PDA

View Full Version : Journal D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting



Pages : [1] 2 3

Dr Bwaa
2011-12-02, 04:31 PM
Since the original thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=166503) is now languishing in the obscurity of the archives, and I really enjoyed it and have plenty more snippets to write, I'm reinventing the snippet. I'm in the process of done cataloging the snippets from the old thread by author/storyline. It's about halfway done! New stuff posted in this thread will be added right away.*
*Where "right away" means "as long as it takes me to get around to it."

For those of you who didn't see the stuff in the first thread, definitely go check it out. There's some great writing there, stories to make you laugh, cry, go "awwww" and go "uhhhh..." :smallamused:

I am also doing my very best to comment on every snippet posted here. If you'd prefer I didn't critique your work, let me know!

And one last thing before the Big List: I developed a very simple tool to look at your text and tell you some things about it (like if you have tons of sentences that are way too long, like I always do). It is available here (http://bit.ly/10YxwFc)! Please feel free to PM me with bug reports or feature requests, or just to tell me if you used it and found it helpful!

TL;DR: Post your own snippets here, and give critiques on others'! All systems are very much welcome!


Okay, here goes. I'll try to keep this list updated as best I can; let me know if I miss you, or if I have typos/broken links (I know I must), or if there's a better campaign/snippet name than the one I'm using. :smallsmile:


Running A City (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9662338&postcount=239)
Burning the Man who Burnt Us (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9935427&postcount=307)

Virei Goldeneyes
Possession of a Swordmaster (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10272391&postcount=334)
Not the Holiest of Retribution (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10783839&postcount=405)


Crossroads
Untitled (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=16588028&postcount=575)


Discovering Potential* (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14058140&postcount=310)

Making Strange Bedfellows*
Part 1 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13928738&postcount=268)



Maleidolon (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9935772&postcount=308)



Among Those You Belong (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9467944&postcount=102)


Dragonfire (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=16824073&postcount=584)
Ambition (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=17452157&postcount=601)

Sariel Blackbriar
The Bleak Plains (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15701424&postcount=463)

Caelynn Duskember & Friends
Divine Redemption (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15861976&postcount=506)
The Roguish Type (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15877190&postcount=512)



A Day in the Life of Sohn of the Riverheart (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9287795&postcount=29)
Roche's Letter to the Order #1 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9401680&postcount=54)
Gohk and Grok: The First Installment (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9414056&postcount=71)
The Death of Valek (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9560229&postcount=169)
Tylndyr's New Eyes (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9724899&postcount=261)
Blacklist's First Jailbreak (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10183214&postcount=330)
Vaul Krieger's Origin (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10470836&postcount=359)
Adventure 1, Rescue the Unicorn (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10553219&postcount=375)
Guhingir's Tale (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10925585&postcount=438)
"It's Not Yours to Take, for I am in Your Way" (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10927278&postcount=443"[/url]Baroi, Duskblade[/url]
[url="http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10951755&postcount=448)
The Extermination of the Draken Tribe (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11050626&postcount=472)
It's In the Vents (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11284128&postcount=509)
A Hard Day's Work (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11882605&postcount=573)

Cog Skulltaker
Just How Did Cog Skulltaker Get his Axe? (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10769817&postcount=394)
The Fight in the Mountains (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11084346&postcount=474)

Marc Incarnate
Marc's Background (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10769817&postcount=394)
Untitled (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10799213&postcount=409)

Gideon
Gideon's Tale (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9783919&postcount=280)
To Rescue a Prince (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10553219&postcount=375)



The Kender of Infinite Capacity (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9379935&postcount=48)
AGGGGHHHH! (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9464972&postcount=99)
Unorthodox Solutions (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9466561&postcount=101)
Two Sides (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9581929&postcount=184)
A Legend Begins (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9592211&postcount=196)
Bringin' Back the Joy (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9642951&postcount=233)
The Axenshield Brothers: A Remembrance (As Told to Volothamp Geddarn) (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9728025&postcount=267)
A Slight Predicament (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9805859&postcount=288)
Calculations (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11276002&postcount=505)

Challenge: Steampunk Elf
The Finest Automata (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11190084&postcount=498)

Sir Miguel Don Esteban De Sutek
A Strong Arm and Sharp Eye (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11027810&postcount=465)

Finlay Houlihan
Opposite (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11027810&postcount=465)
Good Craic (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11027810&postcount=465)
Lamb of God (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11089286&postcount=477)
Judgement (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11190084&postcount=498)


Barnabus; Atomsk
The Beginning (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15880905&postcount=513)


The Wanderers
Much to Forgive (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11725519&postcount=546)
Blowing Off Steam (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11731096&postcount=564)
Enough is Enough (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11731096&postcount=564)
Obvious Trap is Obvious (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11744248&postcount=567)
On the Road (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11744248&postcount=567)
Revelations 5:6 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12518881&postcount=9)
The Renaldwatch Massacre



Diversion (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12342677&postcount=7)
Silent Night (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12623880&postcount=16)

Outrage at Joseph's Gap



Welcome to Joseph's Gap (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12924541&postcount=47)
Shopping (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13046788&postcount=61)
Sacrifice (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13097147&postcount=77)
Inheritance (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13391688&postcount=126)
Mist and Light (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13681623&postcount=163)
Slime, Muck, and Filth (Part I) (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14875423&postcount=378)


Isra, Necromancer
Dark Interrogation (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12315162&postcount=2)
No One Likes a Paladin (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12331449&postcount=5)

Tales of Laelah Vrenn
A Very Special Girl (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14015766&postcount=296)
Laelah's Test (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12315162&postcount=2)
Test Results (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14290395&postcount=343)

Enor Ariled, Gnomish Hunter
How to Make a Racist (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12971931&postcount=58)

Brygar, the Wanderer
Backstory

Part I: Death (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14055695&postcount=309)
Putting Out to Sea (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14404341&postcount=353)

Frontstory

Hunt (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13217970&postcount=108)
Hartlib Gwynek (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=16150188&postcount=563)


Nu Miaplacidus
A Surplus of Neighbors (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=17748324&postcount=606)
The Noblest of Creatures (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=18081834&postcount=609)
Not a Drill (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18617359&postcount=616)
A New Hope (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18617359&postcount=616)


Kingdoms Will Fall
Chapter I (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13569661&postcount=154)
Chapter II (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13609653&postcount=158)
Chapter III (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13778790&postcount=199)


Diane
Untitled (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13727040&postcount=169)

Anjer
Untitled (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15539264&postcount=417)


Why I Hate Charm Person (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14000301&postcount=293)


William and Friends
Odd One Out (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9288976&postcount=31)
William and the Orb (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9288976&postcount=31)
Just As Planned' (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9294855&postcount=34)

Mister, Warforged Rogue
Am I Alive? I Don't Know. Am I Awake? I Think So. (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9570837&postcount=175)
Am I Dying? I Don't Know. Am I Fighting? I Think So. (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9648628&postcount=235)


On the Liberation of Man, or, The Failings of Pride (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14190259&postcount=320)


Marigolds (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13746962&postcount=181)


Untitled (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13131611&postcount=95)
A Matter of Scale (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13492833&postcount=137)


The Tale of Daniel the Quick (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13532742&postcount=148)

The Calm, The Storm (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15588652&postcount=423)

Felix (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15700832&postcount=462)

The Traitor
Part 1 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13527737&postcount=144)

Tucker Aurelius*
Untitled (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15192956&postcount=405)


The Celadians
Why Girls Shouldn't Kiss (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9260416&postcount=1)
Don't Mess With Those Who Can Mess Back (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9260416&postcount=1)
A Paladin's Pain (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9260416&postcount=1)
Damn Charis (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9288898&postcount=30)
Please Help Me Fix It! (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9409013&postcount=66)
A Change of Name (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9415393&postcount=73)
The Fire Elemental (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9453210&postcount=80)
Baby Fix (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9680550&postcount=246)
Poniard of Death (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10130440&postcount=328)
Of Headaches and Friendship (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10558719&postcount=376)
Cast of Characters (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10752328&postcount=384)
Hang on Silver! (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11692054&postcount=527)
Enter the Iasavites (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11707253&postcount=533)
A New Name (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13773510&postcount=196)
Untitled (Lester) (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13779272&postcount=200)
Untitled (Silver) (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13789559&postcount=204)

Lirrin and Co.
Letters Home (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9396484&postcount=51)
Growing Pains (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9505119&postcount=146)

Lyra
Lyra (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9506201&postcount=148)
The Bartender (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9524412&postcount=162)
How Lyra Met Ket'Thull (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9599150&postcount=203)
How Lyra Met Ket'Thull (Lyra's POV) (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9680550&postcount=246)
Unexpected Friend (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9605691&postcount=207)
The Buddy (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9633307&postcount=222)
Defiance (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9727407&postcount=266)
ALONE (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10946603&postcount=444)

Rosalind Armstrong
Rosalind Armstrong (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9570210&postcount=174)

Tela
Growing Up (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9820707&postcount=293)

Terryn
Bluff, Bluff, Bluff the Rest of the Party! (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9892958&postcount=295)

Sarai Barden
Sarai Barden (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10403739&postcount=353)

Leith
Leith (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11022671&postcount=464)

Dena Sorbonne
Backstory x2 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11418893&postcount=516)

Lyre
Pain (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11721821&postcount=542)
Walking Wounded (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11907023&postcount=574)

Leonora V'lez
Leonora's Backstory (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13804953&postcount=209)


Tanner Wolf
Don't talk, Henchman (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9267018&postcount=9)

Eric the Red
The Tale of Eric the Red (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9904309&postcount=298)


Lelk
Healing Atop the Towers (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10470890&postcount=360)
How I Killed Two Party Members by Inventing the Dirigible (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10551160&postcount=372)
The Tale of the Twice-Fought Hydra (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10949160&postcount=445)
Prince Lelk and the Field of Holes (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11478078&postcount=522)
How Lelk Found a God (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11762703&postcount=568)

Challenge: Steampunk Elf
The Smell of Smoke (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11186778&postcount=493)

Alixanda Thrune
Three Quotes (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15871108&postcount=509)



There is no Order without Punishment (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10386581&postcount=340)
Embrace (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13626567&postcount=161)
Pride (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13827645&postcount=217)
Frustrations (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=17372294&postcount=599)
Analysis (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18494582&postcount=615)

Challenge: Steampunk Elf
Soot & Smoke (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11187161&postcount=494)

Changeling
Monster (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10835463&postcount=427)
Complicated (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11791990&postcount=569)

The Tales of Jade "Twitchy" Manydeaths
Chaos Theory (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9274595&postcount=23)
Spider Bard (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9274916&postcount=27)
Ladies Love Scars (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9307516&postcount=36)

Endeca Spellweaver, Chaos Magus
ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9411709&postcount=69)
Innocence (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9452763&postcount=77)
Snuggles (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9459797&postcount=91)

Francis & Tialla
Steel Song (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9955995&postcount=311)
Glory (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11098748&postcount=481)

The Host of a Thousand Princes
Part I (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10760420&postcount=386)
Part II (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11014983&postcount=459)
Part III (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11917059&postcount=578)
Part IV (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11947489&postcount=589)
Part V (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13756529&postcount=183)

Kristina (the Kinslayer)
Visitation (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13102267&postcount=80)

Skyrim
Pragmatism (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13118953&postcount=93)

Kaolin Indigo
Justice is Dead (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13524411&postcount=142)

Nail*
The Moontown Massacre (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15012565&postcount=385)

Sir Varren
Misery (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15886641&postcount=514)


Emile
Of Wolf and Man (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13835356&postcount=221)
Of Wolf and Man 2 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13841976&postcount=233)


Varen & Natalia
Revelations in the Eye of the Storm (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9482679&postcount=114)
Defiance (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9499158&postcount=142)
Fifteen Years Ago (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9566491&postcount=171)
Four Years Ago (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9566491&postcount=171)
In Search of Truth (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9566491&postcount=171)
The Other Side (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9576422&postcount=181)
Betrayal (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9576422&postcount=181)
Step By Step (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9583523&postcount=191)
The Pride of the Father (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9632782&postcount=220)
Mr. Varen (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9632782&postcount=220)
The Blue Bard (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9640782&postcount=229)
The Soothsayer in the Stone (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9672554&postcount=240)
No Use for a Broken Tool (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9672554&postcount=240)
Trust in Your Senses (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9672554&postcount=240)
Old Scars Never Heal (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9687997&postcount=247)
Family Reunions Are Always Awkward (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9920156&postcount=303)
Family Feud (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10032340&postcount=321)
How it Should Have Been (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10032340&postcount=321)
Prisoner (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10391320&postcount=342)
Fall (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10578972&postcount=377)
Before the Battle (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10775649&postcount=395)
Eat Your Heart Out (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10798672&postcount=408)

Abigail Weathers, Witch Apprentice
The First Time is Always the Hardest (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9733403&postcount=270)
Well, It Seemed Like A Perfectly Reasonable Idea at the Time (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9920156&postcount=303)
A Party Is Formed (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10182209&postcount=329)
It Doesn't Matter Who Started It As Long As You're The One To Finish It (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10429115&postcount=355)

Tavor the (Un)Lucky
Echoes of the Past (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9920156&postcount=303)
Exodus (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10391320&postcount=342)
Legacy (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10788390&postcount=406)
Tears in the Desert (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10788390&postcount=406)

