offense... :smallfrown: you have my sincerest aplogies


also, (now that I've had time to actually read it)
I enjoyed reading that :smallbiggrin:

just how tall is the paladin anyways?

Lady Moreta
2010-10-22, 07:35 PM
you said you were cheating because you stole it from a PBP, hence the comment.
if that caused offense... :smallfrown: you have my sincerest aplogies

also, (now that I've had time to actually read it)
I enjoyed reading that :smallbiggrin:

just how tall is the paladin anyways?

Not at all, I was just really tired last night when I posted... if I'd been more awake I would have gotten it and not spent my time going "huh? I don't get it?"

Thank you :smallsmile: it was fun to write.

The paladin is 6'9" or 206cm for those using metric... which I am. Damn, that's taller than I thought... Lyra is 5' - roughly 150-152cm. Wow, she's a midgit... I figured as a rogue it made sense for her to be short. Didn't realise the height difference was that big...

Pisha
2010-10-23, 12:24 AM
This is a bit from the (non-existent) IC journal of my epic-level rogue. (Rogue 14, Fighter 6, Favored Soul 2... don't ask.) She is. Um. Dissatisfied. (Quite, QUITE different from Hakar...)


Dala’s Journal, Day 73

Dear Diary,

Another day, another reason to hate the south.

I mean… they’re a smarmy theocratic dictatorship that tortured me once, so yeah, there’s that. And they broke the world (and possibly all the planes, and maybe even time itself), so there’s that too. And it’s annoyingly hot, until you get into the mountains where it’s annoyingly cold. And they still haven’t updated the reward on my wanted poster. So, y’know, I thought I had plenty of reasons to hate it. But no. Found a new one.

Flesh colossi. Flesh colossi and super-mummies. With super-mummy rot.

Well, ok, technically just the one flesh colossus, but really, THAT IS ENOUGH. It’s going to take me a week to get the stench out of my armor, and that’s AFTER I finish boiling my skin enough to finally feel clean again after the whole super-powerful-mummy rot incident. Damn evil dwarven renegade necromancers. That doohickey of Seph’s had better be worth it.

Gods, I miss the north. I miss home. I just want to fix the broken world, kill the evil emperor and his pet wizard, steal all their money and go back to my impregnable fortress, IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK???

Sigh.

And it’s so stupid, y’know? I spent all my life in the southern part of the Empire, I’d never even been to the Duchy of Whyte until after it seceded, and now it’s “home”?? I mean, no place has ever been home, not even the place I grew up (gods, especially not the place I grew up, now that I think about it), so come on now… seriously?

Except it is. I miss it. I miss our stronghold, with that nifty little courtyard in the middle that we kept wanting to do something neat with, except we never got around to it because we had to fend off an invading army instead. I miss Thaylin with its stupid little dinky market where you can’t buy anything worthwhile (unless you have an in with the Thieves’ Guild) and the guards that glare at me cuz I wouldn’t stay in their jail. I miss that goblin village to the northwest, the one that owes us a favor cuz we helped evacuate them that one time. Gods, I miss living in a place where I can write a letter to the king to say “Hi” and he’ll write back!!

I miss Mordecai.

I wonder if he’s found another rakishly sexy female rogue to lie to and then get seduced by.

Meh, even if he did, I’m sure she couldn’t give him as much of a run for his money in a fair fight as I did. (And yes, I am aware that when a man coming close to killing you in battle counts as a turn-on – undercover agent or no – it has officially been Too Long. Moving on…) Anyway, that’s still one more reason to wrap this up as soon as possible.

Besides. I don’t like dragging Celia all over Hell’s half-acre. I mean, she’s a trooper, no mistake – she hasn’t complained, she pulls her own weight and she’s having Valuable Learning Experiences. Regardless, this is no way for a kid to spend her childhood. I want to get her home, let her relax, not have to worry about one of her new “family” dying every week or so. Heck, maybe even let her have some fun that doesn’t involve blowing things up or setting them on fire. I know, crazy notion, right?

Blarg. The sooner we fix the cracks in space-time and all reality, the sooner we can leave.


Edit: a new project at work is temporarily eating up a lot of my free time, so I haven't been following this thread or any other for a little while. I just now saw the request to turn the "nasty things to do to players" post into a snippet. And I gotta say... y'know, pretty much all there is to it is what was in that post. :) I mean, heck, I'm flattered at the request and I'll absolutely give it a shot, but I'm not sure how much I can expand on it!

Lady Moreta
2010-10-23, 01:29 AM
Oh Pisha, you have a real talent for this, I love it! :smallbiggrin:

The writing is just so natural, and flows so well. It reminds me of the way I write in my diary (when I actually wrote in a diary that is). It's just so very down to earth. I loved the Valuable Learning Experiences with the capitals, and the fact that it's been Too Long - I'd have to agree, almost getting killed in battle being a turn on - that's not a good sign.


Edit: a new project at work is temporarily eating up a lot of my free time, so I haven't been following this thread or any other for a little while. I just now saw the request to turn the "nasty things to do to players" post into a snippet. And I gotta say... y'know, pretty much all there is to it is what was in that post. :) I mean, heck, I'm flattered at the request and I'll absolutely give it a shot, but I'm not sure how much I can expand on it!

Ahh work, how much we hate thee :smallsmile:

Hehe, it was just such an awesome story, it cried out to be snippeted. Or maybe it's just that I wanted to read it as such :smallsmile:

big teej
2010-10-23, 05:05 PM
Not at all, I was just really tired last night when I posted... if I'd been more awake I would have gotten it and not spent my time going "huh? I don't get it?"

Thank you :smallsmile: it was fun to write.

The paladin is 6'9" or 206cm for those using metric... which I am. Damn, that's taller than I thought... Lyra is 5' - roughly 150-152cm. Wow, she's a midgit... I figured as a rogue it made sense for her to be short. Didn't realise the height difference was that big...

wow.... cog is only 6 foot 6

I now feel bad for my friends =( (most of my IRL friends are a good 6 - 8 inches shorter than me, if not more so.)

I hope they don't get cricks in their necks trying to look ME in the eyes :smallfrown:
/ramble

Lady Moreta
2010-10-24, 09:22 PM
wow.... cog is only 6 foot 6

I now feel bad for my friends =( (most of my IRL friends are a good 6 - 8 inches shorter than me, if not more so.)

I hope they don't get cricks in their necks trying to look ME in the eyes :smallfrown:
/ramble

I wouldn't stress about it :smallsmile: The height difference here is quite significant, I don't know that 6-8 inches would make that much difference. Then again, I don't know what that is in normal measurements anyway :smalltongue:

big teej
2010-10-24, 09:53 PM
I wouldn't stress about it :smallsmile: The height difference here is quite significant, I don't know that 6-8 inches would make that much difference. Then again, I don't know what that is in normal measurements anyway :smalltongue:

I don't know what 'normal' is either, I DO know that I tend to be 6 - 18 inches taller than my buddies :smalltongue:

but I digress...

the weekend is over, and tomorrow I'm going to try and write up the guardsman snippet

Lady Moreta
2010-10-24, 10:50 PM
the weekend is over, and tomorrow I'm going to try and write up the guardsman snippet

Yay! :smallbiggrin:

I have a snippet currently in progress... I meant to attach it as a draft to my gmail, so I could write at work, and I forgot :smallfrown:

I may just start another one instead...

Any requests?

big teej
2010-10-25, 07:54 AM
Yay! :smallbiggrin:

I have a snippet currently in progress... I meant to attach it as a draft to my gmail, so I could write at work, and I forgot :smallfrown:

I may just start another one instead...

Any requests?

something that makes us go 'awwwww'? since you seem so fond of the word
:smallsmile:

Lady Moreta
2010-10-25, 11:12 PM
something that makes us go 'awwwww'? since you seem so fond of the word
:smallsmile:

Ummmmm... I'll try :smallsmile:

Any particular character you'd like to see?

Machuchang
2010-10-26, 12:26 AM
How Lyra met Ket'Thull
or, Yes Sir, No Sir, Three Bags Full Sir


I just love this one.:smallbiggrin: While the interruptions of the [hungryhungryhungry]'s made it a little confusing to read at times, I felt that they still did a good job at conveying Lyra's appetite. The part with the children was just adorable, and Ket'Thull's personality and behavior are incredible. My favorite has to be Lyra though. I just love her spunky personality and wit, and the story made me really curious to see how she got in her situation from her point of view.

Overall, the writing was excellent, and I really loved the contrasting character personalities. The way you got into their heads was incredibly well done, especially in spite of the third person narration, which doesn't tend to be as conducive for that sort of thing.




Unexpected Friend
or, Now What Did I Do That For?


Now this one, I really really really enjoyed. I'm a total sucker for love/hate relationships, and I really like how Lyra and Ket'thull's relationship was handled here, with Lyra's confusion and Ket'Thull's bemused reaction. I'm glad that I got to learn more about Lyra's past, and I love how I left the story feeling like there was still much more about her character that I needed to learn. Like who Garrett is, and what events actually led to up to her current lot in life. I'm very curious to see how she acts around her other party members as well. Well done!



Dala’s Journal, Day 73


Oh man! This is one is amazing! Dala's snarky and sardonic attitude is just hilarious, and I love how you managed to capture all of that in such a short diary entry. You also hinted at a lot of past adventures, plans, and other characters, which really made me curious about Dala's history and her effect on the world. This was really a great piece!


Now I have some Natalia and Varen snippets to share as well. I've been working on writing the events that followed The Other Side and In Search of Truth, but have yet to finish to them. So instead, I just have some of their past interactions with the shakers and movers of the campaign world. At the very least, they should prove revealing.



The Pride of the Father
(or Daddy's Little Princess)
I was finally free!

The Deathwind was dead and the Hearteater was gone. I was now the chieftain of the most bloodthirsty legion of terrorists on the continent, and they had to obey me. Not that I had planned to do anything about that. I just had to escape. And since their newly ascended leaders had to survive in the wilderness alone for three days, it would be all too easy for me to disappear. In fact, I already had. The Crownbreakers were one day behind me, and I had made good progress. By the time they realized that I wouldn’t be coming back, it would be far too late. There was no way that they could catch me now. The feelings of disgust and horror over my actions had now been replaced with joy and exhilaration. I never thought I would have escaped alive. But as I walked along and surveyed my surroundings, a strange feeling came over me. Something seemed familiar…

No… It couldn’t be… Could it?

As I finally came across the small little brook, I knew it was. The Monastery. Somehow I had found my way back to where it had all began. After all this time, I was finally home.

I ran up the hill from the creek, and there it was. Or at least, what was left of it. The charred remains of the abbey were scattered all across the grounds, and nothing was left at all save for a few pitiful walls and a strange makeshift hut in the center of the foundation. Even stranger though, was the man standing outside of it.

He was tall and sturdily built, with long, wavy auburn hair, and when he saw me, his face went pale. Almost as if he had just seen a ghost. In a way, I guess he had. But something about him was just too familiar…

“N-no… Natalia?”

That voice… That hair… Those eyes…


…Daddy…?


“Natalia!” he cried as he ran to me, catching me in a strong embrace. “Oh gods! They told me you were dead! Oh Natalia!”

“Father?” I could barely contain myself. “Father, is that you?”

“Yes, Natalia!” he was sobbing now. “Oh my dear little girl! Yes!”

“Natalia…?” I heard another voice, this one much more wary. “She’s alive?”

“Father Daugherty?”

My father released me and wiped the tears from his eyes, smiling widely. Father Daugherty cautiously approached me, his eyes wide.

“My, my, my…” he muttered as he stroked his thick blonde mustache. “It is so good to see that you are alive, Natalia,” he gave me a small smile. “But I’m afraid we have much to discuss. There is much you need to know regarding the attack,”

They led me back to the hut, my father holding me tightly. After we were all seated, Daugherty began to speak.

“It is good that you are seated for this, Natalia,” he said at last. “For there is much that we must reveal to you,”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “I have some questions for you. Father, you said that I would never see you again! Father Daugherty, why are you still here when there’s nothing left? How long have I actually been gone?”

“Patience is a virtue, my child,” Father Daugherty muttered as he gave me a disapproving look. “If you must know, it is Springfall of the year 981. You have been missing for almost two years,”

“When I heard the news, I left my hiding place in Didierros to pay my respects,” my Father said. “But I’m a wanted man, there is a large price on my head. I had to be very careful, so it took me a long time to get here. I have been here with Daugherty for a little more than a month, trying to find out what happened on the day of your kidnapping, why Daugherty was never warned, why you were the only person taken,”

“Wait! Hiding? A price on your head? Father, what is going on?”

“My dear, if you just let us tell you the story, you would hear for yourself,” Daugherty mumbled, mainly to himself.

“You see, Natalia, my brother, your uncle, is none other than Acton Sen’Gowran! The Emperor of Geridia himself! I am his elder and only brother, and fifteen years ago, I was the heir to the throne! But your uncle, that blackheart, wanted the throne for himself. He secretly had a bounty put on all of our heads, yours, mine, and your mother’s, so that no one but him could lay claim to the throne! Your mother, gods bless her, was killed in our own home,” he dropped his head into his hands and began to sob uncontrollably. “So I brought you to Daugherty; he’s an old friend. I thought you would be safe! Never did I expect though, what your evil uncle would be willing to do to finish you off,”

“You see, through the many contacts I have maintained from my time as heir, I learned that Acton, gods curse him, had specific information planted within the Fear Legion’s ranks that pointed to this very monastery as the perfect target for an attack! Not only that, but the king made sure no information would be passed to warn Daugherty about the impending doom of the monastery! All of your friends, comrades, and teachers were killed by the Crownbreakers, just so that you would be killed as well. They were condemned for merely being near you!”

I was shocked. I was confused. I was frightened. But most of all, I was angry as hell.

“The Emperor was behind this? Behind everything that we had to go through…?” I was seething with rage. “He doesn’t deserve to live, much less lead!”

“Indeed,” Daugherty said solemnly. “But first tell me, Natalia, why are you dressed like a Crownbreaker?”

“I managed to escape by killing their chieftain-”

“You killed the Deathwind?” my father interjected. “That means you’re their leader! This gives me a wonderful idea!”

Daugherty looked dumbstruck.

“Natalia, you see, the world thinks that I am dead. But you! You are the next in line for the throne! As my child, you take precedence over Acton! You can take over, and you and I can lead this country into peace and prosperity! You said it yourself, Acton does not deserve to lead! Well we can stop him! We can save this country!” He was so excited he could barely contain himself. “And you’re controlling the Crownbreakers! This is perfect! You see, the Crownbreakers have already shaken the people’s faith in Acton. You can lead them with my directions, to keep the pressure up on him! And then, when the people begin to revolt, you can step in, separate from your Crownbreaker identity! The people will flock to you as their savior! Then, when the time is right, you as the leader of the Crownbreakers will lead them against the Empire’s forces, purposefully feeding them faulty commands! They will fall and will be forever destroyed, and we will be able to restore Geridia to a time before Acton Sen’Gowran! And best of all, the people never need know what you did in order to get there!”