Hero
Moving On (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10998101&postcount=453)



Frederick's First Surgery (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9490132&postcount=124)
Magaska, Called Venomwind (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9801713&postcount=287)
The Next Fix (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9801713&postcount=287)
Broken Promises, Broken Wings (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10086496&postcount=326)

Valiente Rafael Luis Zepata del Torres de Castille de blah de blah de blah
The Keep of Baron Faulker (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9329876&postcount=43)
A Death in the Family (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10926926&postcount=442)

Leon
A Dilemma (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9801713&postcount=287)
Graverobbers (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9801713&postcount=287)
A Holy Calling (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9801713&postcount=287)


Background on a Character I can Never Actually Play
Part I (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15110658&postcount=392)
Part II (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15735022&postcount=481)


The Battle for Breakfast (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=17368502&postcount=598)

The Adventurers Odd
Possibly Inspired By A True Story (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=16155771&postcount=564)
Diabolically Despicable Dice ... of DOOM! (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=16807484&postcount=583)
Suddenly... Nothing Happens! (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=16871993&postcount=587)
Hindsight is Always 20 Something (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18145686&postcount=610)

Setting Stories*
The Towers (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13836334&postcount=222)
Jessica (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13842580&postcount=234)
You May Call Me Jack (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14195589&postcount=325)

World of Cronc
Cronc Goes to Anger Management (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13876804&postcount=246)
Cronc Goes to the WWE (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14195589&postcount=325)
Cronc Goes to the WWE... Again (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14630319&postcount=370)
The Mystery of the Missing Sammich (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15751678&postcount=489)
Football (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15888994&postcount=515)
A Walk through Cyrodiil (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18145692&postcount=611)

Jessica's Misadventures in High School
Chapter 0: The Island (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15726215&postcount=479)
Chapter 1: An Island Getaway (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15687826&postcount=431)
Chapter 2: Advent Angel? (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15700286&postcount=458)
Chapter 3: The Riot (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15711000&postcount=476)
Chapter 4: Interrogation (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15747094&postcount=485)
Chapter 5: Madness (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15751678&postcount=489)
Chapter 6: Dilemma (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15817266&postcount=491)
Chapter 7: A Deal With the... (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15876187&postcount=510)
Short: Teacher Parent Conference (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15934947&postcount=523)
Chapter 8: The Meeting (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15979255&postcount=540)

The Big Play: A Jessica and Isabelle Mini-Series
Part 1 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18145686&postcount=610)

The Modern Bard
The Hostage (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15923370&postcount=518)
The Interrogation (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15842119&postcount=493)
The Meeting (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15876187&postcount=510)
Advent Villain (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=16726929&postcount=581)
Government Intervention (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18145686&postcount=610)

Horror
Ethereal (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15934947&postcount=523)
Spiders (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=16024897&postcount=556)

The Isolation of Ashley
Chapter 1: Day by Day (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18145686&postcount=610)


The Fall of the van Richten Heir (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14709095&postcount=373)


Good Hunting (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13157036&postcount=96)


A Largely Inconsequential Death (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10272208&postcount=333)


Kepesk & "Friends"*
Friends and Masters

Part 1 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13952902&postcount=280)
Part 2 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13988054&postcount=287)
Part 3 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14018281&postcount=299)
Part 4 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14149273&postcount=313)
Part 5 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14217396&postcount=327)


Destiny

Part 1 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14270430&postcount=340)


The Destruction of Amolarr

Part 1 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13871403&postcount=240)
Part 2 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13876952&postcount=247)
Part 3 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13907198&postcount=256)


Diversions

Ava, Protector of the Mirror Realm (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14394651&postcount=352)


The Curse
You Deserve to Know (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15090801&postcount=386)
Need to Move (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15566435&postcount=418)
Blind Girl in the Dark (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15932560&postcount=521)


Tiandra "Temperance" Valsimar
First Impressions (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15200305&postcount=410)

Hakar the Hobgoblin
Untitled (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9501691&postcount=145)

Dala, a Rogue
Dala's Journal, Day 73 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9612894&postcount=212)
Untitled (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10926616&postcount=441)



Valentine's Day (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9674318&postcount=244)


The Nameless Thief (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13229495&postcount=113)


Flouzer & Friends
By The Dying Fire (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9511283&postcount=155)


Rythranox the Ancient (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11917850&postcount=580)
Six Seconds (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14039508&postcount=307)

Na' Tas and Raziel
What Bad Guys Do Best (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13312320&postcount=122)
The Price of Failure (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13529459&postcount=145)


Metsa
Some Occurrences in my Life (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18767397&postcount=617)


Mini-Snippet Madness! (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14305797&postcount=345)

Tales from a RHoD Story
"Don't Worry, You'll Be Fine!" (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12587608&postcount=15)
A Paladin's Payment (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12625692&postcount=18)
Good Help is Hard to Bribe (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12689495&postcount=21)
Should We Tell the Druid? (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12877607&postcount=35)
Do We Know Him or Not? (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12899263&postcount=39)
The Red Hand Has Unusual Henchmen (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12922968&postcount=46)
You Know it's the End of the Campaign When... (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12928314&postcount=50)

Ninja Wars 3.5
Unintentional References Work Both Ways (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12839678&postcount=29)

Ravenloft (Partytime)
The Mists Slip Up (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13047334&postcount=64)
"Murder is the Only Option" (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13052730&postcount=70)
The Great Rescue Gone Awry (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13092188&postcount=75)
"Is This Normal?" (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13099222&postcount=78)
The Hair of the Dog (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13108449&postcount=84)
"Welcome to Hell" (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13130359&postcount=94)
The River Runs at 18 Gallons Per Round (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13195134&postcount=106)

Horst Faber, Private Eye
Film Noir D&D (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13233846&postcount=115)
Horst Gets Ahead (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13240141&postcount=119)

The Tempestuous Trio
The Tempestuous Trio (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13515194&postcount=140)
Fiendish Fowls and Distressing Damsels (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13542130&postcount=150)
"I Think I Know This Guy!" (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13627197&postcount=162)
Blood In The Sand (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13719673&postcount=166)

What Is This I Don't Even (SPDnDBESMCoC)
Trouble in Paradise (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13765276&postcount=189)
"Is That Good?" (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13771821&postcount=195)
Sound and Light (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13787793&postcount=203)
"I Thought Monks Sucked" (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13802178&postcount=210)
Club or Church? (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13820961&postcount=215)
The Cliche of the Genre (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13847629&postcount=236)
Kaiju Big Battle! (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13881111&postcount=251)

Crown of Shadow
Midnight (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14436628&postcount=358)
Getting to Know Each Other (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14494029&postcount=366)
Of Dwarfs and Channelers (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14824894&postcount=377)


Tales of Gar
City of Towers (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9315845&postcount=41)


The Warning (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12687156&postcount=20)

Child's Play
Untitled (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13157180&postcount=97)

Doroga
Untitled (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13227532&postcount=112)


Shen
At the Heart of the Forest (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12587102&postcount=14)
The Arczeckhi Barbarians (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13044869&postcount=60)

Shichirou
Tournament (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12864226&postcount=30)


The Wall
Introduction (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14784864&postcount=376)

Eron
Close To Home (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14989111&postcount=384)



Falthor
A Quiet Day in Hell (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12909846&postcount=41)


Forsworn of the Scarlet Liturgy (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12520123&postcount=10)


Challenge: Steampunk Elf
Nature Versus Nurture (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11191570&postcount=499)

Jailin & Friends
Desert Dangers (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9469778&postcount=103)
Dragons, Illusions, Sphynx (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9486410&postcount=122)
Reincarnation (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10966350&postcount=451)
Of Warfare Among Humans and Elves (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10966350&postcount=451)
Human Oaths and Dragons (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11000342&postcount=456)
Hypocrisy (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11000342&postcount=456)

Bashira
It's Crawlin' Time (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9496849&postcount=139)
We Really Shouldn't Have Done That (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9592113&postcount=195)

Morgana
Of Basic Necessities in the 21st Century (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=9507309&postcount=152)
Righting a Wrong (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10012590&postcount=316)
Choosing Sides (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=10029013&postcount=318)
Black Foam (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11188841&postcount=497)
Bull-Baiting (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11191570&postcount=499)


Caelain Blackbottle (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14491875&postcount=365)


Garrett
Candlekeep (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11695470&postcount=529)
Exonerated (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11716610&postcount=536)
Retirement (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=11926139&postcount=585)

Kalach's Journal*
Entry One (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12759766&postcount=26)
Entry Two (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12821834&postcount=28)
Maybe I Should Have Stuck to Farming (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12880104&postcount=36)
Moral Tests (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12919748&postcount=42)
Planar Travel: Love It, You're Leaving It (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12925249&postcount=48)
Day on the Town (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12936595&postcount=55)
Morons and Mine Shafts (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12972479&postcount=59)
Into Hell Itself! This Cannot Fail (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12972479&postcount=59)
The Tower in the Woods (Is Gone) (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13088792&postcount=73)
Working For (Then Siding Against) a Mad God (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13174712&postcount=101)
We Kill a Mad God (Twice) (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13202391&postcount=107)
One Nightmare After Another (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13299175&postcount=121)
Zombies, and the Tower in the Sky (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13414053&postcount=129)
Foul Play, Sir! (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13458597&postcount=135)
A New Problem (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13551174&postcount=151)
Elle's Account: While Kalach Was Gone (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13725895&postcount=168)
Nightmare Visions (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13750087&postcount=182)
The Mirror in my Head (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13784582&postcount=201)
The Game (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13809617&postcount=211)
Earning Trust (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13841048&postcount=230)
Secrets Abound (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13888859&postcount=254)
Madness... or Not (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13957380&postcount=282)
A Fable’s Beginnings (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14182938&postcount=317)
Another Realm (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15192595&postcount=404)
Returning to the Tower (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15695029&postcount=446)
The Truth (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15876981&postcount=511)
...And Other Returns (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=15909801&postcount=517)
Desevrever Steg Snihtyreve (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=16163466&postcount=565)


The Rising Storm* (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14276886&postcount=341)


* This story belongs to a larger work by multiple authors. See the next spoiler for the list of such works.



Kalach's Journal:
Winds
mebecronck

Legends of Voronda
Lord_Gareth
Kymme

Morally Ambiguous Adventures (seriously guys, give me a real name for this one :smalltongue:):
AIGilstad
PaperMustache
Xerinous



Lay vs. Lie (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13930759&postcount=269)
The Past Perfect Tense (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13797037&postcount=201)

Dr Bwaa
2011-12-02, 09:50 PM
To get things started, here's a clip from a session yesterday, while it's still fresh in my mind (the dialogue is aided significantly by skype chat records, to be fair).


Dark Interrogation
I wish I could see my interrogator. It would be nice to see anything, for that matter. It’s an awful risk we’re taking, giving them control like this. I hear screams from nearby. At least the slave we took from them is sticking to his story; there's a stroke of luck.

“Why are you here?” The voice rasps out from beside me in Undercommon, close but not close enough to make a grab for him. Not that that would be advisable in this situation. I make no reply, simply shaking my head.

My interrogator must have gotten the hint, because he repeats "Why you here?" in halting Common. Good, he isn’t fluent.

"We escorted your kinsman back to this location after eliminating a magma ooze that had assailed his party." I speak quickly, confidently. The less he actually learns here, the better.

There’s a slight pause, and then “How big ooze?” hisses from my other side. Two of them? Or is he just circling to attempt to keep me off-balance? Regardless, I face straight ahead, gripping my staff tightly in my left hand, trying not to show how tense I am.

"Its circumference approached that of an aseliak tree, and it was perhaps three xaqil in height." If this cretin knows far eastern flora or the Ignan measurement system I’ll turn in my spellbook.

“And how many it kill?”

He knows the right questions to ask, I’ve got to give him that. Not that he’ll get me to answer them. “We only recovered the one survivor.”

Another pause, longer this time. “How did you get a dragon skeleton?”

It is time for a gamble. “After my companions and I fought and slew the dragon Snadrathsen, I raised its skeleton to do my bidding.”

“Where did you kill him? How?”

“We tracked him down in the mountains and killed him with a multitude of powerful magics and physical might.”

“Where you go from here if we let you leave?” Now he’s behind me. Definitely just trying to unsettle me.

“A conference between my fellows and I would be required before I could declare an objective with any certainty, but we are in search of other travelers in these catacombs who may be in peril, and in all likelihood we would continue on that course presently.” Choke on that; you can’t even get basic tenses right.


“Where you find the dragon's wealth?”

“We scoured the nearby terrain and found a small stash in a secluded region of the mountains, which we took to be his.”

There’s a quick flurry of speech in Undercommon directed at my questioner, too soft for me to make out. Then, soft footsteps leaving in the direction of the Council seat. Moments later, a hand grabs my arm, and I limp behind my escort through the darkness.

Intermission: Some critiques I owe from the previous thread



Autumn

The circle can barely be called a circle any more; more sorcerers are on the ground than there are standing, many of them dead, others clinging onto life by the thinnest of threads. The remaining members of the Ashen Court present for the ritual sway dangerously, chanting in pained monotones as blood oozes from their eyes, their ears, their noses, their mouths, pooling at their feet and running in slow rivers towards the center of the circle.

The blood crawls its way up Seraphina's legs like a bright red snake, burrowing into her throat as her back arches in sheer ecstasy.