I went cold. What my father was saying frightened me. I had to go back to the Crownbreakers, then I would have to lead them, to assist them in spreading terror.

“Father, no,” I said, worried about alienating him. “What you’re saying is crazy! You’re asking that I harm innocent people to scare them into action! I cannot agree to this!”

“Natalia, I thought you would understand. It is for the greater good! More people will be harmed by both the Crownbreakers and my brother if we don’t act! Don’t you see? If he was willing to have a whole monastery of the Eight-Pointed Star destroyed just to kill you, imagine what else he would do out of pettiness or spite! Would you just allow your country to fall into chaos? We need to stop him, and this is the only way!”

Daugherty gazed at me solemnly, a sad expression on his face.

“I am afraid that I must agree. Natalia, you must do this. If the Emperor learns that you yet live, then you shall be killed as well, and more people will be harmed. While people will die no matter what you choose, if you side with your father, then you shall at the very least prevent the loss of more life in the long run,”

My father just stared at me, an agonized expression on his face.

“Natalia…” he said, his voice choked. “Don’t you trust me…?”





“All right,” I finally said. “I will do as you ask,”




Mr. Varen
(or Someone Needs a Better Babysitter)
There were people everywhere. My ears were assaulted by the roar of the masses as they went about their daily lives. The thick scents of spices, fish, hay, potions, animals, and alcohol clogged the air. The sun beat down hot across the plaza, and the air was thick with humidity. I could scarcely believe my senses. I was finally in the capitol city.

It had been weeks since the attack on the monastery, and I was still searching for the Crownbreakers. Unfortunately, I was falling farther and farther behind, and I had finally run out of supplies. This was only supposed to be a quick stop, but I had already become lost.

As I stumbled through the throngs of people, one sound stood out above all the others. A shrill scream of fear. I watched in horrified disgust as the masses parted to reveal a massive, darkly-clad figure sprinting through their midst, carrying something slumped over his shoulder. A small child.

Without thinking, I gave chase. The kidnapper was fast though, and my armor slowed me down. But nothing would stop me. He tried as hard as he could to throw me off, but although he had speed, I had stamina. Soon the figure began to tire, and that was when I struck. I tensed, and somehow managed to launch myself at him, despite the weight of my armor. To both my surprise and his, I caught him and pulled him to the ground. He dropped the child, who fell and remained stock-still in fear as I pummeled the kidnapper. Unfortunately, he wriggled free and escaped into the crowd. But the child was still there. I turned to her and smiled, intending to be reassuring.

“Are you alright?” I asked. The poor thing. She couldn’t have been more than five years old. I shuddered to think about what could have happened to her if I hadn’t intervened. It seemed like no one else would have done anything.

“Y-yeah,” she started crying.

“Oh! Hey, it’s alright! Don’t worry! Don’t be scared! You’re safe now!” I cooed as I gave her a hug. She started to calm down, much to my relief. “There we go. Now don’t worry, okay? I’m here to help you now, alright? My name’s Varen,” I smiled at her again, and this time she smiled back. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Sadia, Mr. Varen,” she said that as though it had been rehearsed a thousand times.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sadia,” I said. “Where are your mommy and daddy? Were they with you when that bad man came and grabbed you?”

“No, Mr. Varen,” she shook her head. “They were busy. I was with Adalyn,” This kid had some really good manners…

“Okay, and do you know where Adalyn is?” I asked.

“No, Mr. Varen,” She shook her head again, then stopped, a frightened expression on her face. “Do you think a bad man took her too, Mr. Varen?”

“No! No,” I smiled at her again. Poor thing. I really hoped that wasn’t the case, but even if it was, I had to get poor little Sadia back home before I could do anything about it. “I bet she went back home to get some help to find you! So if we go back to your home, we can save Adalyn a whole lot of trouble, right?”

Sadia smiled and nodded her head.

“Alrighty then!” I patted her shoulder. “Do you know where your house is?”

“Yeah!” she grinned excitedly. “It’s the biggest house in the whole city!” she looked shocked and appalled immediately after she said that. “Oh no! It’s bad manners to say that!”

“Sadia,” I said. “You don’t need to worry about manners with me, alright? No need for the Mr. Varens or anything! Okay?”

“Okay Mr. Varen,” she said. She still looked a little worried and embarrassed. Poor thing. I just wanted to cheer her up.

“Hey, if your house really is the biggest, then I might not be able to see it from all the way down here,” I said. “But I bet if you ride on my shoulders you could see it, and then you could lead me to it!”

Her smile was immense. I bent down, and she excitedly scrambled up onto my shoulders, piggy-back. It didn’t take long at all before I had received a multitude of directions and instructions.


So we wandered throughout the city for a while, with her pulling on my ponytail and excitedly pointing out her favorite sites the entire time. I wasn’t sure if she actually knew where she was going, but at least it was a great way to get to know the capitol. But when night fell and I had about given up hope for finding it, she shrieked in delight!

“There it is Mr. Varen!” she pointed. “I told you it was the biggest house in the city!”

It wasn’t just the biggest house in the city. It barely qualified as a house. It was a palace. And not even just any palace. The Royal Castle stood right in front of me, the home of the Emperor himself.

With Sadia still sitting on my shoulders, I made my way to the gatehouse. Before I knew what was happening, I was surrounded by the Emperor’s personal guards. Sadia waved to them happily.

“Don’t worry you guys! Mr. Varen saved me!”

“Oh! Sadia! I was so worried!”

“Oh thank the gods!”

A blonde teenaged girl and a mousy-haired middle-aged woman ran to me from the castle grounds, pushing past the guards. I carefully lifted Sadia from my shoulders and handed her to the woman.

“Adalyn,” she asked warily. “This isn’t the man who took her, is it?”

“No, mother,” the girl shook her head. “He is far too short… No offense,” she added hastily.

“None taken,” I smiled at them. “I’m just glad that I could get my new friend home safe and sound,”

“You are truly a saint!” the woman said as she embraced me. The guards shifted nervously, unsure of what to do. “Don’t mind them,” the woman laughed. “Come in, come in, I’m sure Sadia’s father would love to have a word with you,” Before I had a chance to protest, she dragged me through the courtyard into the keep.

“I’m Elvira, by the way,” she smiled at me. “I do apologize! In all the excitement, I forgot to have us introduce ourselves! Pardon my terrible manners! My step-daughter here is Adalyn,”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Varen,“ Something about Adalyn seemed strange to me. She looked eerily familiar. But before I could dwell on it further we were already in the Great Hall.

“Acton! Sadia is safe! We have her savior here with us right now!” Elvira shouted, her voice echoing throughout the castle halls. Oh gods. This was really the royal family. I was in Emperor Acton Sen’Gowran’s home, being praised by his wife, the Queen. I felt incredibly awkward and out of place. “ACTON! GET DOWN HERE AND THANK THE MAN WHO SAVED YOUR DAUGHTER!”

“Coming, dearest,” I heard a deep but tired voice from across the hall. And there he was. The Emperor himself strode across the hall, until finally, we were face to face.

He was much shorter than I had expected, but it was undoubtedly him. The short-cropped auburn hair, the dark green eyes, the sturdy build, the royal fineries and all.

“You must be the man who saved my daughter,” he smiled pleasantly. “You are a good man, but I am ashamed to say that I am not aware of your name,”

“Varen Castellos, your highness,”

“Varen Castellos,” he smiled as he seated himself at the long table. “It’s a good name. I imagine I’ll be hearing it much more in the future,” His family gathered around him.

“Please Varen, come join us,” Elvira said. “We’ve had to postpone dinner for fear of Sadia’s safety. Now that she’s here, the least we can do is feed you as well,”

I simply wasn’t allowed to say no. The dinner was fantastic, and the royal family was more than accommodating. They were incredibly easy to talk to, and soon I found that I had told them my entire story. It seemed that all too quickly, it was over. Soon, I found myself sitting at the table alone with the King.

“You know, Varen,” the King said, half talking to me, half talking to himself. “I always strive to be the best I can possibly be. The best ruler, the best commander, the best husband, the best father…” He patted me on the shoulder. “But you are a much better man than I. In just the span of several hours, you have done more for my daughter than I feel I have managed to my whole life. She just wouldn’t stop talking about riding you around the city,” he chuckled warmly.

“My lord,” I said. “You obviously love your daughter, which makes you a far better father to Sadia than I could ever be. You are always going to be there for her because of that. Your love is what really matters,”

He patted me heavily on the shoulder, a huge smile on his face.

“You are a good man, Varen,” the King shook his head. “This Natalia of yours is incredibly lucky to have someone like you,” He stood. “I am a busy man, Varen. So please forgive me for not being able to stay and talk longer. But you have saved my child. So for that you have my eternal thanks, but even that feels like it is not enough. If there are any favors you would ask of me, I would be all too happy to try and grant them,”

“My lord,” I was shocked. “Please, there is no need-”

“Perhaps not,” he cut me off. “But if you ever truly need my assistance, never hesitate to call upon me,” With that, he began to walk away.


“Good luck, Varen Castellos,” his voice echoed throughout the hall even after he had left.


“You will need it,”

Lady Moreta
2010-10-26, 02:02 AM
*snip*

Awwwww, (there I go with that word again) thanks :smallredface: They were lots of fun to write. I've already told Ket'Thull's player that I think the character is just adorable. He's playing him as just a little naive, which at the moment is showing up in him taking everything Lyra says seriously. I find it hilarious :smallsmile: I had actually thought about taking that first one and re-writing it as a first person through Lyra's eyes. I think I will now :smallsmile:

Oh, and I'm curious to see how she is around the others too! there hasn't been much interaction yet (we only just started playing).



The Pride of the Father
(or Daddy's Little Princess)


Wow. Excellent as always. Very revealing, and extremely thought-provoking as well. I can't help but wonder if Varen really did the right thing, and you raised my hackles quite nicely with the whole "you'll need it" bit at the end. In fact, those have to be two of the best endings I've ever read. Both are perfectly reasonable things for each of them to say, and yet, having read the previous ones, I find myself suspicious and mistrustful at the same time.

Very well done :smallsmile: I still love Varen, and Natalia is turning into a wonderful anti-heroine.

Lady Moreta
2010-10-26, 03:49 AM
I finished another one!

Also, Machuchang, I meant to thank you for your kind words about the use of third person in the first of the Lyra/Ket'Thull snippets :smallsmile: It was actually incredibly hard to write. I struggled switching back between the two. I had intended it to be entirely as if we were hovering over Lyra's shoulder, but when I got to the point where she flips because he's a paladin (and yes, there is a reason for that), it just wasn't working. I had to switch it to Ket'Thull. Which I was really nervous about, because I tend to struggle with using too many PoV's at a time. So I'm extremely glad to hear it worked :smallsmile:

Oh, and here's another snippet:


The Buddy
or, Next Time - A Cleric
This isn’t going well.

You might wonder why I’m saying that, when in fact, nothing has gone wrong. They call me suspicious. They call me superstitious. But I don’t trust a job where nothing goes wrong.

I breathe out a near-silent sigh. The house is quiet, the way is clear. It’s time.

Moving with the silence only halflings can manage; I make my way back to the room where Lyra waits. I was surprised at how quietly she can move; she tells me it’s the result of being small. I laughed in her face the first time she said that, but I have to admit for a human – she is pretty short.

The first thing I see upon entering the room are Lyra’s eyes. The barest hint of moonlight coming through the curtained window is reflecting off Lyra’s dark blue eyes. As my eyes adjust, I can see that she is grinning at me. Her thieves tools are dangling from her fingers.

“Garret! I think we’ve hit the jackpot with this one. The boss will be pleased.” She bowed low and gestured grandly, sweeping her hands out to encompass the whole room. I cast my own eyes around the room, taking it all in. By Yondalla! The girl is right! This is a find. It would appear that the new neighbours are rather well off.

The entire room is barely big enough for the two of us, but it’s full of – well – the sort of things that make people like us start to drool. This couple have only been in [City] for a short time, but the wife has been walking around with some very expensive jewellery. The sort of gems that encourage people like us to pay them an unscheduled visit.

And so here we are, Lyra and I. Standing in a veritable treasure trove of precious metals and gems. Lyra is still grinning like an idiot, as I find my eyes caught by an ornately carved wooden box.

“Shall I?” I ask, tugging my own tools out of the pouch at my waist. Carefully I lean over and study the box, it is really very pretty. I wonder how much it’s worth? A couple of minutes of examination and I can tell it’s not trapped, but it is locked.

“Garret, hurry up” Lyra has come up and is now peering over my shoulder. She’s stuffing a ruby necklace into her belt pouch and she looks nervous. It’s never a good sign when Lyra gets nervous. I knew this was going too well. I stopped what I was doing – if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s don’t ignore Lyra’s instincts.

“What is it?” My voice was a little tense, I’ll admit, but this is a delicate procedure.

“I don’t know” she said, going towards the door. “I just get the feeling...” Her voice trailed off. “I think there’s someone out there.”

“Where?” I stop in the middle of lock-picking.

“Somewhere out...” Her voice trailed off and she seemed to be staring right through the walls. It made me nervous, I’ve seen Lyra like this before – makes me nervous.

“Hang on, I’ll go check” she grinned at me. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

I lunged and grabbed the bottom of her tunic before she could leave.

“Lyra – are you okay?” She turns around to look at me and I can see her eyes have dilated.

“I’ve got this” she assures me. Lyra and I have worked together for years; she knows what I’m really saying. I trust her.

“Good. Be careful.” An answering grin and she’s gone – out the door and left down the hallway. I promptly turn my attention back to the elegantly engraved wooden box.

The box is gorgeous, I think I’ll ask Ronal if I can keep it. Lock’s not very good though. Not that that bothers me much. Not under the present circumstances at least. I realise I’m grinning – probably like an idiot – as the lock gives way with a soft click and I can lift the lid.

Oh my. Well now.

This is a surprise. A diamond – not very large, but flawlessly cut.

Well now indeed.

I reach into the box and lift out the diamond, a soft cloth ready in my other hand to wrap it. As soon as I touch the gem –

“AAHHHHHIIIIEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee”

Pure shock has me falling from my perch to land unceremoniously on the floor. Instinct means I keep my hold on the diamond, but the box has gone flying. I watch helplessly as it spins through the air and smashes into the small window.

BARK. BARK.

What the hell? Oh great. Some fancy-pants wizard goes and sets up an alarm spell. And what do they use to sound the alarm? The sound of dogs barking. Just peachy.

But I have bigger problems. That scream is still ringing in my ears, and I know exactly where it came from. Lyra.

Shoving the diamond hastily into my belt pouch, I hightail it out of the room and into the corridor. Quick and cautious, I head in the same direction Lyra took, and before long – I find her.

Sure enough, she’s on the floor – out cold. Silly little idiot. I knew this was too easy. The damn girl’s gone and overextended herself and now she’s unconscious. It’d be funny if it hadn’t happened so often. I wish she’d let me kidnap her a cleric.

Ah well, no use crying over tripped alarm spells now. No robbery is complete until you’ve got away; and we can’t get away until I can get sense back into Lyra.

I drop down next to her and fumble for a few seconds in her belt pouch until I find what I’m looking for. Good girl. She replaced the last vial we had to use. She might be prone to – whatever it is she’s prone to – but she takes care of herself. We discovered quite by accident that magical healing will bring her back, and ever since that night, she’s made sure she has some handy.

Hastily I pull the stopper and pour the potion down her throat, pinching her nose to make her swallow. A few seconds later and she’s coughing and groaning. I clap a hand over her mouth. They know we’re here, but there’s no point making it easy for them.

“Lyra! Lyra it’s me. It’s Garret!” I hiss into her ear, waiting until I see recognition in her eyes. They’re still massively dilated and definitely not focused. She’s staring at the ceiling, and last time I checked, I wasn’t that tall.

“Lyra. Lyra c’m on! We’ve been made. We gotta go.” Ah the magic words “we’ve been made”. I could raise the dead with those words. As long as the dead was a thief.

And sure enough, she responds. She struggles to get her hands and feet coordinated, and her eyes still won’t focus, but she’s up. Or at least, partly up.

“Garret…”

“Yeah girl, I’m right here. Let’s go. Gotta get out of here.” I grab her arm and start tugging. She’s not a heavy girl, but the difference in our heights makes things awkward. Eventually I get her on her feet and start us both moving towards the exit. In this case, the same window we broke in by.

I can’t hear anything – yet. But I don’t want to be around that long. Lyra is struggling to keep up with me. She’s trying, bless her little human heart, but she’s not doing so well. I need to get her back to the guildhouse before she passes out on me again. She’s not normally this bad.

She staggers and falls, dragging me down with her before I can catch our balance. Damn it! I should never have let her go off. I knew she wasn’t right.

“Garret?” I turn my head sharply. She’s looking right at me, her eyes are (thankfully!) more focused than they were.

“What?” I am rather more abrupt than I mean to be. She’s frowning, and I can tell she’s hurting. Nausea and headaches always accompany these little episodes. She flinches at my response.

“’m sorry…” she’s mumbling, another bad sign. I heave a sigh. I cannot stay angry with her. Not that I was really angry to begin with. Another sigh, and I get up and start tugging again.

‘”It’s not your fault” I tell her. Ah, there is the doorway, and just through that is the window. Excellent. I stumble and stagger us both towards the window. Lyra has a hand trailing on the wall, trying to help keep herself upright. I can hear her breathing harsh just above my head. I hope she doesn’t throw up on me…

We’ve made it. I forcibly shove Lyra out the window, then scramble out after her. I can guide us both down. Nothing I haven’t done before. We reach the street at the same time voices start yelling above our heads. Gods they don’t pay much attention do they. Still I should be grateful. Lyra has collapsed in a heap at my feet, clutching her head.

I grab the cloak she abandoned outside before we broke in and shove it over her shoulders and take her hand in mine. Now we’re just a mother and child hurrying home.

“Come on,” I tell her, “let’s get out of here.”

We hurry down the street, Lyra is weaving on her feet, but she stays upright. I keep a close eye out, just in case. And as we leave the shouts and screams behind us, I mutter

“Next time, I’m kidnapping a cleric…”

WhiteShark
2010-10-26, 05:14 PM
That was great! I enjoyed finally getting to meet Garrett. Couple of minor grammatical nitpicks, though. Lots of dialogue without punctuation; most of these needed a comma before the quotation mark. The other was this sentence: Moving with the silence only halflings can manage; I make my way back to the room where Lyra waits.
The first part is only a fragment, so the semicolon should be a comma instead.

Other than that, though, it was fantastic; the storytelling element seemed flawless.

big teej
2010-10-26, 05:48 PM
I am afraid I haven't had time to read the new snippets, nor even think about the guardsmen...

real live is kicking my butt...

griping follows, ye have been warned

I have to creat a 20 minute powerpoint presentation for a group project that is due thursday.
I have a take home exam due next tuesday (all essay questions)
I have to read at least another chapter in my sociology (and maybe psycology) textbook by tomorrow
and best for last
my workload from art class jumped from "I can show up a half hour early and get this done" to "I need to devote SIX HOURS to this out of class"

and, on top of all of this, I have to figure out what to run for dnd sunday! :smallfrown:
tl;dr - homework, lots.

ugh....

darkpuppy
2010-10-26, 08:07 PM
can't really help with the rest, teej, but as to the DnD? join the dark side, run Dark Sun... the only way to do unmentionable things to your players' characters with perfect fluff and crunch justification! :smallbiggrin:

speaking of which, I might write a Thri-Kreen story at some point after I've struggled with cleaning the flat and photoshop woes. I've always had a soft spot for them since "Thri-Kreen of Athas" came out all those years ago!

big teej
2010-10-26, 08:20 PM
can't really help with the rest, teej, but as to the DnD? join the dark side, run Dark Sun... the only way to do unmentionable things to your players' characters with perfect fluff and crunch justification! :smallbiggrin:



explain please?
:smallconfused:

Lady Moreta
2010-10-26, 08:58 PM
That was great! I enjoyed finally getting to meet Garrett. Couple of minor grammatical nitpicks, though. Lots of dialogue without punctuation; most of these needed a comma before the quotation mark. The other was this sentence: Moving with the silence only halflings can manage; I make my way back to the room where Lyra waits.
The first part is only a fragment, so the semicolon should be a comma instead.

Other than that, though, it was fantastic; the storytelling element seemed flawless.

:smallsigh: Stupid Word. It was giving me grammar grief and kept insisting that was a mistake and should be a semicolon. Now that I read it again, you're quite right. Should know better than to listen to Word.

Commas are the bane of my existence, I always forget about them. I'll go back and fix it - some time. Eventually :smallsmile:


I am afraid I haven't had time to read the new snippets, nor even think about the guardsmen...

real live is kicking my butt...

Real life is so rude, isn't it? :smallsmile:

big teej
2010-10-26, 10:35 PM
Real life is so rude, isn't it? :smallsmile:

it's only fair, I kick its butt every now and again :smallcool:

Machuchang
2010-10-27, 12:19 AM
The Buddy
or, Next Time - A Cleric


This was great! I'm really curious as to the exact nature of Lyra's condition, and I just love Garret's attitude, just paranoid and cynical enough to survive in his profession, but also quite clever and caring. He seems a little bit like too much of a nice guy to be a thief, so that made me really curious about his backstory as well. He also reminds me a lot of a halfling rogue of my own, named Garrett, so I keep imagining him as mine.:smallbiggrin:
Plus, I just love the mental image of an average-sized halfling hefting a 5 ft human woman and dragging her to a window. While dramatic in context, I just find the mental image very entertaining.



Wow. Excellent as always. Very revealing, and extremely thought-provoking as well. I can't help but wonder if Varen really did the right thing, and you raised my hackles quite nicely with the whole "you'll need it" bit at the end. In fact, those have to be two of the best endings I've ever read. Both are perfectly reasonable things for each of them to say, and yet, having read the previous ones, I find myself suspicious and mistrustful at the same time.

Very well done :smallsmile: I still love Varen, and Natalia is turning into a wonderful anti-heroine.

Wow! You are far too kind!:smallredface: Thank you very much!


*snip*
Sorry to hear about all that craziness you have going on in real life. Sounds like you've got a lot of work on your hands, and I hope that it doesn't get too overwhelming for you. You're making me scared of college now!:smalleek:


And since I just can't seem to post without including a snippet, here you all go! It's another one of the early tales of Varen, taking place in the first year of his quest a few weeks after his encounter with the King.



The Blue Bard
(or Everything Seems Like A Much Better Idea Than It Really Is When You're Tired)
Night fell as I wandered through the streets. I needed a place to sleep. Badly.

I had been on the road for weeks, and I was certainly feeling it. It had been a rough day for sure, my money was getting low, and I was starting to get worried. I had only been side-tracked in Konne for a few days, but the trail had already gone dead. How could such a large and destructive force of barbarians just vanish like that?

Natalia…

I could only hope that she was still alright. I cursed myself for letting them get away as I slammed my fist into a wall. But even that seemed half-hearted. I was just too tired…

“Everything alright over there, good sir?” a voice called out from behind me. I turned around in shock and saw a short, thin man sitting across the street from me, his back to the wall. I was surprised that I hadn’t noticed him until he spoke; he was certainly not a common figure. He wore a sparkling blue outfit, with a massive blue hat and blue leather boots. His eyes were lined with blue make-up, as were his lips, and even his hair had been dyed a deep azure. It seemed as though only his eyes remained untouched by the color blue, instead exhibiting a dark brown color. In his lap, he strummed a small, four-stringed lute-like instrument, which was, of course, blue.

“No…” I admitted sadly.

“Well, things haven’t been going so great for me either, friend,” he chuckled. “Care to sit with me? I have been told that misery loves company, after all,” he patted the sidewalk, indicating a seat next to him. I don’t why, but for some reason I ended up taking his offer. Maybe I had just needed somebody to talk to.

“There we go!” he said happily. “I am the Blue Bard, though some know me as Julian Barowitz,” he strummed a chord on his instrument to emphasize his epithet. “And you would be?”

“Varen Castellos,” I said. “So, what’s your story?” I asked him. He shook his head and smiled sadly.

“Ah, where to start my good man? I was laughed out of my gig at the Broken Bottle, I can’t write a song, my fiancé slept with my biggest rival, the Maroon Minstrel! Then she kicked me out of my own home onto the streets, and she won’t let me back in! Not just that, but the Maroon Minstrel stole my theme on purpose! Now he’s calling himself the Cyan Siren, that bastard! I had the color blue first, but he stole it! I mean really-” he kept getting more and more agitated as he went on, only to be interrupted by a growl from his stomach.

“Oh dear! Do excuse me!” he chuckled awkwardly.

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten, Julian?” I asked, alarmed.

“Oh no need to worry! It’s only been but a few days!” he tried to laugh it off, only to be met once again by his stomach’s protestations.

“Come on,” I said as I stood. “Let’s get you some food. You’ve been having such a bad time lately, it’s the least I could do,” To my surprise, he started to get choked up. I swore I could see him starting to cry.

“That is the most kind thing anyone has said to me in such a long time!” he sobbed as I helped him up. “You are a saint! An angel! Truly a paragon of goodness and compassion!”

I was starting to get embarrassed. People passing by were starting to stare. I ushered him out of the street, looking to find some place to get him some food. It wasn’t long before he stopped crying and started to jabber on again, but I was so tired that I didn’t really hear most of it. Eventually, we found a small little restaurant, where the Blue Bard proceeded to order practically everything on the menu. As he ate, he continued to talk and talk and talk. After a while, he finally asked me a question.

“Oh goodness! I almost forgot, Varen!” he said between mouthfuls of food. “Why are you so unhappy? I had become so enthralled by my stroke of good fortune that I completely forgot to indulge you, my benefactor! Please, do tell!”

“Well,” I said. “My friend Natalia has been kidnapped by the Crownbreakers,” his jaw dropped. “And I’ve been trying to find her for weeks now, but I just can’t find them anywhere! I’m just hoping that she’s okay… That she’s still alive…”

“By the gods!” Julian exclaimed. “How long have you known her?”

“Twelve years,” I said. “Since we were six,”

“BY THE GODS!” he practically shouted in excitement. “Is she beautiful?” He continued to question me about Natalia, about my life, and about my quest, and for some reason, I continued to answer. This seemed to go on and on, until finally, Julian had run out of questions.

“Varen, my dear fellow!” he said once the last question had been answered. “You have given me much inspiration this night! Your story is truly magnificent, and as such, it must be shared with the masses! They must learn of your glorious tale, and I will be the one to educate them! I shall create my masterpiece, my magnum opus, my tour de force, if you will, around this story! Please, my dear friend, allow me to use your tale! I know it will help to take me out of this wretched state of existence!”

“Sure,” I said. If it really would end up helping him, I couldn’t see the harm in letting him tell my story. It’s not like I had some pressing use for it. I just couldn’t see people getting that interested in it, though of course I wouldn’t tell him that.

“Varen, you are truly the greatest! Even the celestials must envy your goodness!” he kissed both my cheeks, crying tears of joy. Once again, people were starting to look.

“To thank you for your kindness, I have a little information that may help you find Natalia! You see, legend has it that deep within the Crystal Cairns of the Edinar Mire, there lies a unique crystal containing the soul of the Soothsayer Iara! They say that she told a truth that was so powerful and frightening to her king that he had her soul trapped within a crystal as punishment! But if one can find her, she will answer any question asked to her with perfect truth! Perhaps she could lead you to Natalia!”

“Thank you for your assistance,” I smiled at him. I had never heard of Edinar Mire, nor the Crystal Cairns, but it was my only lead. If I were to find Natalia, I would have to use every resource available to me.

“But I must go at once!” Julian interrupted my train of thought. “I need to find a quiet place to write while the inspiration of your story is still fresh! Thank you for everything, my wonderful friend!” And with that, he bolted out of the store, plucking furiously at his strange little instrument.


I ended up spending what was left of my money on his meal, but for some reason, that didn’t bother me. I had helped a starving man, if only for one night, and hopefully, I had given him some way to escape his sadness and actually make his way in the world. If I had faith in Natalia being alive, why couldn’t I have a little faith in his success?


Now if only I could have that much faith in myself…


Bonus points or a cookie if anyone can figure out what instrument the Blue Bard is using.

Lady Moreta
2010-10-27, 02:16 AM
He seems a little bit like too much of a nice guy to be a thief, so that made me really curious about his backstory as well.

Heh, me too :smalltongue: I just made him up.


Plus, I just love the mental image of an average-sized halfling hefting a 5 ft human woman and dragging her to a window. While dramatic in context, I just find the mental image very entertaining.

Oh, I'm sure they looked funny. I'm sure Garret would have found it funny too, if it hadn't been so dire.


Bonus points or a cookie if anyone can figure out what instrument the Blue Bard is using.

Loved this! The Blue Bard is quite the character :smallbiggrin: Very entertaining and nicely light-hearted.

Is it a... harp? that's the only stringed lute-like instrument I can think of right now...

darkpuppy
2010-10-27, 06:24 AM
explain please?
:smallconfused:

Dark Sun, when run properly, can be one of the nastiest settings ever for DnD. Water gets tracked, arcane magic screws things up, and the wildlife's so nasty, they don't advise you to make one character, they advise you to make a set of around four... :)

big teej
2010-10-27, 08:25 AM
Sorry to hear about all that craziness you have going on in real life. Sounds like you've got a lot of work on your hands, and I hope that it doesn't get too overwhelming for you. You're making me scared of college now!:smalleek:



just don't volunteer to do the whole 15 minute group presentation yourself and you should be good to go.