The rain starts once more, lashing down on the battle and the ritual alike.

First of all, let me say that I want no part of this ritual. Second, your phrasing is always very elegant, but the pacing of this section I think is particularly cinematic. The slow, painful ritual focused on the sorcerers zooms out to Seraphina's gruesome part in it, and out again to the chaos of the bigger picture very smoothly.


Feeling like the head of the world's deadliest rock band, Natasha leads the charge into the Host.

I really really loved the whole Spring section, but this line made me laugh the most.


A helicopter lands, its crew spitting suppressive fire while Jillian sprints aboard. It begins to take off, but Jillian smacks the pilot upside the head and screams into his ear.

"GET ME ON THAT DRAGON!"

I like this moment a lot. The smack is the perfect choice of action to signify the urgency of the situation and need for attention; you'd see this in a movie. And the last line is classic, of course. I've said it before, but this campaign of yours sounds really fun.

End Intermission

Finally, here's a snippet I've been working on for a bit, from a character in a game I haven't played in quite some time. Warning, it's a bit on the long side.



Laelah’s Test
or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Exotic Weapon Proficiency Feat
Master Korag stood up once more to announce it. “Laelah Vrenn!” She stood, ready, hands at her sides. She would be paired with Desh Ka Redeem, a mage originally from somewhere in the South who specialized in Conjuration magic. She would save her Dispel for whatever nasty thing he summoned, and retaliate with a summon of her own, complimented by Web and her damaging spells.

“I will be your dueling partner this evening! Come! Julian will adjudicate!”

The students’ fervent whispering--many were interested to see what Laelah would choose, and if she would manage to be the only student to defeat an instructor--died on their lips. An eerie hush fell over the crowd as Laelah walked forward, her mouth dry, her hands suddenly trembling. She made her way toward the arena, was standing by its entrance when the Master Instructor, standing by the weapon rack, called to her: “no weapons, Miss Vrenn? Do you intend to face me armed with magic alone?”

Laelah doubled back to the weapon rack, mind racing as she tried to formulate a new strategy. Her boots on the dry earth were the only sound. She looked up as she reached the weapons, to see Sus Korag in front of her, holding her favorite hand-and-a-half sword, hilt towards her. “I know you prefer the bastard sword. Shall we?”

Numbly, she took it from his hands; her mind elsewhere. “Something the matter, Miss Vrenn? Come, everyone is expecting a show! Look!” Indeed, the entirety of the assembly was watching her ardently. She picked out familiar faces, locking onto them. Fwzltzrgh looked eager. Iya was smug. Nari looked worried.

Laelah followed Master Korag into the arena. He took up position at the far side, exactly sixty-five feet from her position. Julian gave the first announcement: “Combatants! You have tens seconds to prepare yourselves starting... now!”

Sus stood there, watching, as Laelah first cast Heroics, then Mage Armor, and held her scroll tight as the familiar lightning danced through her nerves and over her skin. Her very body gave off a faint red glow, and she breathed deeply, enjoying the sensation. Sus Korag did nothing. “Duel!” declared Julian.

Laelah immediately cast Nerveskitter to give her the extra timing edge, and began reading from the scroll. Sus slowly advanced on her, but he got only a short way before Laelah’s spell completed, and a snarling, blistered, horned wolf the size of a horse appeared in front of him. As it attacked, tearing into the Master Instructor’s greaves attempting to draw blood, Laelah drew her sword and began to advance, eyes alight with battle lust and limbs suffused with driving, irresistible energy.

Sus laughed, getting a firmer stance as the wolf rolled powerfully, trying to bring him to the ground. “A very good choice, Laelah! But I want to see your skills!” Giving the wolf a boot to the face, Sus took a step back and began to cast a complex spell. Laelah recognized it: it looked like a Dispel Magic, but this was much stronger, more absolute somehow. Nari got it first, yelling out just as an invisible hemisphere eliminated the front two-thirds of the summoned wolf: “Laelah! Your magic!”

Sus advanced, sword drawn, the hemisphere sweeping across the wolf, which disappeared entirely and reappeared in the same spot once the swordmaster was a good distance past. “Let us have a duel of purely martial prowess: I do not think that I have seen that from you this year. Am I right?”

The wolf leaped at Sus from behind, but disappeared entirely when it tried to get anywhere close. Laelah stepped forward, into the field she now recognized. As she did, she felt the magic drain from her body as she knew it would. What she wasn’t ready for was how much it would hurt. The loss was total. The glow vanished. Her body, which had been so filled with radiant, beautiful light, was now utterly, crushingly empty. The Weave, with which she shared such an intimate bond, was gone. She fell hard to one knee in front of Sus, barely managing to keep a grip on the sword.

“Get up! Got a little null arcana shock? That’s nothing to what people--regular, everyday people--can do to you with a simple piece of non-magical steel on a field of battle! Defend yourself!”

The sword came crashing down, and Laelah barely got her own up in time to turn it aside. The shock sang down her arms as the tears welling behind her eyes burst forth. Forcing herself to her feet, she thrust aside another swing and took a step back, out of the Antimagic Field. The surge of energy revitalized her, and even as Sus yelled, closing to come at her again, Laelah did all the damage she knew she could: a mere cantrip, a first-year spell, she fired off her Acid Splash while she was still outside the field. The tiny green orb hissed on contact with the Master Instructor’s shoulder, eating through fabric and burning the skin. Then she steeled herself for the loss to come.

It was no better for the preparation. Laelah managed to keep her feet this time, and met Master Korag head-on. Without the spells to guide her body, Laelah kept both hands on her sword and struggled to recall the tactics she’d been taught. She willed her body to employ them, while her mind concentrated on staving off the old veteran, but she was using every ounce of her strength and still falling short. A cut opened on her leg, another across her unarmored stomach. Not deep, but she was bleeding--she realized that the effect of the mage-duel arena that made all violence non-lethal did not function inside the Antimagic Field. I could die right here, she thought with a shock. He could kill me. He’s going to kill me.

Laelah put every ounce of her strength into her parries, attempting to knock his sword wide to make an opening, fighting for her life now. You’re an old man! How are you this strong? She swept his weapon out of the way, just enough, she thought, but when she went for the offensive sweep to the knee, his blade returned impossibly fast, from underneath. The grip twisted in her sweaty hands and then the sword spun away altogether, landing with a dirty crash on the ground some distance away. She felt steel--real, unmitigated steel--touch her throat as she came to her knees for the second time in moments. “This contest is over!” Master Korag declared, holding the blade to Laelah’s jugular. The whole duel had taken only thirty seconds from start to finish.

“There are two lessons here,” the Master Instructor continued as he took a step back from Laelah--not far enough to let her regain access to the Weave, nor to allow her to take her eyes off the tip of the blade hovering inches away. “First and foremost: we do not allow magical enhancement to be used during martial training! You all know this! But some of you, including Miss Vrenn here, have chosen to disregard that rule, thinking that if you got away with it, there was no harm done! Now you know that you were wrong. As you can plainly see, she cannot even wield her weapon of choice properly without magical crutches!

“The second lesson is this: Do Not Ever enter a battle without a failsafe, or you will lose. Do not carry a sword you cannot wield without magic, and do not rely on magic unless you know that you will be able to use it. This means keeping spare spell components, foci, spellbooks. Have backups, and be able to use them even in dire circumstances. Otherwise, this is all you are: quivering flesh, waiting to be impaled on some peasant’s spearpoint.” He shook his sword toward Laelah, spattering tiny drops of her own blood across her face.

“The war against the Shadovar is over. Do not think there will never be war again. I want every one of you to report to the Palace tomorrow at daybreak. Welcome to the Spellguard.”

The Master Instructor Sus Korag dismissed the Antimagic Field; the wolf did not reappear, its duration having long since expired. Laelah, kneeling still, was flooded with anger, with despair, with relief, but most of all, with the blessed Weave. It filled her, restoring her body, calming her tears. She didn’t notice as the arena was dismissed, and Nari rushed to her side, followed quickly by several of the other students--those who didn’t think she needed to be knocked down a peg, anyway. Rojeil stood impassively nearby, watching. Nari produced a cloth to dry Laelah’s eyes. “Sweet gods, you’re hurt! Is it bad? Medic!”

“No,” Laelah replied calmly into the turmoil around her. “It’s not bad anymore.”

I've been considering putting this second one in the first person instead of third. Thoughts?

Winds
2011-12-02, 10:16 PM
I'm not sure that changing the focus would aid it, unless you're that much more confident in that writing style.

Dr Bwaa
2011-12-02, 10:27 PM
I'm not sure that changing the focus would aid it, unless you're that much more confident in that writing style.

I'm actually less confident in the first person; getting stronger with it is one of my goals in writing these snippets. If I did change this one, it would be to make it more personal, but at the moment I'm not really sure how I would do that (especially since the current narrator already has access to her thoughts).

Dr Bwaa
2011-12-06, 02:33 AM
Needz moar storiez!

Here's another one--I'm really uncomfortable writing battles. Any advice would be much appreciated.


No One Likes A Paladin
or: Since When Can The Elf Fight?
With the undead unable to follow us, it’s just Sulderis and Maga to keep any assailants away from Moroch and I. I hope the Elf is up to it; he’s been twitchy since he had a discussion with a couple Drow back at the Grim Procession. Maga seems tough enough, anyway.

We enter the left door at the end of this short hallway. Inside, it’s what I’d expected: a cathedral. Row upon row of pews; the floor decorated with the same square-and-diamond pattern on the doors. Still Hallowed. Still—

“Prepare yourselves, foul necromancers! Your stain will not sully these aged walls!” The brass voice calls out from the opposite side of the room, and then immediately come the sounds of hurried feet and more shouts about “evildoers”. Paladins. Terrific.

Sulderis jumps a couple of pews, sending his light ahead of him so we can get a good look at three heavily muscled men with wolflike heads, clad in white and gold. Archon paladins. Of course they are.

At least I know how to deal with archons. As their leader engages Sulderis, I draw the symbols in the air and force the words of power from my throat. The oppressive Hallow makes it feel like my mouth is full of potatoes and my hands swimming in mercury, but I force the spell through to completion. The walkway next to the Elf sizzles and flares with blinding energy as a fiendish grizzly bear roars into being next to him, blocking the archons’ path to the frailer members of the team.

Not that that matters, of course. These savages have no idea how much trouble they’re in for against one bear. The leader does engage with the grizzly and the Elf, but the two others disappear, reappearing between Moroch and I with a thunderclap.

Startled, I stumble back, into the side wall, and fumble for a bit of gauze in my spell pouch. I’ve no intention of going hand-to-hand with these sword-wielding brutes, so as Moroch turns to run back the way we came, I complete my transformation into a harmless mist, and drift gently upwards out of reach to watch the battle unfold.

From my vantage point between the two rooms I watch Maga chase the two archons following Moroch—growing up as a slave to the trolls doesn’t leave much room for fear, I suppose. Moroch beats a hasty retreat to the skeletons in the next room, taking occasional hits from the archons but keeping his feet and wearing them down thanks to a fiery shield I’m not familiar with. Sulderis and the bear soon overpower the paladin fighting them, and as Moroch finally gets behind his skeletal monsters, Sulderis comes tearing out of the church toward the two remaining archons.

They blink away from him, past the skeletons and next to Moroch once again, but Sulderis catches one on his blade mid-spell, and only a messy lower half of that archon arrives to block Moroch’s escape. The last archon, surrounded now by all the skeletons and the bear, yells some defiant challenge, but he barely has time to swing his blade before a Missile barrage from the Elf puts him down for good.

I should find out what’s eating at him, maybe aggravate it. Whiny as he is, it’s making him a better fighter.

Winds
2011-12-06, 10:02 AM
Your battle is written fine. What exactly are you thinking is wrong with it?

I wish I were still working as a player...I can't do the villain's side because they don't need to know, and I can't do the player side because they never seem to flesh out their character's personality. Even if they did, I don't like writing the POV of someone else's character...

Dr Bwaa
2011-12-08, 02:35 AM
Your battle is written fine. What exactly are you thinking is wrong with it?

I can't point out anything in particular that I dislike about the battle scene; it just feels very uncomfortable to write, like I can't get across the necessary information without the scene feeling static and slow. If it doesn't come across that way, then I guess I've succeeded--just have to convince myself of it. :smallsmile:


I wish I were still working as a player...I can't do the villain's side because they don't need to know, and I can't do the player side because they never seem to flesh out their character's personality. Even if they did, I don't like writing the POV of someone else's character...

Writing from the PoV of an NPC, I think, could provide some great perspective on the party (like all those demotivators that are captioned "The PCs have Been Here"), and generally be very strong. I actually wish I'd DMed more recently, so I'd have some of the encounters with my more-important NPCs fresh in my mind. Depending on the person telling the story, that kind of situation could lend itself really well to comedy or drama.


General news: I've updated the first post; I'm about halfway done with cataloging all the snippets from the first thread, so if you've been avoiding going through the archives because you didn't want to go searching for snippets, your excuse is no longer valid. :smallcool:

And finally, here's a snippet regarding my party's first really serious act of terrorism. I'm also working on a sister snippet from someone in the other half of the party's PoV. My biggest concern with this snippet is whether it's clear enough what happens at the end. Without further ado...