(I made a deal with my group members that I would do the whole powerpoint if I didn't have to talk )

darkpuppy
2010-10-27, 11:04 AM
Okay, just trying to fit a random speech into a character for now, just as an exercise, but I think I've got it. Lemme know what you guys and gals think! The character's a Spring courtier/gangster in the WoD 2.0, St. Nikki (I couldn't resist...)


Bringin' Back The Joy
Or, St. Nikki is not happy

Slimy Pete's jaw seemed to ricochet under the fist that was connecting with it. This would seem unsual, except that Slimy Pete lived up to his name, owing more of his looks to frogs than people. Of course, this is not to say that it didn't hurt. Just that, no matter how much you hit Slimy Pete, he always bounced back. Which wasn't pleasing St. Nikki at all.

"Pete, I have this intellectual quandary." Pete, not the most intellectual of the Spring Court's shadier side, wasn't the most qualified to answer questions involving thinking, but then, St. Nikki wasn't interested in answers. He was too angry for that. He paced on his paws, his canines gnashing as he spoke, his eyes flared with rage.

"See, not that long ago, I was saying to my friends, 'Hey, Slimy Pete, he wouldn't try and sell me out to the Winter Court, spoil my little racket', but not only does he prove me wrong, he tries to have my ass hauled off by our thankfully absent ex-Lords and Ladies." Pete paused in his constant pacing to glare at Pete once more, who gulped. "Now this, as you might expect, makes me real unhappy. And normally, when I'm unhappy," his fist lashed out, and Slimy Pete's jaw bounced once more ", I hit something."

St. Nikki grabbed Pete's copious cheeks, and stretched them "Of course, the magnitude of what you did doesn't just make me angry," a kick this time ", it makes me furious, and even if I hit you" (a fist) "again" (an elbow) ", and again" (a knee) ", and again" (another fist) ", it's not going to make me any happier, because the sight of your face is making me angrier and angrier."

He gestured round, at the factory below them, where workers had earlier been busy making toys "See, this is what spring, to me, is all about. Pleasure, but transient pleasure. These toys," he continued, picking up a teddy bear ", are nice, they make kids happy, but" he paused to rip an arm off, a leg, and finally a head ", like all pleasures, they don't last. But they're dirt cheap, because we make 'em, and we want kids happy. But you, Pete. You don't want anyone happy, and this shows, because you broke the biggest rule in our lovely group, the one to which we all nominally belong."

St. Nikki pushed his slavering fangs in front of Slimy Pete's face for emphasis, and barked out every word, his fur bristling with rage "YOU DON'T SELL YOUR BROTHERS OUT, AND YOU DEFINITELY DON'T DO IT TO OUR SLAVEMASTERS!"

Panting with rage and effort, Nikki pulled himself back, straightened his suit, and sighed. Pete, normally just slimy, was now literally slick with fear.

"Pete, you could make all the excuses in the world, you could sweet talk me, but that still wouldn't get over the intellectual problem that, every time I saw your face, I'd get so mad I'd have to rearrange your face a few times just to be merely seething. So..." he pulled out a silenced 9mm, and levelled it at the wide eyed Pete "...I'm going to take a little pleasure in making sure I don't get angry again, and nobody's going to complain."

The shot rang throughout the empty warehouse.

St. Nikki sighed. He wondered if the Spring Court was for him anymore, with all the vile things he sometimes did. But then he smiled, as he held the broken teddybear in his hands, and it became fresh again. At least he made little kids happy, for a while, and he wasn't breaking any laws.

"Ho frickin' ho."

Keep in mind that this was literally a 10-15 minute job, from idea to post. Couldn't keep that idea out! :tongue:

Lady Moreta
2010-10-27, 10:59 PM
Different to your normal style, but I liked it. You got the vocal mannerisms across really well I thought - definitely sounded gangsterish. I was picturing him in a 3 piece pinstripe suit with a tommy gun and violin case :smallbiggrin:

You've got a few typos/grammar issues, but I suspect those have arisen from the speed at which you wrote.



Pete paused in his constant pacing to glare at Pete once more, who gulped.

I think you meant 'Nikki paused' :smallsmile:



more ", I hit something."

The comma is in the wrong place here (and quite a few other places throughout). It should be after 'more' and before the quotation marks. But I suspect this is just because you were speed-typing. And for something written that fast, it's very good.

freebiewitz
2010-10-28, 02:04 AM
You guys remember Mister the warforged rogue right? If so part 2 is here!

Am I dying? I don’t know. Am I fighting? I think so.

Years later.

The dragon was identified as Sky Scale, according to reports she favoured the skies more than the average red dragon. I had put that episode out of my head thinking that it was not needed, that it was illogical for me to seek revenge and for a time it worked. However as our fame grew in the land we began to attract more and more attention, from villains and allies alike. The local king had heard of our exploits and had asked us to slay Sky Scale whom was perched in the mountains to the west. He asked for our help, the surrounding towns had become restless and wanted the king’s army to intervene however the war prevented him from sending such help.

As we made our way on the road I noted all of my companions, though I know their behavioural patterns well I do not know of their past. Joran the cleric from what I gather was forced from his village and logically speaking I assumed it had something to do with his religious choices, Koras is the only one who makes his past open, he was a young warrior from his tribe and he decided to go out into the world to earn his tribe more honour and facing a dragon was a great way to do it. I had asked him about honour before, from what I gather it is a concept. Koras tells me that although I do not understand it my willingness to help others means I have it.

Then came Eric Mount, a small man who fought with his fist and feet, however through our travels we found that occasionally he would let lose a piece of magic on accident, letting loose a fireball when he became angry or summoning rain when he became sad. Joran tells me he is a sorcerer with much power yet little control a contradiction to the monk. The last person was named Sir Orantus. A knight in the kings service he joined our group when his senior told him to join us in taking a village back from a group of goblins. Though he insisted that he did not need our help he soon gave up and thus resented our assistance. However as time passed he began to respect my bravery and ability to follow orders to the letter.

We were all fast friends at this point. After Joran it is Koras who begins to trust me, his straight forward thinking melded with mine despite his reckless behaviour. He is brave, illogical and reminds me why humans are good. Next up was Eric, after saving his life on several occasion he simply accepts me saying that “There is no reason not to.” Although he cannot control his powers yet his mind is sharp and logical always meditating to gain control. Then came Sir Orantus, though mistrusting of my kind he soon begins to respect me. I thought that he would be the one to do this first because of his background as a soldier but this wasn’t the case.

This makes me think that he has fought other warforged before however it appears that my kind have not been seen for decades and Sir Orantus is only nineteen, thus logically speaking I would be the only one that he had met. Because of his age he cannot be sent to the front line to fight the opposing army however the king seems to have no problem with sending him to fight a dragon, another contradiction. It takes us several weeks of travel, I of course cook, everyone still has nightmares about when Koras tried to give it ago. These are one of the few times I am glad that I do not sleep, I have tried in the past but to no avail. I do not know why I had tried, sleeping wastes too much time, too inefficient.

Days later.

We are well on the road, everyone has packed the appropriate supplies, weapons, ammunition and rations. I myself have brought a small set of tools needed to carry out minor repairs. After all a shoe with a hole is no shoe at all. As we walk along the road we all chat about the previous adventures, about religion, politics and even about the uncertain future. However soon we have nothing to talk about. A dreadful atmosphere surrounds us. I myself am unaffected and for one reason. I enjoy what comes next. “Are we there yet?” Koras pipes up.
“NO!” Everyone yells unison. I myself join in for the fun of it.

Minutes later.

“Are we there ye-“
“NO!”

Minutes later.

“Are we-“
“DAMNIT KORAS SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP OR I WILL MAKE YOUR BALLS FALL OFF!” Yells Joran, the first to lose his composure.
“Wait can clerics do that?” He asks with a hint of fear.
“You wanna find out???”

Hours past but even then Koras forgets why he is quiet.

“Are-“
“I WILL-“ Red to the face Joran pulls his mace out.
“-You hungry? Cause I am!” Stopping I cook us all a quick meal of rabbit stew, the food takes away everyone’s tension. Even now Joran and Koras are slapping each other on the back laughing whole heartedly. Food is a strange substance, it gives organic beings the ability to continue, in more ways than one. Though originally apprehensive about giving me the duty of a cook the entire group finally accepted me when they admitted that they couldn’t cook themselves and the food that Joran summoned tasted like ass. I have yet to find an ingredient called ass. Many vendors laugh when I ask them where I could buy some fresh ass and how I could cook it. Why it is humorous escapes me.

Days later and to everyone’s relief we soon find ourselves at the base of the mountain just outside the town that resides there.

As usual Sir Orantus enters first, knights are well received here, next would come Eric, monks of his order are also respected. Then would come Koras, though brutish looking this far west people would not recognize his origin. After Koras Joran would come hiding behind the large barbarian, most people fear and hate his church. Then I would come last, after all I prefer to follow than lead, these days people treat me with curiosity rather than fear. Besides if I didn’t come last I couldn’t protect Joran from behind. It was both Koras and my job to hide him from full view.

It was okay if people caught sight of him from the sides but to see him from the front where his deity’s symbol showed could cause panic. Despite our best intention Joran was always against this idea. “Only cowards hide who they are! I am a follower of Nerul and that is who I am!” Nerul wasn’t evil as it was explained to me, he was actually neutral, thus evil people did indeed worship him but good people did to. After all to worship death is to also worship life. It made sense to some extent however if he wanted to worship life why not worship the goddess of life then? He responded with this. “Because the clerics of that order do not kill, sure they heal the wounded but to truly help a good person we must kill evil people!”

For a man who made sense, the fact that he wanted to tell the world that he worshipped death in a world against that idea made him seem illogical and human. I have nothing like that; though Joran told me I was alive I have yet to find anything illogical about myself. As we enter the village people begin to celebrate as if a drought has ended. “Oh you finally came!” they would shout upon seeing the knight and his companions. Everyone would flock around us asking us questions like. “Did the king send you?” Or “Are you here to fight the dragon?” And other questions along those lines.


Sir Orantus and Eric were both disciplined and answered all questions that they could politely. Koras boasted saying that he would kill the beast with one blow and Joran began to try and convert people despite my protests. Something was off, different. Looking around it seemed the town was intact; nothing was damaged just in bad repair as if people had left them alone too long. The dragon had destroyed my village in less than a day how was this place still standing? Shaking my head I realize it’s probably because the town is larger, better defended and slightly less flammable, the buildings here look to be made of stone from the nearby mountain. However despite all this I cannot shake this feeling.

Thinking I scan the buildings, then the people cross referencing prior encounters, at first I came to the conclusion that they were ignoring me. Humans have a strange habit of trying to ignore things that they wish to not exist. Normally people whom I am new to either ignore me or are interested in me, often asking Joran if I am his golem. However these people aren’t ignoring me, they literally cannot see me as if I do not exist. Joran is the next one to figure something is wrong, the people are crowding around him are not fearful at all.

“TURN!” He shouts repelling the ghosts with his holy symbol high above his head. Everyone at this point springs into action.

Sir Orantus and Koras soon find themselves back to back, a logical method of combat, covering each other’s blind spots. Their weapons however appear to have little effect. Though magical it seems that they only keep them at bay. They only fight for survival hoping that Joran will help them. Eric on the other hand is a different story. His fist keeps going through our transparent foes doing nothing at all. As his composure fades and his anger takes over he suddenly stamps down on the ground creating a sort of barrier keeping them at bay. With this respite we are safe.

Diving into the barrier I berate myself for doing so. They were not targeting me thus I had no reason to do so. “Joran, I recall that you have the ability to detect undead passively, it is illogical that you did not alert us, I ask why?” I say holding a flask of holy water. I do not even recall taking it out. He frowns glaring at the ghostly forms, his face asks the same question as I do. We do not know how Eric created such a barrier but when you’ve been working with him for so long you do not ask. Eric was a walking contradiction, he was always so calm and thoughtful, the only way he could use his powers were when his emotions became extreme. Thus when things looked bleak he would often make himself angry on purpose.

“Damn it, I can’t believe I was so weak as to resort to this!” He swears under his breath. Logically speaking it is the only reason why we are saved, why he continues to berate himself is beyond me. “So little self control.” He murmurs. As we stand there inside the bubble Joran begins to destroy the undead from the inside, soon they all back off realizing how futile it is. “WELL!” Shouts Koras. “I SAY WE CHARGE EM!” He smiles forgetting that his axe is almost useless against them. Putting my hand on his shoulder I simply shake my head. Suddenly Eric collapses and the barrier leaves.

“So…. Little…self…..need…. more….training…..” He mumbles. Lifting him up Joran tries to revitalise him, his healing spells appear to have no effect on him. “He’s just fatigued so he’ll be fine but I don’t have the spells prepared to wake him up.” He tells us. Almost on queue the ghosts return, our only protection against them gone. “TURN!” Joran shouts, a large portion of the ghosts flee but it is a temporary measure as the amount of undead we face seem infinite. However before they reach us something familiar re-appears.

The ghosts suddenly flee and burn as a wave of fire descends upon them melting the ground below. Even though we aren’t the targets we feel the heat from the flame. Looking up we find the source, it’s Sky Scale! My mind reels with a multitude of questions, why? Why!? WHY!? An arrow travels up at the dragon but she is too high up and instead finds the ground. I freeze, that was my arrow. Only wing beats can be heard. I look down, my arms, they appear to be malfunctioning, that is the only conclusion I can find. They shake and I cannot remember pulling out my bow never mind using it.

As I look back up I see everyone is staring at me only occasionally glancing at the dragon. “Tsk, wasteful.” Joran says. “You okay?” I look down at what Joran was referring to. The flask of holy water is on the ground and broken, its contents soaked into the ground.
“I believe that I am experiencing.” I cannot even finish it, everyone looks at me confused except Koras for some reason who looks at me with a sort of smile, this particular stance says that he is. Proud? It is not just my arms which are malfunctioning, my mind must be to. Is this what Joran meant when he said I would eventually die? Perhaps I am starting to decay now.


Sky Scale swoops down lower, everyone readies their weapon as I prepare a new arrow. I must wait until she comes within optimal firing range. However before we can do anything she speaks. “Greetings humans!” It bellows. “I am the dragon you people had come to call Sky Scale.” She says with some amusement.
“You wish to speak with us? Why do you not attack?” Sir Orantus shouts not lowering his sword. Joran at this point has Eric slung over him and is the only one of us without a weapon ready. It appears he is ready to flee with Eric, a logical choice since the monk is in no state to fight.

“I do not fight because I have a proposition!” She says smiling. “You see, I used to live in that mountain as a lord, the people would often come up and pay me taxes.” Looking away she smiles. “In exchange I only eat their livestock.”
“You blackmail them?” The proud knight yells. Despite being the youngest of the group Sir Orantus is what you would call the leader.
“Bah, blackmail such a dirty word. Anyways I am here because a stupid necromancer decided to turn them all into ghosts, I would’ve killed the bastard already if it weren’t for the fact that his lair is protected against dragons, besides if I leave my lair for too long who knows what would happen to my horde.” Looking back towards the mountain I assume that said horde is in that general direction.