Diversion
or: The Renaldwatch Massacre, Part I
This isn't the righteous mob protesting the Magocracy we'd hoped for, but at least we have the guards' attention. I move to intercept a young guardsman advancing toward the crowd with his sword drawn. My fist connects with his jaw and he topples; I snatch his sword as he falls and toss it onto a rooftop. Let there be as little permanent damage done tonight as possible.

Filbert appears at my side to let me know that we're coming up on another tavern. I know the place; it used to be a favorite of my father and his war buddies. I give Filbert a nod, and he ducks back into the crowd. I make my way toward the opposite side of the street, to avoid the incoming rioters.

There's a crash, and I see a glint of torchlight on armor where a guardsman has apparently been thrown through the door of the Sweaty Sorceress. Filbert comes rushing out just behind him, followed by a dozen or so angry drunks. It's impossible to hear what they're shouting; no one knows what the riot is about anymore, but we're still making haphazard progress toward the richer districts, where the law will be forced to act in earnest. The moon is low in the sky before us, silhouetting the spired pinnacle of the academic dormitory—the Tower of Scholars.

A real troupe of guards arrives, blocking our path with weapons close to hand, but not drawn. This is the tricky spot; we must convince them we are a danger without risking any real bloodshed. As I push my way to the front of the mob to deal with it, someone behind me yells "Down with the Queen!" and the mass of bodies crushes forward.

I see the Sergeant pull out a glowing talisman, which is all I need to see. Backup is on the way. It'll be pulled from the academic district, giving Charlize and Nim a clear path to the Academy itself. So they can do what they need to do.

I hunt for Filbert in the crowd, which has turned into an all-out street brawl. Some guards have managed to draw weapons; I disarm two that I can get near, but they seem mostly concerned with the few people in the crowd who are also armed. At least they are still as disciplined as I remember.

Filbert finds me first, tapping me on the shoulder as he spars with an off-duty Lieutenant wearing nothing under his breastplate. "More are coming. We're done here," I mutter to him, as quietly as I can make myself heard over the noise.

As if on cue, the hurried pounding of boots double stepping in unison can be heard from ahead. I see the ranks of guards round the corner, and as they spot the melee, the front lines break into a full charge, weapons held high.

Filbert and I force our way through the thinning press of panting, sweating men to the side of the street. I glance at the advancing guards, not slowing their charge, polished blades ready to shed some common blood. Not as disciplined as I'd thought, after all. We turn away and duck into a long alley, making good our escape while there's still time. But I can't tune out the sound as shouts of drunken defiance give way to shrieks of panic and pain. I pray at least it's quiet at the Academy.

Then all other sound becomes lost in an incredible, soul-quaking roar that comes from everywhere and seems to last forever. Filbert and I halt our flight, gritting teeth and grimacing as the ground beneath us shivers like a tent unsheltered from a rainstorm on the open plains. When the tumbling, rolling noise finally quivers to a halt, a silent cloud of soot and dust hangs low in the moonlight over the city.

We sit and watch the sky for several minutes. Without moving, I wonder to the stars, "Did we do the right thing?"

There is no reply.

jibbermaster
2011-12-25, 10:56 PM
Nice work I really like how you made our little brawl seem more sucessful then it probably was! Can't wait to read more. Maybe I'll post something from Filbert's perspective.

For those of you who don't know I play Filbert in this campaign. We are having another session tomorrow for the first time in 6 months!

Dr Bwaa
2012-01-12, 12:11 PM
Oh hey, Jibbermaster. You definitely should.

MOAR STORIES. Seriously, I need reading material.


Revelations 5:6
or: How Does Wild Shape Work??
The four of us returned, spirits high, to the field we'd left the owls and the grey, goblin-like creatures Charlize had called Svirfneblin. Nim had stayed behind to watch over them all; he was showing off some knife tricks to a couple of the ugly creatures. The owls were nowhere in sight, and Namia immediately shrunk into a forest bird of some kind, and took off to retrieve them as we entered the clearing.

"Filbert, that's an awesome look for you," Nim exclaimed. "Can you really see normally through that now?"

"I can," Filbert replied. I have to admit, the silk blindfold did make him look more intimidating somehow, like the legendary Blind Warrior of myth. And apparently he could see through it normally, now that he was wearing all of his ancestral gear. It was a good look, for sure.

Namia returned shortly, with the owls and an accusing look on her face. "Nim, Urlene told me they left because you were throwing rocks at them? Why would you do such a thing? You usually show them at least a little respect!"

"They were trying to eat the Svirfneblin! I just wanted them to back off!" Nim protested.

"You know how to speak with them!"

"They wouldn't listen! The little guys were screaming! I was flustered!"

"So you decided to attack them?"

"Nim does not always make the most… rational decisions, Namia. You know that," Filbert interjected helpfully.

Nim whirled on him, uncharacteristic anger marring his face. "Oh, so now I'm irrational?! Then why did you all leave me here with them in the first place? Just to see how irrational I would be?"

"Nim, please," Namia said softly, "calm down. There's no harm done…"

"Oh, really? Are you sure I can be trusted? What if I did something crazy again, and people got hurt?" He really looked the part, brandishing a knife in each hand and glaring about wildly. Apparently Charlize thought so too, because she decided enough was enough and stepped forward.

"Nim, put the knives down and shut up before you do hurt someone. You're not helping your case at all, here."

"Oh yeah, well she's pregnant!" he thrust a dagger in Namia's direction. The silence was absolute, save for the muted whimpering of the Svirfneblin hiding behind Charlize. The only movement was Nim's heaving chest as he continued to point the accusing dagger at his lover.

Namia was the first to break the silence; I guess the news probably didn't come as such a surprise to her. She spun away, leapt onto Urlene's broad back, and took off into the sky.

Volos
2012-01-12, 04:02 PM
Here is my first attempt at a snippet.


Forsworn of the Scarlet Liturgy
or: Plot Twist My Players Hated
Victorious. That is the word that has been chanted in your ears the entire night throughout the streets and within the taverns. Glory. Your prize and your right after having saved this two bit town for the third time. When the wererats threatened to overrun the slums, you were there to defend the common people. As demons poured forth from twisted crags in the upper hills, you were there to save the noblity from certain damnation. In the end when all hope had been lost and the Ash King's firey sigil scorched the skies for weeks on end as his Legion of Flame advanced like a slow burning wildfire... you stood against it all. Victorious. You have become the word, it is but a single aspect of your character. Everyone knows your name, it is chanted in the streets long after the sun has set. This, the latest of the numerous parties you have been invited to, has spilt out into the street as should be expected. Every patron wishes to drink to your name. Gold and silver flows as readily as water. All the songs are of joyous celebration, and they are all singing of you.

The sound of silence roars, as it once had on the fields of battle just outside the city walls. It leaves you deaf to the singing, the praise, the joy of the people. You know what is coming, and that you can do nothing to stop it. Heat bursts forth, escaping from every crack and crevice of the cobblestone street. Even the screams of the first dozen or so to fall cannot reach your ears, you hear only silence. It aches. The utter lack leaves your mind grasping. You take your blade in hand, striking at the first Legionnaire you see. Even as the bone armor grows and distorts his skin from the inside, the man's eyes beg you to save him. Fire burst from his mouth as he screams unheard. You give him a good death. The blade in your hand seperates his life from the everburning hellflames of the Ash King. Guards pour into the square, each clasping the glowing amulets around their necks as they mutter prayers to whatever gods they worship. They join the battle, adding their strength to yours. But you know it won't be enough. You don't even bother with why or how. You just fight.

In the distance, at the edge of sight, stands a slender figure atop a low roof overlooking the town square. He watches the battle with some interest, obviously not bothered by it. There is a white mask covering his face, and his hands are decorated with vicious claws. He stands with his elbow resting in his palm, and his free hand taps a claw against his chin every so often. Every time you think of confronting him, the legions press harder and in greater numbers. Just as you become used to fighting the terrible brutes, they are replaced with many smaller and faster ones that you can’t seem to pin down. Every time your strategy changes, so does the forces fighting against you. In the end, it is all you can do to hold them back.

The masked stranger raises a single claw from his lower hand, a dark red light growing there until it suddenly unleashes itself on the town square, removing many of the guards and legions from the fight in a single instant. The blast didn’t kill those caught within it, it removed from this world them along with any else that was within its grasp. With that act of recklessness, the tide of battle turned against you. The legions press in harder from every point, your forces spread far too thin to deal with the onslaught. Now that the legions easily outnumbered you five to one. Just as it seemed that your night of celebration was to come to a sudden and bloody end, the legions numbers seemed to thin. It wasn’t that there were less of them, but rather that they were pulling away. The masked stranger turns away from the battle and simply disappears, but not before saying one thing that you will never forget. "The Ash King lives."

big teej
2012-01-12, 06:24 PM
it'll be nice to start writing again, especially since I"ll have the time...

color me interested

Dr Bwaa
2012-01-24, 12:29 AM
good to see you back big teej!

@Volos
I like the 2nd person perspective you've gone with, here. I think that's really hard to write, and you did a good job with it; I think it fits the story you're telling really well. The narrative really hammers home the "you"s; that relentlessness I think is a driving force behind the general feel of your snippet.

My favorite bit, I think, is your choice of the word "remove" in the last paragraph. It serves to really underscore the instant, careless brutality of the stranger's action.

--


I'm working up the other half of the Renaldwatch Massacre; the process has been slowed by my getting a "real job." I should be able to finish it by this weekend at the latest.

big teej
2012-01-24, 12:34 AM
If I can squeeze writing it up around DMing every week and class... I have a lovely tale of a quest to the elemental plane of water involving a kraken killing 2 party members followed by someone soloing a megalodon.

TheCountAlucard
2012-01-24, 12:58 AM
At the Heart of the Forest...The prince approaches the ancient, dying oak tree with his sorcerer companion. The old crone had steered them right; he could feel the stir of spiritual activity all around. He closes his eyes and focuses his will; the king of the wood would answer his call. Speaking in as authoritative a voice as he could muster, he calls out.

"O forest-king! Let my call be heard! Let us have words!"

No answer comes from the tree; Shen opens his eyes, but keeps his face forward. A light breeze blows, and the forest stirs as Shen ignites the golden brand upon his brow, letting all the wood know that one of the chosen of the gods was present.

"I call you forth, forest-king! A hidden sun beseeches you! Answer the call of the Lawgivers!"

The sorcerer looks about as Shen speaks, observing the gathering of curious wood-spirits, hearing their whispers in the ancient tongue. The prince ignores these distractions, and in one swift motion, looses a perfectly-balanced throwing knife from his belt. He draws the edge along the palm of his hand, and then clenches his fist for a moment, before pressing his bloody hand to the trunk of the tree.

"Once more I ask you, forest-king! We have business to discuss! Answer my call!"

Shen stands stock-still, bleeding palm held firmly to the oak, as the tree comes alive beneath his hand. It grows warm as vitality surges through it, and begins twisting in place, creaking as it moves, until a strange gateway stands open before Shen and the sorcerer.

Shen withdraws his hand from the trunk, concentrating to close the wound. He gives his trusted companion a confident look, and says, "Shall we?"

Ahh, Exalted, where even knocking on someone's door can be a three-die stunt. :smallcool:

SleepyShadow
2012-01-24, 03:05 AM
Since I get to be a player about as often as it snows it July, this snippet is written from the point of view of an NPC named White Crow. I was (and currently am) running the Red Hand of Doom.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine!"
I owed Herodrith and Tom a lot for saving me from a hobgoblin ambush, but I never thought my debt would lead me where it did. When I was the only one that was able to spot the ambush that was set for us later in our journey, I should have accepted Herodrith's offer of releasing me from my debt for having saved the group. At the time, leaving the group was the last thing in the world I wanted to do. I finally got to be a heroine, to travel the land and help people, just like the stories I had been told when I was a little girl. I was treated kindly by these adventurers, always thanked for assisting them in a difficult battle, or healing someone's injuries, or just relaying some piece of information I had recalled from the many things I had learned. I admired Tom and Herodrith, and I was even starting to like the warlock Zendra. I considered them friends, and I felt cared for and respected.

I was foolish and naive to think so.

The city Brindol had come under attack by the army of the Red Hand, and it was up to us to stop a group of giants from smashing their way through one of the city walls. Since the fighting at Brindol had just begun, I cautioned Herodrith that he and I needed to conserve our magic for the fights to come, but he disregarded my warning and called upon every last ounce of divine power he could muster in order to bring the giants down. Not long after we defeated the giants, Tom informed us that Lord Jarmaath needed us to thwart the dragon that was setting the town ablaze.

We rushed to where the dragon circled the city, and I fired my bow as soon as he flew within range. Though the arrow barely scratched its scales, the dragon ceased burning the town and began flying down to confront us.

"Is everyone ready?" I called out over my shoulder at the rest of the group.

"I'm out of spells!" Herodrith replied as he and the others quickly climbed inside his giant undead worm. "Don't worry, you'll be fine!"

As the worm bore them to safety beneath the earth, I realized I had been abandoned by them. The last thing I ever saw was a massive wave of flame as it engulfed my body.

Dr Bwaa
2012-01-29, 09:51 PM
Silent Night
or: The Renaldwatch Massacre, Part II
I brush the corner of a table in the half-light given off by everburning torches far above. It's just a gentle touch; I'm starting to tell myself to be more careful when a terrific smash shatters the silence; apparently there was a vase or something on that table moments ago. I freeze, eyes on the door halfway across the room that leads toward the faculty quarters; Nim dives under the long table next to him, and we wait.