“What do we get in return then?”
“Well as I understand it your wish for me to leave this place alone, since everyone is dead I have no wish to remain. As soon as you kill the necromancer I will have enough free time to relocate my lair and horde and yes I know you wish me not to kill innocents so if it pleases you I wish to take a lair from a blue dragon down the coast I hear he has quite the horde. This of course will take some time, so not only do I leave your people alone but a blue evil dragon is destroyed as well.” Logically speaking this is a sound offer but.

“This is only a short term solution at best!” I shout. “After you kill the blue dragon it is safe to assume that you will eventually fight humans once more.” A logical truth however looking at Sky Scale I find my bravery slowly fade away. Her immense size, the feeling of unbridled power, this is a mercy. We cannot defeat her, we do not even possess dragon slaying equipment! So why, why do I hold my bow so hard? I am acting illogical, I am acting outside of reason. I am acting human?
Days later
We have reached the agreement. Trekking through the mountain we soon find the necromancers tower as per the dragons direction. Me and Koras still object, Sir Orantus doesn’t like this but says it is the only way, Eric doesn’t seem to care either way but Joran seems ecstatic. “Haha that Necromancer won’t see us coming! Creating such abominations I’ll show him!” He yells pumping his fists. “That explains why I couldn’t detect them earlier, if it was just normal undead I’d be fine but I’m guessing this bastard had casted some sort of anti detection spell!”

Logically speaking it was sound, I should be thinking of plans right now, what siege weapons I could build on short notice. Instead I think of the villagers, how did this happen? When did this happen? Could it be stopped? Nearing the outskirts of the tower a sort of area is established. Nothing grew within a certain area of it and that’s where we hid amongst the bushes. Even these seemed sickly in comparison to the tree we had passed by earlier. “Lets just charge on through!” Koras yells. Sighing I quickly look at the tower to see if his out burst had alerted our enemy.

I see no signs of life, hopefully the mage had not yet found us though if he already had he was showing no signs of it. “This is a tower, an emplacement, we should have a siege weapon, squads maybe even a wizard and we don’t even have that!” Whispers the knight. “This is going to be difficult though considering the other path we could take it is quite easy I suppose.” Looking down at his sword he mumbles. Raising his head he stares at me. “Well if someone could get through without being detected they could theoretically open the front door and let us all through no? Someone who could not be detected by undead.”

Why was everyone staring at me?

Moments later.

Joran lamented that he wished to come with me however he had not prepared the proper spells to do so. Even if he did I would not let him come. Though he might’ve become invisible to the undead, to things that lived he was a lighthouse. I myself have the ability to remain slightly more subtle thus it was logical that I undertake this task. “I shall find a way inside and once in locate the unlocking mechanism for the gate, be prepared once that happens, I doubt my stealth can cover something such as that.” I tell them as I begin to leave. I feel resistance on my arm, turning back it is Eric.

“Hey, you might be the oldest of us all but the moment you think something is wrong you’re going to get out right?” It was strange, I knew Eric cared for my safety but for him to be more verbal about it seemed out of character. Now that I thought about it he behaved differently when he woke up from creating the barrier. Nodding my stance told him that I understood the risks. Joran refrained from casting any beneficial spells on me, the less magic I had casted on me the harder I would be to detect, however the fact that I’m powered by magic renders this argument useless.

Either way I do not see any reason for Joran to waste his spells like this thus I do not tell him. Climbing the tower I find that one of the windows is open. Climbing in I feel that I am being watched. Paranoia though in a world of magic it is not unheard of. However if I was truly being watched I would have been caught by now thus it did not matter whether I was detected or not at this point. Climbing down the stairs I noted the lack of undead.

Somewhere above the tower a crooked figure sits. It’s body was completely hidden in black cloak. If one were to look into his hood they would only see two glowing lights of blue as if eyes. Yet they did not blink. A raspy if monotone voice echoes throughout the empty chambers. “Just as planned.” A dry cough followed these words as the figure hobbled back towards a simple chair that seemed out of place. Sitting down he then slumped as if exhausted.

Machuchang
2010-10-29, 09:32 PM
Is it a... harp? that's the only stringed lute-like instrument I can think of right now...

Sorry, not a harp. :smallfrown:

To be fair though, the instrument is almost surely an anachronism in the standard D&D medieval world.




Bringin' Back The Joy
Or, St. Nikki is not happy


Man, this one was really dark::smalleek: To think that that was the guy who used to give me presents...

In all seriousness though, that one was very well done. The action was excellent, and the writing flowed very nicely. I never would have guessed that anyone could have written that in 10-15 minutes. I really enjoyed it!



Am I dying? I don’t know. Am I fighting? I think so.


I liked this one a lot. I liked the relationships between the characters, and I just loved the 'are we there yet' scene. But my favorite part had to be where Mister started to question if he was becoming human. I really love how his thought process changed Although there were some grammatical errors that threw off the flow a bit, the plot was interesting and the dialogue was well done. I loved how I could get each of the characters different voices when they were speaking. Great job.:smallbiggrin:

Lady Moreta
2010-10-29, 10:11 PM
Sorry, not a harp. :smallfrown:

To be fair though, the instrument is almost surely an anachronism in the standard D&D medieval world.

Yeah, I didn't think it was. My brain keeps wanting to say dulcimer, even though they're fairly big and I'm pretty sure have more than 4 strings. My brain is odd.

The Pressman
2010-10-30, 02:38 AM
Some sort of violin or viola? Those have 4 strings.

absolmorph
2010-10-30, 05:27 AM
You inspired me to write a bit about my first serious DnD character. He is, I believe, the worst-built, luckiest and tied for unluckiest character I've played.
And this is why he's lucky.

Running a City
or, Golem Tackling as a Method of Election

Ezlo rolled his shoulders, mentally thanking the gods that he could finally take off his armor. It wasn’t too bad normally, but spending two months in the wilderness clearing out monsters had left it with a very distinct, and not very pleasant, odor. Thankfully, a nights rest, a warm bath and some clean clothes had improved things. He’d ensured his kingdom pretty much ran itself most of the time, so there wasn’t anything in dire need of his attention.
Things had improved in the year since he’d been given the reigns of Evermonde. Not only had he trained most of the population so they would be able to defend the city in an emergency, but he’d also built a decent standing army. Fortunately, the dwarves were being patient, allowing him to ensure their attack on the giants would be fast, hard and clean.
He mentally thought over the events since he’d left home for the monastery. He was a very different man, now. He’d become a paladin, spreading good in the name of Thor. He had joined a group of adventurers, found an ancient weapon, been turned into a mouse (he got better), met with a queen and become a duke.
As he opened the door to his office, he wondered how his visitor would react to that tale.
“Ezlo!” his father cried, “it’s been too long, boy. I’ve spent the last two years trying to find where in blazes you’d run off to. You’d better have got some good stories to tell.” The two men embraced, father and son reuniting after 9 years. I have some stories, indeed, Ezlo thought. He opened his mouth to speak, but his father was already talking again. “This is a nice town. How’d you end up in charge?”
“Oh, now that’s a tale. Take a seat, I’ll have someone get us drinks,” Ezlo chuckled, directing his father to one of the chairs. He stuck his head out the door and asked a servant to fetch drinks, then returned to his father.
----------------
He and his companions had returned from their trip about a week ago. They had only felt a few weeks, but months had passed. The “gnolem”, as they’d taken to calling the golem they’d fetched, had been quiescent. It looked like a caricature of a gnome, with a red conical cap, white beard and green jacket. So, the gnome golem became the gnolem.
Unfortunately, Count Grasply had tasked quite a few sages with working out a way to control the gnolem. Ezlo had a strong feeling this would not end well. As he heard distant yelling, rushing feet and the clatter of guards rushing to a fight, he unhappily realized he was correct. Following the guards, he ran from the hallway he had been wandering down to the main hall of the castle. There, he found chaos.
The gnolem had used its gaze attack to turn many people into small woodland creatures - an unpleasant feeling, as he’d found out- and the guards weren’t even bothering it. Seeing the druid standing nearby, he yelled “Liquify the stone underneath it!” and ran forward. The druid, thankfully, had something she could use to accommodate his needs. As he ran, the stone beneath the gnolem turned to mud and it sank slowly.
Ezlo leapt and landed on its shoulders, somehow managing to balance himself, a tall man in full plate armor. It sank quickly, and as its head disappeared beneath the muck, he leapt away and yelled “I got him!” He barely got his feet out before the stone solidified again. He stood slowly and looked around for any authority. Seeing none, he started organizing the unharmed so they could clean up. There was, unfortunately, nothing he could do for those turned into animals.
Searches for the count were unsuccessful, which, oddly, made the people happier. The chefs prepared a feast that night, to celebrate the saving of Evermonde. The feast was heavy on meat, especially rabbit and squirrel. When Borc, the sorcerer, found the count’s insignia ring in his meat, Ezlo realized what- or rather, who- he was eating. Suddenly feeling unwell, he took the ring and retired. The next day, the people of Evermonde decided he was better suited for running the town than anyone else and declared him the duke.
----------------
“… and that’s how I became Duke Ezlo of Evermonde.”

The story about the gnolem is, in fact, how my level 4 Paladin became a duke. After he was turned into a mouse by said gnolem.
I'll right about his devastating one man charge against a kobold horde another time, when it's not 3:30 AM.

Machuchang
2010-10-31, 08:46 PM
Running a City
or, Golem Tackling as a Method of Election

Oh man! That story was hilarious!:smallbiggrin: I loved it! I really liked how you managed to tell the story from 3rd person point of view, and I really enjoyed the fight scene. Gnolem is a pretty genius name, and I was in hysterics about the missing count part. Now I really want to find out what Ezlo has been doing as count, and if he's been any better than the old guy. I'm also curious about his dad. Nice job!



I'll right about his devastating one man charge against a kobold horde another time, when it's not 3:30 AM.

That sounds like a story that I need to hear!


Yeah, I didn't think it was. My brain keeps wanting to say dulcimer, even though they're fairly big and I'm pretty sure have more than 4 strings. My brain is odd.

Sorry, not a dulcimer, though some lap dulcimers can actually have 4 strings. Hammered dulcimers (the big ones) tend to have much, much more though. (Sorry, I am a stringed-instrument enthusiast. I could probably keep going on about stuff like that. :smallredface:)


Some sort of violin or viola? Those have 4 strings.

Pretty close in terms of size and shape with the violin, but not quite there yet.:smallwink:


I've got some more snippets! They're a little out of order chronologically though. The first one is after The Blue Bard, the second is after Step By Step, and the third is a few days after the second. Oi, I need to sort these one day...



The Soothsayer in the Stone

(or Obligatory Prophetic Scene Here)

Finally, I had found her. Or it.

But I was here at last, though not without significant difficulty. The Edinar Mire was almost five days away from Kieselheim, and Julian had somehow neglected to give me any directions. Worse, no one actually seemed to know that the Edinar Mire existed in the first place. It was only by some miraculous coincidence that I had managed to find the damned swamp in the first place, and I didn’t even know it until I found a tattered map that told me so, still clutched in the stiff grip of an old corpse.

Even that paled in comparison to what I actually had to face in the bog, though. There was some strange, evil energy that permeated the Edinar Mire, and it didn’t see it fit to let the dead rest in peace. Zombies, skeletons, shadows, the Edinar Mire had it all. Apparently Julian had also somehow forgotten about that.

But none of that mattered now. I had survived, unlike many, and the stone prison of the Soothsayer Iara was here, right in front of me. I couldn’t help but smile, something that I hadn’t managed to do since I first got here.

The stone was surprisingly large, standing almost eight feel tall, though it was starting to tilt at an odd angle. It was covered in strange, obscure runes from which pale greenish-blue light glowed, illuminating the small cavern. But weirdest of all, the stone was suspended from the cave’s ceiling by a multitude of vines, roots, and other various plants. Fortunately, it was just low enough that I could touch it.

As I rested my hand against it, I felt a supernatural heat through my gauntlet, burning my hand. But I couldn’t pull myself away. Not yet at least. Not until I had my answer.

The stone seemed to glow brighter and brighter, and soon my vision began to swirl. Before I really realized what was happening, I found myself standing in some featureless void, characterized only by the glow of the stone.

Suddenly I heard a voice from behind me.

“What is it you seek, brave one?” I turned around in surprise to find myself face to face with nothing.

“Alas, brave one, I am not behind you. Nor am I in front of you, but all around. What you are experiencing is merely a vestige of my former glory, of my former self,” The voice echoed from all around me. “Speak, brave one, so that I may assist you,”

“Soothsayer,” I knelt. “I am searching for the Crownbreakers. They have stolen away my friend, and I must find her before…” my voice trailed off. I couldn’t even think of what would happen if I didn’t find her.

“Very well brave one,” Her voice thrummed inside my head.“The Crownbreakers lie a mere two days travel to the west. You shall find them in the Broken Peaks, and if you travel full speed, you shall find them just after they have set up camp. But beware, brave one, for many trials await you on your journey that may very well test your faith. Do not falter, for if you do, you shall surely fall…”

“Wait!” I shouted. “What sort of trials? Do not falter at what?” But even before I had finished speaking, my vision had once again begun to swirl, and everything went black.

When I finally regained consciousness, I was lying under the stone. The glow from the runes had been all but extinguished, and only a soft, flickering light remained. I pulled myself to my feet, filled with a new sense of hope, despite the Soothsayer’s foreboding words.

In only two days, I would see Natalia again.




No Use For A Broken Tool

(or Greenhill)

I finally realized the gravity of our situation when we came across the first destroyed city.

It wasn’t the fact that the town had been razed that got to me though. I knew which city this had to be, even though I couldn’t see it. And that did not spell anything good about the future.

Varen quickly confirmed my thoughts.

“Oh gods, Natalia,” Varen said, his voice choked. “This used to be Greenhill! I was just here a few days ago! Oh gods…” He gripped my hand tightly. I could feel it shaking.

Greenhill. It had once been a small little farming community. It was of no tactical importance, no political importance, hell, it was only important to the people who lived there. There was no reason why it should have been destroyed. Except…

“Varen,” I said, more softly than I had expected. “They’re heading for the capitol,”

I could feel his anguished gaze upon me. He must have thought that I was behind this attack. In a way, I guess I was.

Their target was according to Father’s final plans. The very same plans that were the first instructions Father had given me. I was explicitly told never to write them down, for fear of someone finding them out. That meant that someone in the Fear Legion must have had the ability to read minds, having stolen my thoughts before my fall.

Or there was another, far more frightening option. That Father was directing them. If that was the case, then it meant that he had simply discarded me as soon as I had fallen from power, as though I were nothing more than a tool.


Why didn’t I find that more surprising?


“Then we have to warn the King,” Varen’s voice was tense. “If he falls, then all of Geridia will fall as well! How much time do we have?”