It doesn't take long before the door pulls open and an instructor I don't recognize enters the hall, flanked by two self-important-looking students wearing golden Prefect badges, gleaming with lights of their own. Out of the corner of my eye I see Nim begin to creep toward them under one of the long benches.

I take a few steps forward, bowing just enough for it to be believable. "Good evening, sir. Forgive me for disturbing you; I was just on my way back upstairs." I continue walking forwards, breaking eye contact and making for the door on the far end of the hall.

"Not so fast, young lady. What is your name? What are you doing all the way down here past curfew?"

I stop, turning around. The instructor's puffed-up goons are striding towards me; any second now they'll see that I'm not a student. I look at the ground, hiding my face as long as possible and feigning a whole different kind of nervousness than I actually feel. "I was... uh..."

I flick my eyes up for just a moment; see Nim crouching under the table just feet from the instructor.

"Ah, I see. Out on a tryst? Do the words 'Indefinite Suspension' mean anything to you at all? Who is he? Tell me, and perhaps I'll ask the Headmaster to lessen your punishment... Who are you? Stop hiding your face!" He takes a couple steps forward, putting Nim behind him. I raise my face defiantly, pulling back my hood and brushing the hair from my eyes so the silver slivers in my irises are clearly visible to the meatheads in front of me.

"You," the instructor whispers. "You're--" but he gets no further, interrupting himself to stare down at the dark, thin blade protruding from his chest. Nim lets the man slump to the floor. One of the Prefects looks back at the sound, sees the shadowed figure blocking their retreat, then looks back at me and whimpers softly.

"Sorry, boys," I reply softly. "Silmoor fe Cefis!" Five tiny globes, invisible except for the swirling path they leave through the dust motes suspended in the still air, streak from my lowered hands into the chests and stomachs of the unfortunate students. They're thrown back several feet by the force. They stay where they land.

Nim softly makes his way to me, and we wait, listening for anyone else who might have heard the commotion. After several long minutes, we move on, across the hall, through the light wooden door and up the stairs.

The living quarters at the Academy are in the Tower of Scholars, a vaulted spire directly on top of the main Academy building with fifteen levels of bunkrooms accessed by two long, twisting stairways. We ascend the eastern stair in silence, Nim somewhat ahead of me looking out for anyone still awake. We reach the top without seeing anyone, and look around in the dim torchlight.

As on each other level, there are several rooms arrayed about the outside of the tower, with a large empty practice room in the center, flanked by the two staircases. There would be almost fifty students on each floor; the most senior on the privileged lower levels and the youngest at the top of the tower. The next generation of xenophobic, hate-filled Wizards. I know the dimensions of these halls by heart, but I pace it off anyway just to be sure, measuring the length and width of the hallway and extrapolating the size of the small bedchambers. As I had suspected, two casts will suffice.

Silent, I motion Nim to retreat back down the stairwell, and I follow him quickly, stopping just before I lose sight of the top floor around a corner. Nim looks to me and nods, ready to move. My hands twist into a painful configuration of digits, and I mutter as quietly as I can, "A draelis vaum abbadek. A draelis vaum abbadek." Yellow-green vapor coalesces in the hall above, first on the west side of the tower, then more, closer, nearly on top of the east stairway. Most of the students wouldn't even wake up; wouldn't notice the deadly mist creep into their rooms and their beds. Nim and I hurry down the stairs as the cloud begins its slow descent through the tower. We pause halfway down so I can repeat the process.

We stop again at the base of the Tower, in a large circular room dominated by a large central pillar covered in gently-glowing grey-blue glyphs. There are six doors leading from this nexus, off to all the other parts of the Academy. Nim draws a pair of potions, handing one to me, and I point at one of the doorways. "That one leads to the Library. We'll be able to get in and then out a window there without any trouble; it's never locked." I pause as Nim starts toward the Library. "You know, I always thought this rock might be the only thing holding this tower up," I muse aloud.

I follow Nim to the Library, looking back occasionally. We reach a window just across from the door, and drink our potions. "Can you get this open?" I ask Nim, gesturing to the heavy glass between us and the open air, twenty feet or more above the ground. He goes to work without a sound, and I turn back towards the door to the Library and the hub beyond, eerie blue pillar quietly glowing to itself in the darkness.

"Got it," Nim whispers from behind me.

"Alright," I reply without turning. Holding my hands about a foot apart, I hiss the words and feel a suction between them, building, building until I turn my hands and let the void escape across the room, out the door and into the pillar in the hall beyond. The blue glimmer instantly goes out. Then everything lights up with a brilliant green as I point my finger into the hall, following my last spell, and a thin line strikes across the empty space, illuminating the column for a brief moment before reducing it instantly to ash. An ominous groan sounds from above, and I finally turn to Nim and the window. "Time to go!"

As we fly into the night air, the creaking and rumbling intensifies behind us, growing inexorably until I can't help but to look over my shoulder and see the whole tower crumbling and smashing down on top of the Academy. The sound is incredible, trampling through the air like a horde of hell-bent ogres. At the Palace in the distance, lights rise into the air and begin speeding towards us. I utter a bark of exhilarated laughter, lost in the cacophony, as Nim and I race away from the scene, shrouded by darkness.

@TheCountAlucard
This is nice; I'm intrigued by what business such a cast of characters has to discuss. The only moment that bothered me was here,

The sorcerer looks about as Shen spoke
"Spoke" ought to be "speaks" since the whole thing is present tense.

...Man, every time someone posts an Exalted snippet I come away really wanting to try the system out.

@SleepyShadow
I LOLed. Poor NPCs, such is their lot in life. One of these days I have some great NPC-perspective stuff I want to write up in this same vein (being abandoned, forgotten, ignored, etc) that I think would be highly amusing. This was really fun to read and believable; I especially loved the moment where White Crow naively attempts to advise a PC on how to approach a problem :smalltongue:

TheCountAlucard
2012-01-29, 09:58 PM
@TheCountAlucard
This is nice; I'm intrigued by what business such a cast of characters has to discuss.The nearby farmlands were dying off. We suspected geomantic sabotage, but we weren't going to rule out the king of the wood without first seeing him.


"Spoke" ought to be "speaks" since the whole thing is present tense.Oops, and here I thought I'd caught all of 'em. I tried to avoid using both past and present tense, but yeah, I missed one. :smalleek:

SleepyShadow
2012-01-30, 06:20 AM
I LOLed. Poor NPCs, such is their lot in life. One of these days I have some great NPC-perspective stuff I want to write up in this same vein (being abandoned, forgotten, ignored, etc) that I think would be highly amusing. This was really fun to read and believable; I especially loved the moment where White Crow naively attempts to advise a PC on how to approach a problem :smalltongue:

Sadly, that's how they treat NPCs that they like. I have quite a few good moments from that disastrously ended RHoD campaign. Here's one of my personal favorites. I decided to give them the opportunity to rescue one of the Brindol Knights delivering the gold for the dwarves, but ...

A Paladin's Payment
I had thought at first it was the ettins coming back to finish me off, but when I was roused it was by the sweet sensation of divine healing magic. I immediately sat up to thank my rescuers, and saw that the ettins lay dead and the goblins were nowhere to be seen. A human and an elven man were tending to the corpses of the giants, a halfling was investigating the area to make sure it was clear, and the one tending to my injuries was a brown-skinned human girl. She smiled at me as I observed my surroundings.

"Good, you're awake," the human male said as he and the elf approached me. "We found three chests. Are they yours?"

"Ah, indeed they are sir," I replied, getting to my feet.

"I see you're an elf," the elven man said. "Herodrith, we could use a lovely little elf wench like this around."

"Excuse me?!" I said indignantly. "I am Maynara Valera, Knight of Brindol and a Paladin in the service of ..."

"Oh $#@% she's a paladin!" Herodrith exclaimed. "Right, load the chests up. We're leaving."

"But those are mine!" I protested. "I must deliver them to the dwarves so that they will aid Brindol against the Red Hand of ...."

"Don't care. I hate paladins. You're all brainwashed drones. Tom, White Crow, Neila, let's go."

Without so much as another word Herodrith and Tom secured the chests meant for the dwarves, loaded them into a wagon, and quickly were on their way. White Crow and Neila barely had time to get to the wagon, and before I knew what had happened they were gone, with White Crow bidding me a hasty apology as they drew out of sight.

I hate adventurers.

Dr Bwaa
2012-02-09, 12:17 AM
Heh... poor paladins. They're the only class I know of where even the PCs are , almost without exception, treated as NPCs. I really enjoyed that, especially Herodrith's surprise/disappointment as soon as Maynara mentions the P word.

Another snippet from me coming soon, assuming nothing too crazy happens this weekend.

Tavar
2012-02-09, 01:28 AM
The following is a little intro I wrote for an Exalted game that I might have run.

The Warning

On a night much like any other, in the twilight of his years, Chejop Kejak couldn't sleep. This wasn't unheard of. Discounting the times he'd gone without sleep for weeks at a time, there were still numerous evenings where sleep simply never came. But, with few exceptions, they were limited to his early years. The first couple centuries of an Exalts life almost always being much more hectic than the latter ones. Now, however, he was almost 5 thousand years old, and in that time he'd learned that there was a pattern to these 'exceptions'. Like an old wound that would throb at the approach of a Storm Mother, he found himself unable to sleep with certain, well, Great events. The Beginning of the Contagion, near as he could tell, the disappearance of the Empress, the first whispering of what would lead to the Great Prophecy. Most recently, the return of the Solar Exalted. For that one, he even had as close a ringside seat as anyone else; taking a walk through the Loom, having long since discerned the pattern, such as it was. For an instant, standing in the sudden shower of golden light, even he felt the string of doubt. Maybe, just maybe, their return could set things right.

Making his way to the Bureau, it didn't take long to notice something wrong. There are few enough Sidereals as it is, and so many tasks that needed attention yesterday, if possible. Yet, entering the Bureau, it looked as if every Sidereal was here. At the very least, the great majority. And now something even odder. The normal Celestial Lion detail was standing by, but there was something else. Every the Head of every division, with their lead Vizier, was present. At least, with his arrival, that was true. The fact that Nara-O looked surprised as he approached was simply one of life's little pleasures. The mysterious god quickly seemed to recover, and spoke in his accustomed whisper.

"Kejak, I just sent a messenger for you, but I'm guessing that he missed you. The Maidens have requested your presence."
A gesture to the assembled Elders, "All of you. They're inside."

A quick glance, only lingering a moment on Ayesha Ura, and Kejak advances at a brisk pace. Never one to waste time, either his or others, the pace set was just a tad fast. But the Maidens themselves requesting their presences? It was rare enough for one Maiden to tear herself from the Games, much less all of them.

Entering the Loom, Kejak was, as always, struck for a second in awe. Ten million, million streams of silver, each one an artifact among artifacts, and each one weaving together to form something so much more. In their interplay, the fall of Kings and the simple joys of a child playing in the spring air had equal rank. Being this close to the center of things something sang to his soul. Reminding him that, even in the darkest moments of Creation, that it was worth it.

And among the silver streams stood the maidens plus Luna in the aspect of the navigator. There was silence, for a moment.

They Came. We should hurry.

Yes, we know. But what of...



He won't come.

So they turned, the Six Incarna, facing the eldest exalts in Heaven. And then the stepped aside, showing what was behind them. And there was a gasp. Not from Kejak, though even he only barely held it in. On the floor of the Loom, lay the Sun. But, obviously, no longer could he carry the title Unconquered. Dark Ichor flowed through unhealing wounds, and of his 4 great limbs, only 2 remained whole. The limb carrying the godspear was shattered, and that great weapon along with it. But, more troubling, was the limb that held his aegis. Or, rather, the lack of it, along with a sizable portion of his chest. Also lacking was his normal laurel's, instead clutching a chiped, protean blade. The same one, that whole, currently hung from Luna's hip. The fact that this figure's glow was barely even noticeable almost slipped past, with so many other shocks self-evident.

"Wha-!"

This is not the Sun. Not really.

Or, it is. Simply one from what May Be, or Must Be.

Listen now. We aren't sure how he was sent here, but he came in this condition.

And he is fading. His end comes, and there is nothing any of us can do about it. But-

I have a message.
The figure on the ground spoke, opening his eye as he did so. His normal, strong, vibrant voice a raspy shell of its normal self. But, for all that, it still held that quality of command.

They are coming. From the deep, they come to smother all in an eternal darkness. We fought too late, and too slow. Our fire burned brighter than ever in My memory, but in the end that darkness smothered it as though it were only a lone spark in the night.

We failed. Failed, in the one task that was ever our own choice. And now I can only whisper fragments of what might be. We've sent back all we can, the fiercest sparks that remain. All that remains is to rage, rage against the dying of the light.
With that final exclamation, the wounded god collapses backwards, and fades away, leaving the tattered remains of his panoply as he does so.

Kneeling, Saturn traces an outline of her sign, and gathers the remains.
Thus passes Ignis Divine, the Sun Unconquered, Most High, and Once-Guiding Star.

SleepyShadow
2012-02-09, 01:29 PM
Yet another snippet from the RHoD campaign. This one took place after Brindol fell to the horde thanks to the PCs fleeing.

Good Help is Hard to Bribe
Sam the barkeep knew this scene all too well. Those damned adventurers were back in his tavern, and he knew exactly what they wanted. They dragged a table into the middle of the room (never mind the fact that they did not ask permission), set up their chairs on one side of the table and left a single vacant chair across from them. Sam shook his head and grumbled to himself.

Perhaps half an hour later, a lovely girl entered the tavern, showed the two adventurers a rolled up slip of parchment, then sat down across from them with a smile on her face.

"Greetings," said one of the adventurers, "I'm Tom 'The Finger-Man' Thompson. This here is Herodrith."

"Nice to meet you," the girl replied. "My name is Ellis."

"Ellis, we'll get straight to the point. You saw one of the posters that we hung around town, and since you're here that means you want to be hired."

"Maybe, sir. I have a few questions first."

"It's never a good sign when they ask questions," Herodrith complained.

"I won't be the first companion you've hired, found, or otherwise been accompanied by. Stop me at any point if I'm wrong," Ellis said, her friendly smile slipping into a sly one. "First, you hired on a priest named Yigga. He didn't survive the Witch Wood, killed by minotaurs I believe. You had a brief tryst with an elf woman named Alinora, but she was captured by the Red Hand and not seen again. Your longest lasting companion was a girl from the plains tribe named White Crow. You rescued her from a hobgoblin ambush. She lasted, what, three weeks? Then that poor fellow Smithe ..."

"Jeez, okay, okay," Tom interrupted quickly. "How do you know all of this, anyway?"

"Oh, I pick up a few things here and there," Ellis replied with a wink. "I know all sorts of obscure knowledge like that."

"She's a bard ..." Herodrith groaned.

"So did you come down just to flaunt the fact that you know all of this?" Tom asked irritably.

"Not at all," Ellis answered. "I want to be hired on. You guys have some great stories. Here's the deal though: I want 5,000 gold up front, first pick of any loot we find, and an equal share of all profits."

"Are you nuts? There's no way in hell we'd agree to that!" Herodrith snapped.

"Oh, well, okay," Ellis replied as she rose from her chair. "I guess you don't mind me spreading the word around town. I wonder how many other adventurers you'll be able to pick up if this extremely obscure piece of information suddenly became common knowledge ..."

"You wouldn't dare," Tom snarled.

"Try me," she said in as sweet a voice as could be.

"I hate bards ..." Herodrith sighed, hanging his head low.

"Fine, you have a deal," Tom grumbled, handing her a large belt pouch. "There's your money, just don't tell anyone."

"Thanks very much!" Ellis replied sweetly, taking the bag. "I'll be back after I spend my hard-earned money. Oh by the way, I've got a contingent message spell set up in case I die, so no hard feelings, 'kay? Ciao!"

She skipped out the door, humming a merry tune to herself.

"I hate bards," Herodrith said again.

"I can't believe we just got blackmailed," Tom muttered irritably.

"We got blackmailed by a bard ..." Herodrith sobbed.

Lord_Gareth
2012-02-11, 09:18 AM
Yay! I'll be by to write more soon - after all, I've got the Host of a Thousand Princes to finish!

If someone could be so kind as to dig up the various parts of it, I'll post all of them plus the new one when I finish it out, offering the complete set in one package.

Dr Bwaa
2012-02-20, 03:52 PM
Good to see you, Gareth! I've collected (I'm pretty sure) all the Host of a Thousand Princes snippets and put them in the directory; let me know if I missed any.

Everyone else, I love your snippets and better comments are forthcoming in the next day or so. :smallsmile:

Lord_Gareth
2012-02-20, 04:54 PM
"Monster" is not part of Host of a Thousand Princes. There's also another one that isn't - the one with the motorcycle chase.

Dr Bwaa
2012-02-20, 07:09 PM
Fixed (got distracted by Colors), and do you mean I'm missing one? Certainly not all the stuff you've posted is up there yet; I'm only through about page 10 of the old thread, but I thought I grabbed all of the Host ones (they are pretty clearly labeled in your posts).

Winds
2012-02-20, 10:11 PM
So, I'm a player again. Therefore, snippets!


Journal, entry one: It's been a long day. I'm given to understand that happens a lot for wanderers like us, so maybe I should get used to it...Anyway.

My name is Kalach, and I am a warlock. I'm sure you have reason to be reading this.

I met up with Irthos in a small town. I bear the signs of one who made the warlock's pact with a fiend-dragon, and he was one of the kobold throwbacks that call themselves 'dragonwrought'. I needed a...'locksmith', which he was. He needed the assistance of an arcanist, which I am. An excellent match, in any case.

We later met two of Tempus' followers. One a warrior. Not very original, but the followers of the wargod would hardly be anything else. The other was more interesting. He was more directly blessed by his patron deity, and had the power of a cleric, without the need for study and supplication. A neat trick.

The four of us were hired to investigate an old ruin. It was, however, rather beyond our meager experience. There are few adventurers that can contend with a being that turns others to stone. In the end, we found ourselves trapped in a room containing a great portal. From one entrance we heard a gargantuan serpent, and the other a sound of armored men approaching. So, we dove though the portal, which collapsed behind us. We came out above the sea, and were rescued by fishermen. More lucky contrivances...I mislike it.

In any case, they belonged to a monastery on a secluded isle. They welcomed us easily enough, but tomorrow we work in the fields. There will be no ship to return to the mainland for several months. With luck, however, we can find some other way back.

Dr Bwaa
2012-03-01, 05:14 PM
WHERE DOING IT MAN. WHERE MAKING THIS HAPPEN. (http://www.mspaintadventures.com/sweetbroandhellajeff/)

@Tavar

This is very intense; I love how you've captured the setting and tone. Your use of the various fonts & colors was very well done as well; you bring across very clearly what's going on without needing to say it. Sounds like it would have been a great game :smallbiggrin:

I just had a couple nitpicks; there's a weird tense thing going on in the second paragraph and a couple typos sprinkled around, but nothing awful. This was a really enjoyable read (and again, I find myself wanting to go pick up Exalted...)


@SleepyShadow

Ha! This was fun to read; the interview setup was hilarious (though I wish the PCs would have at least tried to haggle a bit). Ellis is great. You got her cheerful, snarky demeanor down perfectly, and Herodrith's despondent attitude towards bards is so easy to visualize (is there any class he doesn't hate?) I have to admit the very beginning threw me off a bit though-- from the way you began the snippet I was expecting the PCs to be actually interacting with Sam. Keep 'em coming!


@Winds

Oh man, low-level misadventures are the best. Good times. I really liked Kalach's comment at the readers of his journal-- very smooth way to handle the exposition problems inherent in journal entries. I wish that voice was more persistent though; the few paragraphs didn't preserve the sense of who he is as strongly, I felt. Hopefully your group plays more often than mine; I'm really looking forward to seeing where this goes (monk levels for everyone? I certainly hope so).

Winds
2012-03-01, 08:08 PM
I think I see what you mean. Thanks for the input.


Entry two

When I made my pact, I did not expect to be in a situation like this.

We have been at the monastery for two days now. The monks here all have taken a vow of silence, with two exceptions. They have a leader, of sorts, who did not take such a vow. There is a ship from the mainland that comes here once every two months. It is his duty to speak with them. Annoyingly, the ship left somewhat recently. We are required to help on the farms, in the meantime.

Bards. Liars, I'm sure of it. This is not what I was given to believe adventurers did.

The other monk who speaks has evidently forsaken his vows. He seems more merchant than monk, now. Most of what we traded with him was information, as they have no use for gold. We have learned a little about the isle.

First, there is no way we could swim to the mainland. About the isle itself, there is a rather sizable forest covering most of it. It seems to glimmer in the sun...there's something odd about that. The monks want to convert it to farmland. The monks are not warriors, and cannot deal with it. So, we have offered to hunt it down in exchange for use of a smaller ship they have moored here.

Hunting some dangerous beast in exchange for passage. I suppose that's a little closer.

SleepyShadow
2012-03-04, 10:51 PM
is there any class he doesn't hate?

He's the sort of player who firmly believes that the only tier worth playing is Tier One, so as a general rule of thumb he dislikes anything that does not fall into that category. His only exception is the Dread Necromancer. He believes it becomes "Tier Zero" as soon as it hits level 8. :smallsigh:

Back on topic now, this one comes from a more recent adventure that I ran them through after converting Forgotten Realms: Ninja Wars to 3.5.

Unintentional References Work Both Ways
Sumihiro Matsutomo stood proudly at the main gate of the city, waving on travelers as they left or entered the city. It was a warm summer day, and he was glad to be outside rather than stuck at the palace.

A trio of travelers caught his attention as they approached the gate. They were clearly foreigners, and quite strange looking as well. Cautiously, he lowered his spear at them and ordered them to halt.

"Wait," said Herodrith with a wry grin. "This guy looks like Xin Zhao."

"My name is Sumihiro Matsutomo!" the warrior barked.

"Whatever Xin," Tom laughed. "Just don't grab your Atma's Impaler and we'll be fine."

"Xin's O.P.," Niani giggled.

Matsutomo glared at the travelers, but waved them silently into the city.


***

The meeting with Lord Benju was almost complete. The only thing left to do was have ceremonial tea to finalize the deal with the adventurers. Benju was clearly relieved to have outside help. He waved over his shoulder to beckon forth Sono, the palace minstrel. She sat silently down beside Benju and began to play her shamisan, the music ...

"Did you say Sono?" Tom interrupted.

"Does she have blue hair and big boobs?" Herodrith cackled. "You said she was silent. Is she mute?"

"No, she's not ..." Benju growled.

"Poor Sona, nobody likes support girls," Herodrith laughed.

"Her name is Sono," Benju corrected.

"Well I see why Benju keeps Sona around," Tom stated. "Huge knockers."

"Get out of my palace," Lord Benju snapped, pointing to the door.


***

Karima leaped out at the foreigners from the tree tops, laughing delightedly at their startled reaction. The monkey hengeyokai bowed low before them ...

"Time out," Herodrith said quickly. "He's a monkey man?"

"Close enough!" Karima laughed. "My name is Karima, and I ..."

"Wu Kong," Herodrith interrupted.

"Karima."

"Wu Kong," Tom stated firmly.

"Seriously, cut it out ..." Karima sighed.


***

The party stood triumphant over the vanquished Eichiro Tanaka, the man who had attempted to sabotage the summer festival and discredit Lord Benju. However, before celebrations could begin, there was a deafening crackle of thunder, and three powerful looking ninjas appeared in the center of the street. The crowd parted quickly as they strode calmly toward the party. Herodrith and Tom looked at each other and smirked.

"Oh, what is it this time?" one of the ninjas sighed.

"A team of three ninjas in this adventure?" Herodrith laughed. "The gnome clearly has lightning powers due to the thunder noise, the chick probably dual-wields kamas, and the dude is probably really beefy and will be a pain to kill."

"I haven't even told you races or genders yet ..." the lead ninja grumbled.

"No need," Tom said. "It's the Triumvirate of Shadow."

"The what?"

"Kennen, Akali, and Shen!" Herodrith laughed uproariously as he pointed at the three ninjas.

"I hate you guys ..." the lead ninja grumbled.

Sometimes my players can be a pain :smallannoyed:

TheCountAlucard
2012-03-08, 09:21 PM
The following Snippet has been spruced up from my memories of a game I played years ago. Enjoy. :smallsmile:

Tournament
The third round of Kokage's tournament was underway; the last match would be between Shichirou and Sah Mi. Shichirou had been unable to observe his opponent in the previous rounds; the Immaculate had kept him too busy. He still hadn't fully healed from that fight, either; his lungs still felt as though they were burning.

Shichirou first stripped to the waist, then gulped some water. The Flaming Arena was packed, and Kokage seemed pleased. As the Solar stepped into the ring, he saw Sah Mi do the same. His opponent was dark-skinned and as rugged as stone. Shichirou bowed, and Sah Mi returned his gesture. The bronze-skinned god stood, and with his proclamation, the match began.

"Fight!"

Shichirou surged forward, charging his opponent, throwing three punches. Two landed, but Sah Mi did not flinch; Shichirou observed with bemusement that the stony floor of the arena seemed to show some damage. Rather than retaliate, though, Sah Mi dropped prone, touching his forehead to the floor, before chunks of the rock rose up to cover his body completely.

"Interesting tactic," Shichirou said, and then laced his fingers together and hammered at Sah Mi's back. The force of his blow once more rippled down the foe's body and cracked the floor. Sah Mi stood, and grabbed Shichirou in a stony bear-hug. The brawler attempted to stand his ground, but his foe now towered over him, and so Shichirou was lifted off his feet.

"Patient Rockslide taught me well." Sah Mi began to squeeze the struggling Shichirou with his monstrous arms. His grip was stronger than a vice; the stone itself was actually crumbling from the force. Shichirou's breath left him, but he was not injured; the brawler had poured his spiritual strength into a moment of invulnerability, the mark of the Dawn Caste shining on his forehead.

Shichirou continued to struggle against Sah Mi; finally he slipped free of his foe's embrace and fell to the floor. He unleashed another series of rapid-fire blows at the earthen-armored man, channeling the pain in his hands to fuel a fierce, bellowing kiai. Sah Mi shrugged off the blows and lifted Shichirou again, pinned the brawler's arms to his sides, and squeezed harder.