“I don’t know, Varen,” I shook my head. “It all depends on how effective their new leader is,” Once again, I just couldn’t tell Varen the painful truth. Whether it was the Hearteater, my Father, or someone else entirely behind this, nothing would stop their march. Not when they were so close to finally overthrowing the empire. At most, we had one month. Probably much less.

As we left, I felt myself overcome by a strange feeling. Without even knowing why, I found myself whispering to the ruins of Greenhill.


“I’m so sorry,”


Trust in Your Senses

(or Acquired Flaws Give Bonus Feats Too)

We had finally found a town that had not been destroyed. I suppose that should have been a relief.

But to me, that meant that we had somehow gotten off track. We could not afford that. My blindness was slowing us down by way too much. If we were off the Fear Legion’s path now, there would be no way that we could catch up. Not at our current pace. I couldn’t help but feel useless.

Varen rubbed my shoulder, trying to be reassuring.

“Maybe someone here knows something about the Crownbreakers, or has a way to contact the Emperor,” he said with forced hopefulness. I could only shrug. I had no optimism to contribute.

As we walked through the town, Varen described everything around us, a habit he had recently acquired. I guess he thought it would help me feel as though I wasn’t handicapped. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it wasn’t really helping.

Then out of nowhere, I felt something bump into me. I almost fell, but Varen quickly brought me to my feet.

“Oh goodness! I’m so sorry! Michael! Apologize to that poor woman right now! You nearly knocked her over,”

“It’s no worry,” I mumbled, trying hard to be friendly.

“Did your eyes get stabbed out, lady?” I heard the voice of a small child. That had to be Michael.

“Michael!” his mother’s tone was horrified. I couldn’t help but smile a little at her reaction.

“Cuz there’s a special pond in the mountains that regenimates stuff! You could drink from it and get your eyes back!”

“Michael! Do not tell them about the Lake of Healing!” I heard a smack and Michael’s subsequent wail. “I apologize! But you really don’t want to go there! The lake is deep within the mountains, and it has been infested with monsters for years. If you go, you will surely die! Naughty Michael! Getting that poor woman’s hope up like that!”

I could feel Varen’s gaze. He was definitely thinking about it. I was worried, but if I had my sight back, we would be able to move twice as quickly, at least. This may very well have been the only way we could have a chance at beating the Fear Legion to Konne.

“Thank you,” I said to the woman. “But don’t worry, I’m fine. I’m sure Michael was just trying to help,” I smiled at them, trying to assure her that I was not harboring any thoughts of the mystical pond. “Now then, we must be on our way,”

As we walked away, Varen whispered to me.

“Do you want to go there?” he sounded concerned. “Because I’m sure I could figure out a way to get us there,”

“Of course!”

“I knew you’d say that,” he had to be smiling. I wasn’t quite sure why though.

We kept walking for a while, until we eventually ended up in a tavern. I was assaulted by the scents of alcohol, food, and vomit. The clamor of the bar seemed to die immediately as we entered.

“Hello,” Varen said awkwardly. “I’m trying to find the way to the Lake of Healing. Does anyone know how to get there?”

The whole pub suddenly burst into laughter.

“What, ya think yer jus’ gonna waltz in therr and heal up yer little lady, just like that?” I heard a man guffaw from next to me.

“Shuttup Klimt!” I heard a man shout. “Maybe he kin ac’shully do something’ about the place! Look! He’s a pal’din! He kills evil stuff fer a livin’!

“Ha! I doubt et! Look at that scrawny li’l bug! I bet I could kick ‘is arse real easy-like! He even has lady-hair!” I twinged.

“‘ey, pally-man!” the man ignored Klimt, turning his attention to Varen. “Come ‘ere! I kin drawr you up a map or summat!”

“I’m going to go to him, okay Tali?” Varen said.

“Go! I’ll be fine!” When I was sure that Varen had left, I turned in Klimt’s direction.

“So, Klimt, is it?” I was pissed off. “You think you’re a tough guy?”

“What’re ya getting’ at? You gon’ fight me?” he laughed derisively. “I’d like t’ see ya try!”

Well, let it not be said that he didn’t ask for it.

Somehow, I managed to pinpoint his position from his laughter. I balled my hand into a fist, then struck.

I felt flesh under my fist, then the shattering of bone. A loud crack echoed throughout the tavern, followed by the thud of a man falling from his chair. The whole bar went silent, except for the sound of a man sobbing.

Then the bar burst into laughter once again.

“Ahahaha! Oh gods almighty!” I heard the friendly man howling with laughter. “Klimt gone an’ done et now!”

“If you got your ass handed to you by a blind girl,” I hissed at Klimt, who was still crying on the floor. "Then imagine what my friend could have done to you! You should be glad he's such a damn good guy, because if he was anything like me, you'd be nothing but paste by now!"

I heard someone run over, then felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Oh gods, Tali,” It was Varen. He went silent for a little while. I realized that he must have been checking out Klimt. “You broke his jaw!”

As Varen laid hands on the still sobbing Klimt, I couldn’t help but smile.

Maybe I wouldn’t be so useless after all.

WhiteShark
2010-10-31, 10:40 PM
Mandolin? Seems likely.

Machuchang
2010-10-31, 11:03 PM
Mandolin? Seems likely.

Oooh, close. A little bit too likely though.:smallwink:

Lady Moreta
2010-10-31, 11:06 PM
Running a City
or, Golem Tackling as a Method of Election

Ezlo rolled his shoulders, mentally thanking the gods that he could finally take off his armor. It wasn’t too bad normally, but spending two months in the wilderness clearing out monsters had left it with a very distinct, and not very pleasant, odor. Thankfully, a nights rest, a warm bath and some clean clothes had improved things. He’d ensured his kingdom pretty much ran itself most of the time, so there wasn’t anything in dire need of his attention.
Things had improved in the year since he’d been given the reigns of Evermonde. Not only had he trained most of the population so they would be able to defend the city in an emergency, but he’d also built a decent standing army. Fortunately, the dwarves were being patient, allowing him to ensure their attack on the giants would be fast, hard and clean.
He mentally thought over the events since he’d left home for the monastery. He was a very different man, now. He’d become a paladin, spreading good in the name of Thor. He had joined a group of adventurers, found an ancient weapon, been turned into a mouse (he got better), met with a queen and become a duke.
As he opened the door to his office, he wondered how his visitor would react to that tale.
“Ezlo!” his father cried, “it’s been too long, boy. I’ve spent the last two years trying to find where in blazes you’d run off to. You’d better have got some good stories to tell.” The two men embraced, father and son reuniting after 9 years. I have some stories, indeed, Ezlo thought. He opened his mouth to speak, but his father was already talking again. “This is a nice town. How’d you end up in charge?”
“Oh, now that’s a tale. Take a seat, I’ll have someone get us drinks,” Ezlo chuckled, directing his father to one of the chairs. He stuck his head out the door and asked a servant to fetch drinks, then returned to his father.
----------------
He and his companions had returned from their trip about a week ago. They had only felt a few weeks, but months had passed. The “gnolem”, as they’d taken to calling the golem they’d fetched, had been quiescent. It looked like a caricature of a gnome, with a red conical cap, white beard and green jacket. So, the gnome golem became the gnolem.
Unfortunately, Count Grasply had tasked quite a few sages with working out a way to control the gnolem. Ezlo had a strong feeling this would not end well. As he heard distant yelling, rushing feet and the clatter of guards rushing to a fight, he unhappily realized he was correct. Following the guards, he ran from the hallway he had been wandering down to the main hall of the castle. There, he found chaos.
The gnolem had used its gaze attack to turn many people into small woodland creatures - an unpleasant feeling, as he’d found out- and the guards weren’t even bothering it. Seeing the druid standing nearby, he yelled “Liquify the stone underneath it!” and ran forward. The druid, thankfully, had something she could use to accommodate his needs. As he ran, the stone beneath the gnolem turned to mud and it sank slowly.
Ezlo leapt and landed on its shoulders, somehow managing to balance himself, a tall man in full plate armor. It sank quickly, and as its head disappeared beneath the muck, he leapt away and yelled “I got him!” He barely got his feet out before the stone solidified again. He stood slowly and looked around for any authority. Seeing none, he started organizing the unharmed so they could clean up. There was, unfortunately, nothing he could do for those turned into animals.
Searches for the count were unsuccessful, which, oddly, made the people happier. The chefs prepared a feast that night, to celebrate the saving of Evermonde. The feast was heavy on meat, especially rabbit and squirrel. When Borc, the sorcerer, found the count’s insignia ring in his meat, Ezlo realized what- or rather, who- he was eating. Suddenly feeling unwell, he took the ring and retired. The next day, the people of Evermonde decided he was better suited for running the town than anyone else and declared him the duke.
----------------
“… and that’s how I became Duke Ezlo of Evermonde.”



I enjoyed this :smallsmile: not sure why he had to jump onto the golem, unless it was to make sure it got swallowed up, but that's an awfully inventive way to save the day. I liked it :smallsmile:



Sorry, not a dulcimer, though some lap dulcimers can actually have 4 strings. Hammered dulcimers (the big ones) tend to have much, much more though. (Sorry, I am a stringed-instrument enthusiast. I could probably keep going on about stuff like that. :smallredface:)

Pretty close in terms of size and shape with the violin, but not quite there yet.:smallwink:

I didn't think it was that either. My brain is just odd.

Viol then. Or Byzantine lyra :smalltongue: (I am going to keep guessing until I get it right... perhaps you should just tell us).


Look! He’s a pal’din! He kills evil stuff fer a livin’!

Love this line :smallbiggrin:

Enjoyed all of them actually. I really like getting inside Natalia's head, and I'm totally ready to believe the worst about her father.

I have two in the works, but haven't had the time to actually finish either of them yet... I'm working on it.

Quincunx
2010-11-01, 04:40 AM
"Bringin' Back the Joy" rocks my socks, and I'm not even wearing socks. :smallcool:

In return, a clerical vignette I didn't remember writing, but recognized once I recently unearthed it, and snickered all over again.

Valentine's Day
originally posted here (http://www.themightypen.net/index.php?showtopic=6611)

We stood rank by rank in the audience, which made it easy to reach over and walk my fingers up his leg. Most of it was sheathed in polished plate-mail, but at the top of his thigh, somewhere near (my eyes faced obediently forward, but certainly not for the droning ecclesiastical lecture), there was chain jointing. . .here. I poked my pinkie finger through the links--thankfully, he didn't have hairy legs--then eased my other fingertips into other links, and barely clenched my fingers.

Our row lurched as he doubled over, I yanking my pinched fingers free and howling about some oafs and their shields, the poor sap on his right fracturing some bones as he caught a high-quality spiked mace atop his knees. He caught himself, one hand on his knees and bent over slightly still. My eyes were still facing obediently forward so I had seen none of this, once he turned his glare upon me.

"What do you think you were doing?"

I curled my lips inward to suppress a grin. "Trying to draw off some of your holiness. I'm deficient."

For a full minute he teetered between taking that as truth or sarcasm. Whatever the decision, his eyes went away for a moment, doubtless imagining some exquisite martyr's death for me (I saw him grimace). With some effort, he stood at attention again, eyes obediently forward and lower lip barely between his teeth.

"I'd like," he bit, "to see you stripped of your rank and title and armor, in front of all of us."

"I'm not wearing the undersuit either," I retorted, rolling one shoulder and making the plate clink as it didn't glide on cloth paddings.

For such a nippy day, he looked ready to have a heat stroke. Maybe it was better that he'd remain bent over. Maybe it wasn't as good that he had decided to forgo the paddings. Holy he may have been, but as a paladin, he needed a lot of work. . .and lucky chance, I was in a preaching mood. There was still time aplenty to convert him before he took his vows--he wouldn't be a paladin then, but I was doing the paladins' college an unpaid favor, there.

absolmorph
2010-11-01, 05:13 AM
Machuchang: I find 3rd person easiest as a style. And, honestly, I can't think of any other way to tell the story. It's just kinda inherently ridiculous.
I'm not sure who first said it, but "gnolem" was either a creation of one of the younger players in the group or the DM's. And, if you'd like, I can send you a PM about what Ezlo did and what the old ruler was like. It can't really be fit into this thread, though.
Also, his backstory never got to be really fleshed out, since that campaign has been on hiatus for 6 months (the meeting with his father was an idea for a framing device for the actual story, and never actually happened). Although, now that I think about it, that could make for another post...
Also, Trust in Your Senses made me chuckle.

Lady Moreta: Jumping on the gnolem was my split second idea for how to get its eyes covered by stone as soon as possible. It had a baleful polymorph eyebeam. It only fought in self-defense, but that still sucked. Especially when my armor rusted.

I'm glad my bit was well-received. I've started the next one, but I'm very sleepy and don't want to forget anything. All the ones I've read have been great ^.^

Lady Moreta
2010-11-02, 01:55 AM
"Bringin' Back the Joy" rocks my socks, and I'm not even wearing socks. :smallcool:

In return, a clerical vignette I didn't remember writing, but recognized once I recently unearthed it, and snickered all over again.

Valentine's Day
originally posted here (http://www.themightypen.net/index.php?showtopic=6611)

We stood rank by rank in the audience, which made it easy to reach over and walk my fingers up his leg. Most of it was sheathed in polished plate-mail, but at the top of his thigh, somewhere near (my eyes faced obediently forward, but certainly not for the droning ecclesiastical lecture), there was chain jointing. . .here. I poked my pinkie finger through the links--thankfully, he didn't have hairy legs--then eased my other fingertips into other links, and barely clenched my fingers.

Our row lurched as he doubled over, I yanking my pinched fingers free and howling about some oafs and their shields, the poor sap on his right fracturing some bones as he caught a high-quality spiked mace atop his knees. He caught himself, one hand on his knees and bent over slightly still. My eyes were still facing obediently forward so I had seen none of this, once he turned his glare upon me.

"What do you think you were doing?"

I curled my lips inward to suppress a grin. "Trying to draw off some of your holiness. I'm deficient."

For a full minute he teetered between taking that as truth or sarcasm. Whatever the decision, his eyes went away for a moment, doubtless imagining some exquisite martyr's death for me (I saw him grimace). With some effort, he stood at attention again, eyes obediently forward and lower lip barely between his teeth.

"I'd like," he bit, "to see you stripped of your rank and title and armor, in front of all of us."

"I'm not wearing the undersuit either," I retorted, rolling one shoulder and making the plate clink as it didn't glide on cloth paddings.

For such a nippy day, he looked ready to have a heat stroke. Maybe it was better that he'd remain bent over. Maybe it wasn't as good that he had decided to forgo the paddings. Holy he may have been, but as a paladin, he needed a lot of work. . .and lucky chance, I was in a preaching mood. There was still time aplenty to convert him before he took his vows--he wouldn't be a paladin then, but I was doing the paladins' college an unpaid favor, there.


Absolutely freaking hilarious :smallbiggrin: I loved it! This was just brilliant and funny :smallbiggrin:


Jumping on the gnolem was my split second idea for how to get its eyes covered by stone as soon as possible. It had a baleful polymorph eyebeam. It only fought in self-defense, but that still sucked. Especially when my armor rusted.