Shichirou's caste mark burned brighter as Sah Mi squeezed; soon he would have no protection from the stone-skinned giant's crushing grasp. Shichirou suddenly twisted and slammed his head into Sah Mi's, causing chips of rubble to fall from the force of the impact. The martial artist tightened his grip until the cracking of ribs was audible.

"Why won't you go down?" he thundered.

"YOU FIRST!" shouted Shichirou, channeling all his strength into another headbutt. This time, it shattered through Sah Mi's stone armor, which began to crumble into gravel as he fell. Shichirou pulled himself to his feet, and for the first time, was able to hear the roaring of the crowd around him as they cheered his victory.

Letting out a ragged breath, Shichirou looked to his unconcious opponent. "Patient Rockslide did teach you well."

Burnheart
2012-03-09, 03:10 PM
The following Snippet has been spruced up from my memories of a game I played years ago. Enjoy. :smallsmile:

Tournament
The third round of Kokage's tournament was underway; the last match would be between Shichirou and Sah Mi. Shichirou had been unable to observe his opponent in the previous rounds; the Immaculate had kept him too busy. He still hadn't fully healed from that fight, either; his lungs still felt as though they were burning.

Shichirou first stripped to the waist, then gulped some water. The Flaming Arena was packed, and Kokage seemed pleased. As the Solar stepped into the ring, he saw Sah Mi do the same. His opponent was dark-skinned and as rugged as stone. Shichirou bowed, and Sah Mi returned his gesture. The bronze-skinned god stood, and with his proclamation, the match began.

"Fight!"

Shichirou surged forward, charging his opponent, throwing three punches. Two landed, but Sah Mi did not flinch; Shichirou observed with bemusement that the stony floor of the arena seemed to show some damage. Rather than retaliate, though, Sah Mi dropped prone, touching his forehead to the floor, before chunks of the rock rose up to cover his body completely.

"Interesting tactic," Shichirou said, and then laced his fingers together and hammered at Sah Mi's back. The force of his blow once more rippled down the foe's body and cracked the floor. Sah Mi stood, and grabbed Shichirou in a stony bear-hug. The brawler attempted to stand his ground, but his foe now towered over him, and so Shichirou was lifted off his feet.

"Patient Rockslide taught me well." Sah Mi began to squeeze the struggling Shichirou with his monstrous arms. His grip was stronger than a vice; the stone itself was actually crumbling from the force. Shichirou's breath left him, but he was not injured; his moment of invulnerability over, his caste mark began to shine on his forehead.

The Dawn Caste continued to struggle against Sah Mi; finally he slipped free of his foe's embrace and fell to the floor. He unleashed another series of rapid-fire blows at the earthen-armored man, channeling the pain in his hands to fuel a fierce, bellowing kiai. Sah Mi shrugged off the blows and lifted Shichirou again, pinned the brawler's arms to his sides, and squeezed harder.

Shichirou's caste mark burned brighter as Sah Mi squeezed; his invulnerability would soon fail. Shichirou suddenly twisted and slammed his head into Sah Mi's, causing chips of rubble to fall from the force of the impact. The martial artist tightened his grip until the cracking of ribs was audible.

"Why won't you go down?" he thundered.

"YOU FIRST!" shouted Shichirou, channeling all his strength into another headbutt. This time, it shattered through Sah Mi's stone armor, which began to crumble into gravel as he fell. Shichirou pulled himself to his feet, and for the first time, was able to hear the roaring of the crowd around him as they cheered his victory.

Letting out a ragged breath, Shichirou looked to his unconcious opponent. "Patient Rockslide did teach you well."

Cool story, did you pull off a 3 dot stunt in that fight? I'd guess you pulled a 2 dot ones at least.

TheCountAlucard
2012-03-09, 03:13 PM
It was a smattering of one-and-two-die stunts.

Dr Bwaa
2012-03-10, 07:29 PM
I swear I'm working on something guys, but I'm having trouble locking it down satisfactorily. So for now, comment dump!

@Winds
I like this one a lot; your voice is much stronger here. I like that you're keeping these journal entries short, not stuffing them full of exposition that would be obvious common knowledge in-character. You're doing a really good job giving just enough to tell what's going on.

@SleepyShadow
Ohhhh man. It's times like that when you just want to throw an angry, blind, epic-level monk named "See Lin" at them for crimes against the nation. Or have them rescue a little girl, only to have her set them all on fire in their sleep and summon a Dire Fire Bear to eat them.

...was this all in the same session?

@TheCountAlucard
I'm a little confused by Shichirou's invulnerability and caste mark and so on, but I feel that comes from ignorance of the system rather than your writing. Game mechanics aside, I was a little surprised to learn that his "invulnerability would soon fail" a few paragraphs after his invulnerability being "over", though. This was a very enjoyable read though; must have been an intense session.

TheCountAlucard
2012-03-10, 11:12 PM
I'm a little confused by Shichirou's invulnerability and caste mark and so on, but I feel that comes from ignorance of the system rather than your writing.I'll try and clarify a bit, then. :smallsmile:

The Exalted were created by the gods to defeat the Primordials in the time before the First Age. Even then, the gods had different roles in mind for them, hence the making of different "castes." For the Solar Exalted, castes can be discerned by a usually-invisible mark on their brow that glows as they use their power.

Shichirou is what's known as a "Dawn Caste," which were the warriors and generals, unparalleled masters of the martial disciplines of the Exalted host. The caste mark of a Dawn is that of a golden sunburst.


Game mechanics aside, I was a little surprised to learn that his "invulnerability would soon fail" a few paragraphs after his invulnerability being "over", though.I've rewritten it, can you tell me if it looks a little clearer now?


This was a very enjoyable read though; must have been an intense session.Thanks, it was. :smallcool:

SleepyShadow
2012-03-11, 01:32 PM
...was this all in the same session?

The module is fairly short, so yes this all occurred in the same session. :smallannoyed:

I had read through the module before running them through it, but the only thing that I had noticed was the Sono/Sona bit. However, I don't go out of my way to find "easter eggs", as one of my players puts it.

Yet another snippet, this one from a session later in the campaign when one player had to leave early.

Should We Tell the Druid?
Norimo Miyuka was a proud young samurai from the Crane clan, but up until now she had never been given an assignment of great import. However, that all changed when The Red Hand of Doom began to pour into her beloved homeland of Kara-Tur.

When a wu-jen from her clan had divined that the leader of the Red Hand was searching for a ritual of some kind to attain godhood, the task had befallen Miyuka to find experienced adventurers and to assist them in whatever way she could (within reasonable decency of course, she thought to herself).

Now she found herself a thousand miles from home, deep beneath the earth in the legendary Tomb of Horrors. Miyuka traveled in the company of the only surviving adventurers who had encountered the Red Hand and lived to tell the tale, though the tales she had heard were less than impressive. Herodrith, Tom, and Niani were hardly the bold and daring heroes she had hoped them to be, but perhaps they merely needed someone to show them the way.

Miyuka sighed as she sat down across from her companions. The three adventurers seemed to argue among themselves quite frequently, and often about things she did not understand. In recent memory, they had argued about whether they could put wand chambers into wands, whether Niani needed a saddle to ride her animal companion, and even whether Miyuka was really wearing cloth armor or if it was actually glamoured full plate.

The young samurai tuned them out and tried to meditate as she waited for them to resolve their argument, but an icy chill ran up her spine when she heard Herodrith mention her name.

"Miyuka is just an expendable resource," the priest said bluntly.

"Aye, but I doubt we'll get another sweet treat like her," Tom laughed. "Nice and tough, nice flanking partner, nice ass, nice rack, and nice blonde hair. What's not to like? You'd just hire a sweaty barbarian dude or something."

"Barbarian? Ugh, no. I'd hire a wizard."

"And you two wonder why no one ever wants to stay in the group," Niani grumbled.

"I am not a resource to be cast off on a whim," Miyuka said defiantly.

"Oh, you were paying attention?" Herodrith asked, surprised.

"I am always aware of my surroundings," the samurai replied. "I would ask that you never refer to me as expendable again. Oh, and Tom, keep your wandering eyes to yourself lest you find them removed from your skull."

"That's not a nice thing to do ..." Tom replied sheepishly.

"I'm a good person, not a nice one," Miyuka said flatly.

"You two are hopeless," Niani sighed. "Anyway, I have to go. Don't let anything bad happen, okay?"

"No promises," Herodrith grumbled.

"Definition of 'bad'?" Tom asked.

"I will defend the peace of Faerun with my life," Miyuka said boldly, rising to her feet and bowing to the little halfling.

Niani sighed, turned into an owl, and flew back the way the group had come. The three pressed on, Miyuka opting to take point, though she entrusted Tom to decide what path to follow. At length they encountered a heavily reinforced door that took several minutes to batter their way through.

They were making good time down the hall when the floor suddenly dropped out from beneath their feet, and Miyuka found herself sliding down a steep ramp that terminated in a massive pit of lava. Thinking fast, she drew her wakizashi and plunged it into the stone ramp. She silently thanked her ancestors as the blade stuck firmly, though now she found herself dangling only a few feet above the deadly pool of lava. Not surprisingly, her two companions had saved themselves through some magical means, as they both hovered in mid-air at the top of the ramp.

"Help me!" she cried out.

"I can't lift her," Tom said to Herodrith.

"You're in melee all the time," Herodrith countered.

"Weapon Finesse, duh. What's your excuse for not getting her?"

"You're stronger than me, and my full plate and tower shield already heavily encumber me."

"Hey Miyuka, how much do you weigh?" Tom shouted down to her.

"About sixty-three kilograms, but what does that have to do with anything?" Miyuka replied, puzzled.

"Uh, can I get that in pounds?"

"Just throw me a rope or something!"

The two hovering adventurers looked at her as if she was a small child that had said something foolish.

"No one has mundane items nowadays," Herodrith said reproachfully.

"Rope and grappling hook, I remember the days," Tom laughed.

To Miyuka's horror, the two adventurers began to lazily fly away, leaving her dangling at the edge of the pit. The heat was oppressive, and she knew that her arms would tire long before the trap reset itself.

"I'll hire a wizard," she heard Herodrith say.

"Why not a sorceress?" Tom's voice echoed.

"Meh ... only a well-built one."

"Well-built? I like the sound of that. Should we tell the druid?"

Miyuka's heart sank when she heard the heavy iron door slam shut, finalizing her abandonment. Still, she would not give up just yet. Carefully, she drew her katana with her right hand and drove it into the stone ramp with all her might. A cold smile crept across her lips when she found the hold was firm.

Norimo Miyuka would make it clear to Tom and Herodrith why it is unwise to abandon a samurai of the Crane clan.

Winds
2012-03-11, 09:45 PM
I think I detect incoming 'fun' for SleepyShadow's party.

Thanks again for the critique, lordhenry. I'm enjoying taking it by days rather than sessions.

Maybe I should have stuck to farming...
Entry three

I wanted the glory of a true adventure.

I'm an idiot.

We went into the forest today. The glimmering we noticed earlier was light. Somehow, the leaves of the trees reflect it, allowing no light into the forest.

Irthos and the dwarf...Logrim, I think?...both have the ability to perceive things without light. For myself, the invocation that grants me darksight did not function within the forest. So we had to navigate by the ability of kobolds and dwarves to see heat. Even blind, we found the beast easily enough. After a fashion. Whoever said that humanoids are the most dangerous game should try hunting this thing. Faster than sight could follow, huge, and able to breathe fire. Given the ability of the trees to reflect light, this blinded us. My eyes still hurt.

A larger surprise was that it could talk. With us helpless, it asked what we were doing here. It was not concerned with the idea that we would try to harm it, but it thought we were trying to reach something in the forest. He agreed to guide us to it after learning our names.

Our arrival was preordained. I've heard bards spin this type of tale, and they rarely end well.

We emerged into a clearing where we could see properly. The beast in question was a great tiger. Substantially larger than us, and bearing the scars of many battles. We never would have stood a chance.

The object it guarded was an immense obelisk. The great beast opened it and bid us enter.

Now, we are to be tested. A figment of a human explained that this obelisk, which predates written history, bears the power to call upon the gods. Each contains a sword, and a stone to place it in. The person who does so can claim the land around the device as an extension of the deity's plane. And it is our task to do so. Our opponent in this race is Asmodeus. Two war-mongers that worship Tempus, a kobold who worships the god of dragons, and a devil-tainted warlock. And we are to oppose the lord of the Nine Hells.

I hate prophecy.

About the darkvision bit: our DM has read several books wherein natural darkvision was infrared, so our group agreed to treat it that way in-game instead of the black-and-white vision listed in the mechanics. The DM had a particular reason why warlock darkvison wouldn't work, but I didn't ask about it.

Dr Bwaa
2012-03-13, 10:50 AM
@TheCountAlucard
It's much clearer now. Actually (not to be a huge pain (who am I kidding)), the first time you mention his caste mark now feels a little too expositional to me.


...the brawler had poured his spiritual strength into a moment of invulnerability, and so the mark of the Dawn Caste shined on his forehead.

I think it's the "and so" that does it. Now that I think about it, that's a construction that doesn't see a lot of use outside fairy tales & the bible, which is maybe why it stands out to me. If I were to rework it I'd probably go with something like "...the brawler had poured his spiritual strength into a moment of invulnerability, the mark of the Dawn Caste shining on his forehead." I also generally prefer 'shone' as a past tense and 'shined' as a past participle, but frankly there's a lot of precedence for both words used basically interchangeably, so now I'm just being obnoxious. STOPPING NOW.