That makes sense, thanks :smallsmile:

And, finally, because Machuchang asked for it...


How Lyra Met Ket'Thull
from Lyra's point of view
(warning: rather long)

I’m hungry. I know it doesn’t help anything to dwell on it, but after three days of no food it’s hard to dwell on anything but. Besides, the kids are counting on me. If I don’t steal, they don’t eat. The merchants are getting wise though – damn them. I can’t risk stealing food directly, not any more. I have to find a mark. Someone big, clumsy and stupid would be good. I’m so hungry.

I’d been staring at the big half-orc for at least a minute before I finally realised what I was looking at. A big, clumsy and stupid mark. Perfect. Garret would be mad it’d taken me this long to figure it out. Garret doesn’t know what it feels like to be this hungry. Garret… no, best not to go there.

I slide to my feet and start towards him. Not directly, quick and quiet is the key. Don’t draw attention to yourself Lyra. Be careful. Be discreet. I weave my way through the crowd, using the sunlight reflecting off his heavy armour to keep him in my sights. He had a big sword too – really big. Wouldn’t want him to hit me with that. Wouldn’t want anyone to hit me with that. Would probably hurt.

Damnit woman. Concentrate!

I stop dead, letting the crowd move around me, ignoring the few annoyed voices as those near me are forced to weave around me. Focus Lyra, focus. If you screw this up, you’ll have to try your luck with the vendors again. And I really don’t think that’s such a good idea. From here I can see the stall run by the crazy halfling and his human partner. I’d tried to ingratiate myself in with him, even using his native language – thank you Garret.

It hadn’t worked.

Stupid halfling had I suspect, seen straight through me, and he’d had his hulking partner chase me out of the market. Jerk.

Concentrate. But I’m so hungry.

I started moving again and straight away found myself squinting. The big brute had taken his gauntlets off and was attaching them to his belt. And ahhh… there was my pay. There was a ring on his finger, and there, the musical sound of coins in a pouch. Looks like the big brute was planning to buy something to eat himself.

Now I need a distraction. Perfect. Those two fat merchants – they’ve never known hunger before. But they’re arguing about – who knows what. I don’t care, they’ll serve their purpose.

I duck around the two merchants, using their argument as cover to get me close to my mark. I snuggle right up close and -

“Hey! Watch out!” I’ve run straight into some fancy-dressed servant doing their master’s shopping. Without a word I vanish back into the crowd. My mark has turned his head, no intelligence in those eyes – but he doesn’t see me. No one sees me unless I want them to. I let the crowd swallow me and spit me out behind the half-orc. Safer to come from a different direction Garret always said. Garret…

The brute has tucked his coin pouch onto his belt right beside the gauntlets. How very obliging of him. Right. Now’s my chance. Duck to the left, sneak around behind this gentleman, thank you very much. And now come in again to the right. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Be careful. Be discreet. Don’t get caught.

The hand comes out and. …

I came to an abrupt stumbling stop. Something had my right hand in a vice-like grip. I looked up. And up. And up. I kept looking up til I was staring into the face of my mark. He’d caught me? He was certainly staring down at me, with an odd sort of – un-expression on his face. My that’s annoying. What was it Garret had always said? Don’t get caught Lyra, don’t get caught.

“Whoops…”

“That is one way of describing the situation.”

Oh damn… Did I say that out loud? I could feel the blood drain from my face and I knew I must look even paler than I usually do. Odd voice for a half-orc though. Deep, which isn’t surprising, but – compelling in a way. And very very calm.

A tug on my wrist and the deep voice spoke again

“Just what do you think you were doing?” Yup. It’s official. I’m in trouble. Think fast girl.

“I was… uhhh. I-” Oh, well done Lyra. Well done indeed. Idiot. I could swear at myself. I would swear at myself – I never have trouble talking my way out of a situation. I blame this on being hungry.

“Trying to steal from me?” Great. Now he sounds amused. Just what I wanted. To be some idiot half-orc’s comic relief. Lunch time entertainment. I’m not a bard damn it. Except he caught me. And no half-orc has ever caught me before. And they’ve tried. I would have to pick the only half-orc fast enough to catch a thief. Well done me.

“No!” I tried desperately for the sound of indignation – and would have found it too, if my voice hadn’t crackled on the last note. “I wouldn’t- I was… I…” my voice trailed off under his gaze. He was just standing there, staring at me. Knowing.

I give up.

I sighed heavily and my shoulders drooped. I’m finding myself close to tears, which is unpleasant. I haven’t cried since – since when? Mother? Garret? No, when I stubbed my toe the other day. Hey! It hurt! I’m so exhausted, and so hungry, and so…

“Oh hell…”

He laughed. Well, more of a chuckle really. But can you believe it? He laughed. Moron. Bet he doesn’t know what hunger feels like. Him with his ring and his gauntlets and his full coin pouch. It’s just rude really. Rude and impolite. It hurts my feelings. More than your stomach? The thought slams into my head with all the force of a raging, starving tiger – which funnily enough, is approximately how hungry I am right now. I’m staring at my feet, trying to emphasise how small I am. It works. His grip on my wrist relaxes and he speaks again.

“Now, how bad can things be that you’d try stealing from a paladin? We’re not noted for our valuables.”

No. No no no. Nonononononononononono. No. Not again. Horrified I yanked away, not again. Please not again.

The half-orc. The paladin pulled back. He was massive, I had no chance, and I knew it. His strength had me held in place.

“Hey!”

No no no… not listening. His hand around my wrist tightened and I panicked. Without thinking, I slammed my heel into his foot

“Yeouch!” Full plate. I forgot. Damn that hurt.

“Easy!”

The paladin tugged on me, oh no, I’m going nowhere with you. Mind destroyer. Family destroyer. I’m so tired, I’m so hungry. I’m never going to get away. Despair hit me full force, my mind was screaming Get away! Get away! I swung at him with my free hand. If I could cause a big enough scene, I could get free.

He grabbed my hand before it connected.

I stopped thinking.

I screamed.

He slapped a hand over my mouth.

“Calm down!”

Before I could take advantage of my freed left hand, he’d yanked on my right and had me pinned against him.

I kicked him in the shins.

“ENOUGH!” He hissed the word, and I could see in his face – anger, frustration.

He let me go.

“It is all right. I will not hurt you.”

I jerked backwards, desperate to get away and felt his fingers move against my wrist. He’d relaxed his hold. And then his words penetrated my blind panic. Will not hurt you. All I had heard was ‘hurt you’ and I already knew enough about that thank you very much.

I stared up at him, into eyes that seemed strangely gentle. My fingers uncurled from the fist I hadn’t realised I’d made. What on earth was this?

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I don’t- I didn’t mean…” I found myself trailing off uselessly. What was the point in talking? I was still caught. And a caught thief means an imprisoned thief. He shifted his weight, letting me go completely and folding massive arms across a massive chest.

“You didn’t mean to steal from me?” He sounded legitimately sceptical.

“Well, no… I didn’t mean to get caught” I stopped dead, hands flying to my mouth. What had possessed me to say that? Being hungry was destroying my better judgement. Destroying my ability to even think. I had to get out of here.

The half-orc paladin – what an odd concept – seemed to find that amusing, because he burst out laughing. I saw something else amusing. Nyn, Tel and Brin. They were hovering, hoping I could feed them, as they always did. A plan started forming. First, a distraction. I forced myself to pay attention to him again. Once again my mark.

“Well, an honest thief. That’s a new one. All right, little thief, what shall we do with you?” He keeps laughing… this is getting annoying. Okay, humour the half-orc. I can do that.

“You could just let me go” I peer up at him, doing my best to look adorable. I learned this from Terryn; she could turn men to butter just by turning on the ‘sweet and innocent’. It works for me – about half the times I try it. Bloody half-orc kept laughing. Plan B.

“I don’t think so, little thief,” he looked down at me, smiling. “I don’t think you’re really a bad person” – oh thank you so much. “Perhaps it would be best if you travelled with me for a time. Yes, that should keep you out of trouble admirably.”

I couldn’t believe it. He seemed smugly delighted with the idea. I was not. Time for more drastic action. I let my left hand slide behind my back, I knew the kids would be watching. I hastily curled my fingers around into the various signs and signals that screamed ‘distraction!’

“And exactly what sort of mission – quest… err, thing would a paladin be on that requires a thief?” I borrowed again from Terryn’s experience, putting as much cynicism and pertness in my voice as I could manage. All I needed was time, and I could already hear the sounds of the kids moving. The half-orc looked thoughtful. Good. The more time he spent thinking, the less likely he’d be to see what I was doing.

Nyn rant into him, going full-tilt and burst into noisy tears. Tel indignantly abused the ‘bad man’ in a shrill childish voice, while Brin skidded to a halt and started slapping at the armoured legs. Bless their starving little hearts.

I yanked my hand free from the loosened grip and jumped sideways, intending to dart past him. A flicker of hunger pangs shot through my stomach as I moved and I stumbled. And that damn half-orc was fast. He pivoted around and grabbed my shoulders.

I stopped, and my shoulders sagged. Was there nothing I could do to get away from this monster?

“You are going to be trouble,” he sighed the words. He looked like he wasn’t sure what he was doing himself. That made two of us. I still couldn’t understand why he hadn’t just thrown me over his shoulder and marched off with me. I knew he’d thought about it, I could see it in his eyes. I looked up at him, waiting silently. There wasn’t really much I could say any more. And for once, I was running out of ideas.

“Why are you so determined to get away from me?” He asked finally.” I’ve already told you I won’t hurt you.”

Resignation sucks. But what else was there? The kids had run off, and I didn’t blame them. Looks like I wasn’t going to be feeding them today after all. I can’t think, I can’t move fast enough to get away from this man, I can’t talk my way out of it. And all he does is tell me he’s not going to hurt me? And damn it if I don’t believe him too.

“I believe you,” I said finally. Wearily. Defeated. I’m too tired and too hungry to argue any more. Let him do with me as he will. “But in my experience being caught means only one thing. Trouble.”

That I was in trouble was the one thing I didn’t doubt. I just wasn’t sure where that trouble was going to land me.

“I have no intention of handing you over to the authorities.”

“You aren’t?” I sounded at least as stunned as he looked. Nice to know I’m not the only one being thrown off balance by this. Speaking of balance – why is he so tall? I took a step back so I could look at him without craning my neck. Why am I so short?

Nausea hit me hard, and my knees collapsed out from under me. I slipped on the dust and staggered sideways. Hands grabbed me and arms went around me and I was set back on my feet. The half-orc. The half-orc paladin – stepped back so I could see him clearly. He stood there, just staring at me, while I tried not to throw up on his feet. I’d caught glimpse of my reflection in water barrels, I knew I looked terrible. He looked like he was about to ask awkward questions.

“How long has it been since you last ate?” He asked finally. Yup. There goes that awkward question…

“A while…” I muttered, unwilling, or perhaps unable to admit the truth. Not to a paladin. Okay, so I doubted he was going to – do anything, but that didn’t mean I could trust him. And I wasn’t going to admit how long it had really been.

He snorted. Nope, not telling him.

He glared at me in exasperation. Not. Gonna. Happen.

He sighed, and his breath stirred my hair. I glanced up. Oh bugger…

“About three days,” I admitted, my voice barely audible.

Nothing. Silence. I looked up. He was gone. What?!

Clinking and the thud of heavy footsteps and he was back and dumping a … a loaf of bread into my hands. I started at it, I must have looked like I’d never seen bread before. I glanced up at him, blinking. Not crying. Nope.

“Thank you,” I said it so softly I’m surprised he heard me.

First things first. I turned around and whistled – code for ‘it’s safe’. Instantly, Nyn, Tel and Brin appeared, beaming up at me – eyes wide with a hunger far worse than my own, doing their very best not to rip the bread from my hands. I handed the bread to Nyn, grateful for once for my lack of height. If I’d tried to crouch or bend I’d’ve fallen on my face.

“Wha’ ab’t you?” Tel demanded. He’s the oldest of the trio, and takes his duties as ‘big brother’ very seriously. He takes care of the others and tries to take care of me. I grinned at him, plucked the loaf from his hands and tugged a small piece free. Popping it in my mouth (and then I nearly did cry), I said,

“That’ll take care of me. Go. Eat. And stay out of trouble!” That last was yelled at their receding backs.

I turned back and abruptly remembered the half-orc. I eyed him through my eyelashes, squinting up at him. He looked surprised. I felt myself squirming.

“I learned that from my first guild,” I muttered defensively. “Anything that sparkled or shone we could handle as we saw fit.” I paused to remember some of those lovely things that had sparkled or shone. “But food was first for those who can’t feed themselves.” I set myself then. Waiting for the ridicule, for the laughter of those who imagined thieves had no honour. No compassion.

“You have a good heart little thief,” he said finally. He looked a little troubled. Obviously he was one of those who thought there was no honour or compassion among those who transferred ownership for a living. Serves him right.

“I’d say thank you, but that won’t really help me much,” I commented dryly. A sudden idea then, worth a shot. “Now that you know I’m not completely evil, perhaps we can come to some sort of agreement? You don’t turn me in, and I will – behave myself.”

“No, I don’t think so,” his voice was quiet, and almost pensive, but there was no mistaking the unmovable quality. Drat. Well, it’d been worth a shot. Jail here I come.

“I think you should come with me. There is good in you, you simply need to find the right path.”

The right path? What the hang is that supposed to mean? Besides, I already have a path, thankyouverymuch.

“And you don’t think I have that path already?”

The bloody paladin burst out laughing. Again. I’m getting sick of that.

“Obviously not little thief!” He was chortling. At me.

Then he stepped forwards, til he was almost standing on my feet. Forcing me to tip my head back so I could see his face. Panic slapped at me, and I ruthlessly shoved it back down. Standing on his feet wasn’t an option. Diversions weren’t working. I was running out of ideas. But I’d be damned if I’d show him how much he intimidated me. How much he – scared me…

“I won’t turn you into the authorities; but I think I will insist that you come with me.” He stared down at me, with that un-expression I’d noticed earlier. Did he even realise how badly he was freaking me out? “For a time at least.”

For a time. Now what does that mean?

But… for a time… Eventually he’ll get used to me, and then I’ll have a chance to bolt. One chance, when I’m not starving, that’s all I’ll need.

“I can see I don’t have much of a choice.” I said, being sure to let him know I wasn’t happy about this. “Fine… My name is Lyra.”

He smiled at me, stepping backwards at the same time. Bastard. He did know what his – closeness was doing to me. He did it deliberately. Right. Fine. When I leave, I’m taking all his stuff with me.

“And I am Ket’Thull.” He introduced himself genially. I suppose he felt he’d won, could afford to be nice about it now. “Now, young Lyra, we have a long way to go. Perhaps we should see about feeding you, since you so kindly gave up your previous meal to the less fortunate.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

“Now that I won’t argue with.”