@SleepyShadow
Reactions:

Herodrith, Tom, and Niani were hardly the bold and daring heroes she had hoped them to be, but perhaps they merely needed someone to show them the way.
Nooooo Miyuka, nooooooooo. That way lies madness!


"Miyuka is just an expendable resource," the priest said bluntly.
I told you!! Run while you can!


Miyuka opting to take point
NOOOOOOOOO


Norimo Miyuka would make it clear to Tom and Herodrith why it is unwise to abandon a samurai of the Crane clan.
See if you can kill them with some mundane rope :smallwink:

This was a lot of fun to read. Glad to see your party is consistent in its treatment of NPCs (I hope Miyuka doesn't get her clan involved in her retribution though; that can only end in tears). Also, I understand the reason for it ooc, but man would I be terrified of going anywhere in the ToH alone, even if I was flying and only going exactly where I'd gone before.

Nitpick:

Nice and tough, nice flanking partner, nice ass, nice rack, and nice blonde hair.
Normally, lists do use commas like you do here, but since the list isn't actually part of a sentence, you need to treat each clause like a short fragment-sentence of its own, so they should be separated with semicolons instead (with the exception of the last one: "comma-and" is actually correct here, since it is an appropriate separator for independent clauses).

@Winds
Minor nitpick: "For myself" is a pretty awkward way to start a sentence; "myself" really needs something to refer back to; I don't think it can stand alone in a prepended dependent clause. "Personally" or "In my case" would read better in my opinion.

However! This is my favorite installment yet in this series. Kalach's voice has been getting steadily stronger, and with the plot starting to pick up as well, you've definitely got me hooked. This kind of "prophesied test of strength" scenario seems like just exactly the kind of thing Kalach would hate, as a guy who's just genre-savvy enough to know when he's a Pawn of Greater Forces™.

Man, I'm a pedantic jerk when I'm supposed to be working. Forgive me!

EDIT: Forgive me because I'm updating the archive again as we speak?

EDIT2: I'll have a snippet for you guys soon (so someone post so I don't double-dip). I'm putting together the events of the longest single session I've ever been involved in (a little over 14 straight hours), and I've finally got the whole thing blocked out, so expect the first chapter of that story sometime in the next day or two.

Winds
2012-03-14, 06:57 PM
*insert thing to say here*

As requested!

The 'for myself' grammar bit may be a regional difference. I've not been told it was incorrect, but it's not all that big a deal.

SleepyShadow
2012-03-15, 12:39 AM
This was a lot of fun to read. Glad to see your party is consistent in its treatment of NPCs (I hope Miyuka doesn't get her clan involved in her retribution though; that can only end in tears).

She never encountered them again. Shortly after they finished ToH, they went to Tovag Baragu for the exciting conclusion to the campaign ala Die Vecna Die!


Also, I understand the reason for it ooc, but man would I be terrified of going anywhere in the ToH alone, even if I was flying and only going exactly where I'd gone before.

Even if you're a 12th level druid? :smallwink:

Speaking of Tovag Baragu, this incident is largely my fault. I forgot I was recycling an NPC from a very short-lived campaign before this one.

Do We Know Him or Not?
"Okay, so we've been portal hopping for ages, and all we've found are Red Hand agents and Vecna cultists. We're completely lost," Herodrith grumbled.

"We're not lost," Niani said. "We just don't know where we are, where we're going, or how to get back."

"Stupid ..." Tom muttered.

"We know where we're going," Herodrith sighed. "We just don't know how to get there."

While the adventurers had been talking among themselves, they were unaware that they were being watched ... until now. With a maniacal laugh, a small figure sprang from the shadows. The purple-clad kenku swept his wide-brimmed hat from his head and gave the adventurers a mocking bow.

"Well hello boys and girls," the kenku cackled. "What can I do to make you laugh?"

"Who are you?" Tom asked, puzzled.

"Oh god, not him!" Herodrith wailed.

"We need to run!" Niani shrieked.

"What, is it my breath?" the kenku asked.

"Am I missing something?" Tom questioned, still confused. "Why are you so afraid of him, and why does he sound like Mark Hamill?"

"This guy 3v1'd us at level 4," Herodrith said. "Killed us all."

"Well before you completely break the fourth wall," the kenku sighed, "I believe you are referring to another group of adventurers. They looked so happy and comfy in their coffins!"

"What exactly is going on?" Tom grumbled.

"Oh forgive my manners, the name is Shambus," the kenku replied. "As for what happened, I just kept those other adventurers entertained long enough for their battle spells to wear off. All those spells the Big Bad Wizard cast before coming into the room ... turns out the Big Bads aren't so bad without their tricks."

"I hate bards," Herodrith growled.

"So what are you doing here?" Niani asked timidly.

"Little ol' me? Why, I'm flattered you'd ask! I'm a follower of Vecna," Shambus cackled.

"Guys, we can't let him keep talking," Herodrith said.

"How do we know we can trust you?" Tom asked, ignoring Herodrith.

"Obviously, you can't," Shambus laughed. "But I'm the only one around here that can give you a push in the right direction, so you really don't have an option."

"You know the way?" Niani asked, hopeful.

"I do indeed, my diminutive debutante. In fact, I'll even clue you in on something you might not have figured out. If nothing else, it'll be news to the stiffs," Shambus said, pointing at Tom and Herodrith.

"Seriously, someone shut him up," Herodrith said worriedly.

"What do you have to say?" Niani asked.

"All these portals you've been gallantly hopping through don't take you to new parts of Tovag Baragu," Shambus explained as he perched atop a stone archway. "They take you to new planes. Yes, that's right, you've been plane-hopping from one Tovag Baragu to another!"

"Guys, we can't let him keep talking!" Herodrith said angrily.

"What is the issue," Tom grumbled, annoyed.

"He has Perform (Oratory) as his maxed skill! He can talk and fascinate at the same time!"

"Well since the meta-game has been let out of the bag," Shambus sighed, "you might as well know that I have the Subsonics feat, so I've been using my fascination this whole time."

"Wait, what?"

"So, how 'bout them Will Saves?"

TheCountAlucard
2012-03-15, 01:56 PM
It's much clearer now. Actually, the first time you mention his caste mark now feels a little too expositional to me.

I think it's the "and so" that does it.Actually, I think you're right. Made the changes.

Vixsor Lumin
2012-03-16, 10:00 PM
Long time lurker, first time poster! This storys setting takes place in a campaign I'm currentlly in, but it takes place before the campaign starts.

A quiet day in hell

Falthor woke up in the growing twilight. The clouds that constantly covered the Lower Planes thinned, allowing the light of Hellfire to light his room. He opened his eyes quickly and immediatelly scanned the room. Most of the room was lit well enough to see, but in the reccesses of it shadows his darkvision cut in. Satisfied that the room was unoccupied except for him he got out of bed. Looking out the window he stared at the little village he was in. It was a hovel to be sure, but it was where his work had taken him. He had taken a job guarding the city from demons, but it was a slow job. Still it wasn't one to put off. He got out of bed and pulled on his mythril shirt. He pulled the chain of his pendant out from beneath it. The Shadows Knight wasn't something to keep hidden, even if he didn't want to accept the burden that came with it. He drew his bow as he stepped out of his room in preperation for the day. It was a good thing he did, for there was a devil camped behind his door. It attacked him with a jagged blade as long as his arm. He dove back and narrowlly missed the tip of the sword. It buried itself in the frame of the door, stuck. Without wasting a second he drew his bow and jumped back 5 feet, loosing an arrow as he did so. The arrow tore through the monsters throat spraying acidic blood across the hall. Shaking his head, he took a few steps forward. Looking down at the now pitiful beast he said, "you've been getting sloppy." He chuckels to himself as he steps into the dark corridor and dissapeared into the shadows.

Winds
2012-03-18, 09:57 PM
Nice start, Vixsor. Sounds like there's some history to that character.

Moral tests

We have destroyed the first obelisk. There were no proper traps within-we were tested in several ways, with greed being first.

There was a huge door, flanked by two normal doors. On the left, a room with a huge amount of treasure. I don't think all the dragons in Faerun have so much. And somehow, I think the protections would have been similar. We left it alone. In the room on the right, simply a small bowl and a sign that read 'tithe'.

"So...is this a tithe of our treasure, or that huge pile?"

"Good question. We would be here for months if it's the pile. Let's start with ours."

That was right. The huge pile vanished. A good thing we didn't mess with it.

There were several such tests. We were sent many places, and tested many times. Most notable were when we saved an old man from bandits...at the cost of letting them keep the wagon he and his daughter were on. Irthos gave them a gem he had found earlier. He confided later that he had planned on saving it for a ritual that would give him the power to use magic.

A ritual that consumes a gemstone to imbue him with magic. Kobolds are more dangerous than I thought.

Also of note was when we were sent to an old woman's cottage. We helped prepare her home for an important guest...I tried to help her cook. I'm good with magic, cooking can't be that hard...But, well, the disciplines aren't related. I tried to make a pie and got a tiny golem.

I really didn't think that was possible. Particularly as an accident.

But, we did bring down the tower. The blade hidden in the tower was the sort most humans could only use with both hands.

I don't know why Irthos took it. It looked ridiculous.

On the other hand, I have an apple pie golem watching me write this.

We made a deal with the guardian beast. He wanted to leave the isle, so he gave us a lost tooth kept in a pouch around his neck as proof that we had defeated him. We were given use of the ship, and are now on our way to the mainland, with the guardian on board.

One major occurrence while we sailed. We saw the shadow of a huge beast deep in the water. It was larger than the monk's isle...and the guardian said that beasts like this will flood into our world until the obelisks controlled by the devils are dealt with.

A chilling thought. Particularly if a leviathan such as that were loosed on the land.

Winds
2012-03-19, 09:19 AM
Can you imagine how uncomfortable it was traveling on a small boat with a large predator for days on end. Who knows what it would have done if it found your snoring annoying.

You did say it was CR 28. We wouldn't have known the difference until the celestial paperwork got sorted.

Dr Bwaa
2012-03-19, 10:57 AM
Even if you're a 12th level druid? :smallwink:
That would take the edge off a little, I admit.


The 'for myself' grammar bit may be a regional difference. I've not been told it was incorrect, but it's not all that big a deal.
The trouble with language is that not everyone speaks the same one, even when they supposedly do speaks exactly like I do. :smallsigh:

@SleepyShadow
I've been generally enjoying these ooc/4th-wall incidents, but this one bothered me a little; I'm not too sure why. I guess it just seemed a little less tongue-in-cheek than the others have been. I'm glad the players seem to have failed their OOC will saves, though (or at least Tom's and Niani's players). That's always entertaining as the DM.

Shambus, by the way, is great. He's a perfectly characterized kenku.

@Vixsor Lumin
Nice first snippet! I like Falthor's attitude; I'm interested to see where this goes (and why a tiny little village like this even exists on the Lower Planes somewhere, evidently in close enough proximity to badness that it needs to hire a full-time Demon Guard. How can they afford to pay him?). Also for some reason I really like the phrase "growing twilight." Keep it up!

Nitpick: a hovel is basically a shack, and it sounds like you're using the word to describe the village Falthor is in. If you're referring to the building Falthor is sleeping in, I'd just try to make that a little clearer.

Otherwise, a couple of formatting-related things--if you broke this snippet up into a few paragraphs, it would be a bit easier to read. Also, any time saying a number takes only one word, by convention you should write the word out rather than use the numeral (so "five" instead of "5", or "thirteen" rather than "13"). In this case, though, I'd honestly remove the number altogether. It feels unnecessarily mechanical to me, whereas something like "...drew his bow and jumped back, loosing an arrow as he did so" communicates the action just as well, without reminding me explicitly that this happened in a game in which the smallest unit of movement is the five-foot-step.

@Winds

But, well, the disciplines aren't related. I tried to make a pie and got a tiny golem.

Stop making me laugh; I'm at work.


On the other hand, I have an apple pie golem watching me write this.

What did I just say? (Please make more apple pie golems. Use them for everything. Oh man.)

The only thing I found a little off-putting in this snippet was the ship transition. So far, these entries have all been quite short, not encompassing very much time, but suddenly this one covers a whole slew of trials (which makes sense; Kalach probably didn't have time to make entries while dealing with the Obelisk), and then goes on to include "while we sailed." That makes me feel like there have been a few days of sailing past already, which was a bit of a jolt. I don't think it would have been a stretch to put the leviathan sighting in its own journal entry.

I can't believe how long it's taking me to write this thing. It's really just an introduction to the rest of the story, which is part of the problem I'm having--not a whole lot actually happens. Bluh. Hopefully I'll lose patience with trying to get it perfect and put it up later today.

SleepyShadow
2012-03-19, 02:07 PM
I guess it just seemed a little less tongue-in-cheek than the others have been.

That's because it wasn't tongue-in-cheek, sadly. While the others have more or less just been ooc slips, Herodrith's player was intentionally metagaming that time. It annoyed me.


Shambus, by the way, is great. He's a perfectly characterized kenku.

Thanks :smallbiggrin:

This next one is more or less a collection of mini-snippets about the reactions my players had to some of the more memorable Red Hand agents along the road of the campaign.

The Red Hand Has Unusual Henchmen

Vronti Spathi

The captain had been looking forward to