Also, Teej suggested I write something to make you go 'awwwwww'... here is my attempt. I think it may be less 'awwwww' inspiring than intended.


Baby Fix

“Silver, can you hold Tella for me?” I waited patiently until she approached and stopped in front of me. She made no effort to reach out for Tella, and I had to put the child straight into her arms. There was a flicker of emotion in her face – something dark, something angry and – anguished? As fast as it appeared though, it vanished. Her face softened and she shifted my daughter in her arms until the child was upright. She started walking in little circles, bouncing as she did. The dark emotions I’d glimpsed gave way to delight.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A baby. I had a baby. I caught one flailing hand in mine and held it in the classic aristocrat’s position. Then we danced around the room. I didn’t dare sing. Babies love to be sung to, but I simply cannot. I am tone deaf – as my teachers reminded me almost daily. Tella gurgled a happy baby laugh, and I beamed at her, pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

I was happy. For the first time since leaving Domoth. For the first time since graduating from the Ariaethus. For the first time I didn’t wonder where Terryn was, or why she had left. I was happy. And I had a baby.

She squealed a couple of times, as I moved into an old dance of Celadia. I had been told there were more opportunities there for one with my skills than anywhere else on the continent, so I was practicing. Tella wasn’t exactly the best practice partner, but she was absolutely the most adorable.

My dancing must have been too energetic for her, because soon enough Tella started yawning. Her tiny mouth opening wide and those little eyes scrunching up to nothing. I sat down on the big, soft chair reserved for those with the baby and nestled her into my side. Her blanket was draped over the arm of the chair, so I picked it up and wrapped her in it.

I adjusted us both, then started rocking slowly, rubbing her back as I did. I may not be able to sing, but there’s nothing wrong with my speaking voice, so I started telling the story of the king who loved his maid so much he gave up his kingdom in order to marry her. It’s a lovely story, and my voice is soothing when I want it to be.

I sat and rocked in perfect contentment. I snuggled into Tella, even as she snuggled into me. I pressed another kiss to her forehead as she drifted off to sleep. Even then I continued to rock, holding her close. Protecting her. I was happy. I had a baby.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Here, I’ll put her to bed” I reached down to take Tella from Silver’s arms. She tightened her grip and leaned away from me. I don’t think she even realised she was doing it. Startled, I took my daughter from my friend’s arms and put her in her cradle. Silver’s head came up so fast it almost made me jump. I cringed inwardly at the look on her face. All at once fierce, protective, caring – everything that made a mother a mother. And yet, full of rage and hate and fury. But behind it all, buried behind her green eyes, I could sense a sort of despair. A grief. It made me realise how little I know this new friend of mine.

It was late, and soon we too slept. I woke in the middle of the night to feed Tella, and I could hear a strange sound. Curious, I carried my daughter to the door of my bedroom and peered out. There was Silver, curled up in my big, soft easy chair, deep in trance. But it didn’t seem pleasant. Elves don’t dream as far as I know, but she seemed caught in the throes of a nightmare nonetheless. She was crying – I didn’t realise she knew how. Silver is cold-hearted at the best of times. But she wept, begging and pleading for ‘them’. She wanted someone to bring her ‘them’ and it appeared ‘they’ didn’t, for she got angry and violent. Tossing and thrashing.

I stared dumbfounded, not sure whether I should wake her or not. Tella snuffled in my arms, and I looked down at her sleepy face. I remembered the look on Silver’s face, as she held my baby girl, and when I took her away. Suddenly, I thought I knew what it was Silver so desperately cried out for. Moving as quietly as I could across the dirt floor, I approached the chair where she sat in trance. Ever so gently, I reached out and laid Tella in Silver’s arms. The affect was instantaneous and almost frightening. Instantly, she wrapped her arms around my baby and curled protectively over her. Even in trance, she rocked back and forth, and a mumbled croon came from her lips.

I sat on the floor at her feet, just in case Tella started to cry and woke my friend.

“What did they do to you my friend?” I whispered, touching Silver’s knee with one finger. “What child of yours was stolen?”

I kept a vigil that night. On the outside I was calm. On the inside though… on the inside, my heart was breaking.

Machuchang
2010-11-03, 12:43 AM
Valentine's Day
[SIZE="1"]originally posted here (http://www.themightypen.net/index.php?showtopic=6611)

Oh man... :smalleek::smallredface::smallbiggrin:

That was glorious! Short, but filled with impact, and incredibly hilarious. I love the narrator's attitude, naughty, witty, and slightly sardonic. I'm also amazed at how much detail you were able to evoke with just a few carefully placed details, without ever being explicit, and I just can't help but wonder what happened afterwards. Besides that, I derived a whole lot of schadenfreude from that poor paladin's position, and now I feel I little bad.:smalltongue: Fantastic work.




How Lyra Met Ket'Thull
from Lyra's point of view

Thank you!:smallsmile:

That one was excellent! I really loved being able to see things even more from Lyra's perspective, and I just loved how prominent her spunky personality was. You also did an excellent job with her hiding things from the reader, whether successfully or not, which added another dimension to the story for me. This one also met the 'awwww...' bar quite nicely, with her actions towards the children. But now you've got me wondering what happened to Garret and why Lyra is afraid of paladins! Lyra is really a fascinating character, and I just love getting into her head. Keep up the good work.:smallbiggrin:




Baby Fix


Now if How Lyra Met Ket'Thull from Lyra's point of view met the 'awwww...' bar, this story broke the bar, then kept rising until it went back around to hit the bar again. And yes, I do realize that is not physically possible, and probably not theoretically possible either, but oh well.:smallbiggrin: Great job! I really admired how you managed to tie in the mystery of Silver's daughter all the way back with Why Girls Shouldn't Kiss, and I just keep getting more and more sucked in by Silver's past and the world she lives in.

I am curious who the mother of Tella is though, and I couldn't help but wonder if the Terryn that Silver knew happened to be the same Terryn that Lyra mentioned in her snippet...


And I've got another snippet. I tried to write the set up for it, but it just didn't flow well and it fell into too many of the issues I had with Defiance. But basically what happened is that Varen fought a half-orange dragon gargantuan amphibious aboleth that was living in the magic lake, fell for some illusions, got slammed into the floor, slapped, scratched, exploded, lit on fire, crippled, slammed into the floor again, eaten, and shredded before cutting his way out of the aboleth's throat, killing it. Then Natalia drank from the magical lake...


Old Scars Never Heal
The first thing I saw was Varen.

He was covered in grime, slime, ash, sweat and blood. He could barely stand at all, and he was leaning heavily on his longsword. His armor appeared to have been torn off by some sort of explosion, revealing his torso and arms. I was shocked and dismayed at what I saw.

Countless fresh slashes, bruises, and burns were spread all over his body, and blood was flowing freely from his mouth. I could even see pieces of shrapnel from his armor embedded in his flesh. But beneath all of that, there was so much worse.

Scars. Hideous scars that could only have been from torture. Lash marks, stab wounds, flensed skin, rope burns, he had them all. And they were everywhere. From what I could see, only his face had been left untouched.


Those were Crownbreaker methods.


I found myself overwhelmed by a flood of emotions. Shock, rage, and frustration fogged my mind. I felt horrible.

And then he smiled.

I couldn’t stand it. How could he still smile after all of that? After the aboleth, after the torture, after everything? I just couldn’t stand it!

I hit him.

I slammed my fist into his cheek. Probably not the smartest move given his current condition, but I wasn’t thinking straight. He hit the ground and stared at up me, a stunned expression on his face. He didn’t even have any idea that something was wrong. Even though I knew that he couldn’t have known, at that moment, it didn’t matter.

“GODS DAMN YOU!” I screamed at him. “GODS DAMN YOU, VAREN!”

“Tali?” he sounded concerned. Concerned for me still. I had just hit him, and he was still worrying about me! “Is everything all right?”

“NO!” How could he not understand? “LOOK AT YOURSELF! LOOK AT YOUR WOUNDS! LOOK AT THOSE DAMN SCARS! IS THAT WHAT HAS BEEN HAPPENING TO YOU? HAS ALL OF THAT BEEN FOR ME?”

“Yes,” he said as he struggled back to his feet. And he said it so simply too. As though everything that had been done to him didn’t matter in the slightest. That just made me angrier.

“WHY?!” my voice echoed throughout the cavern. “Gods, Varen… Why? Why did you let that happen because of me? Why didn’t you just give up?” Why was I starting to cry now? Gods damn him…

Varen gently grasped my hand and stared me straight in the eyes. .

“Why?” he was so weak that he had to lean against me just to remain upright. “Because through it all, through all the pain, through all the fear, I kept telling myself that I would be there for you. That I had to be there. And when compared to that, all of that pain and that fear didn’t mean anything to me anymore, because I knew that nothing would stop me from getting to you,”

I was crying harder now.

“If you keep this up, you’re going to die you idiot! Then what? I don’t want you getting hurt over me!” I tried to choke back my sobs. “I don’t want you getting hurt ever!


"Dammit Varen, I love you!”





Viol then. Or Byzantine lyra :smalltongue: (I am going to keep guessing until I get it right... perhaps you should just tell us).


I don't think I'll reveal the Blue Bard's instrument just yet. I'm positive someone will figure it out soon...:smallamused:

Though I'll give another hint. It's not bowed.

Lady Moreta
2010-11-03, 03:20 AM
Thank you!:smallsmile:

You're welcome :smallsmile: That one took me a while to write, Lyra kept arguing with me :smallamused:


You also did an excellent job with her hiding things from the reader, whether successfully or not, which added another dimension to the story for me.

It wasn't intentional, but I'll take the compliment anyway! Well, I suppose it was sort of intentional... she was trying to hide things from Ket'Thull after all.


But now you've got me wondering what happened to Garret and why Lyra is afraid of paladins!

For the first, your guess is as good as mine :smalltongue: I have started a snippet that answers that, but haven't looked at it in a while, and I rather suspect both Lyra and Garret are going to fight me on it.

Second question - will partly be answered by the previously mentioned snippet. Short answer - the only paladins she's had any experience with previously are the crazy-ass Miko variety.


I am curious who the mother of Tella is though, and I couldn't help but wonder if the Terryn that Silver knew happened to be the same Terryn that Lyra mentioned in her snippet...

*fights the urge to go 'awww' again*

Thank you :smallsmile: I too am curious who Tella's mother is. I never bothered to name her. Terryn - sort of is and sort of isn't the same person. She is actually a character I came up with for the purposes of writing a story set in the same world as Silver (homebrewed setting by my husbandDM). I may in fact turn her into a character if Silver ever kicks the bucket and can't be brought back. I started writing the snippet from Lyra's perspective and felt the need to explain why she tries the 'cute to get out of trouble' thing and why it only works sometimes. I figured she learnt it off someone for whom it does work all the time. So, a bard essentially - someone for whom diplomacy and sweet-talking is second nature. And as Terryn is a bard (with some levels of rogue) I figured that would work. And I was too lazy to come up with another name. Also, the DM of the pbp game has never really identified the world we're in, so for purposes of my story in my head, it's the same world :smalltongue: Therefore it's perfectly reasonable to assume that it's the same Terryn.

But mostly, I was just being lazy.

Also, technically Silver doesn't know if her daughter is a daughter or a son. She never found out. The succubus thing was DM fiat (and you know, because it was a succubus). Tella being is a girl is completely because my pastor and his wife have an adorable 6 month old baby girl, so whenever I think 'baby' currently, I think of her. She is literally, the cutest baby I've ever seen. All babies are cute, she really is exceptionally adorable. And that's not just the bias of an honorary aunty :smalltongue:


a half-orange dragon gargantuan amphibious aboleth that was living in the magic lake, fell for some illusions, got slammed into the floor, slapped, scratched, exploded, lit on fire, crippled, slammed into the floor again, eaten, and shredded before cutting his way out of the aboleth's throat, killing it.

Duuuuude... that is one hardass paladin. Half-orange though? I didn't think dragons came in that colour :smallconfused:


*snip*

Damn. Just damn. That was utterly brilliant. You create fantastic word pictures. I can just see Varen through Tali's eyes, and hear his voice in her ears. The torture thing hints at something you've not mentioned before (at least I don't remember it coming up) which makes me want to know more. You are really sucking me in to these two.

I don't know if it was your intention or not, but I'm very impressed at how you manage to suck me into Varen's story by writing from Natalia's perspective. It strikes me as unusual, but I really like the way it works.

I am also delighted she can see again... though I get the feeling she's not altogether happy about it.


"Dammit Varen, I love you!”

No. You can't have him. He's mine :smalltongue:


I don't think I'll reveal the Blue Bard's instrument just yet. I'm positive someone will figure it out soon...:smallamused:

Though I'll give another hint. It's not bowed.

You're enjoying this way too much :smalltongue: Ukelele?

Machuchang
2010-11-04, 12:16 AM
For the first, your guess is as good as mine :smalltongue: I have started a snippet that answers that, but haven't looked at it in a while, and I rather suspect both Lyra and Garret are going to fight me on it.


I look forward to maybe seeing it then.:smallbiggrin:



Also, technically Silver doesn't know if her daughter is a daughter or a son. She never found out. The succubus thing was DM fiat (and you know, because it was a succubus).

I find Silver not knowing very curious, and now I want to learn that story even more!



Duuuuude... that is one hardass paladin. Half-orange though? I didn't think dragons came in that colour :smallconfused:

Yep, they're in the Dragon Magazine Compendium. They spit black goop that explodes. My DM loves his splatbooks.



Damn. Just damn. That was utterly brilliant. You create fantastic word pictures. I can just see Varen through Tali's eyes, and hear his voice in her ears. The torture thing hints at something you've not mentioned before (at least I don't remember it coming up) which makes me want to know more. You are really sucking me in to these two.

I don't know if it was your intention or not, but I'm very impressed at how you manage to suck me into Varen's story by writing from Natalia's perspective. It strikes me as unusual, but I really like the way it works.

I am also delighted she can see again... though I get the feeling she's not altogether happy about it.

Yep, all of those were my intentions, so its great to know that I managed to pull them off.:smallbiggrin: Thanks a lot!



You're enjoying this way too much :smalltongue: Ukelele?

You got it!

Enjoy your cookie. And 5 bonus points too. :smallbiggrin:

Lady Moreta
2010-11-04, 02:13 AM
I find Silver not knowing very curious, and now I want to learn that story even more!

I posted it a while ago :smalltongue: the thing was that as soon as she gave birth she was a little spaced out and her mother took the kid without ever telling her. Hence she doesn't know if it was a boy or girl.

Story can be found here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9415393&postcount=73)


You got it!

Enjoy your cookie. And 5 bonus points too. :smallbiggrin:

Wooo! A cookie! And bonus points! :smallbiggrin::smallbiggrin:

And when I think about it, I can't believe it took me this long to figure out :smallsigh: would you believe I actually resorted to google to come up with the viol & lyra... but when you said it wasn't bowed, ukelele was the first thing I thought of. I googled it just to make sure it only had four strings :smallbiggrin: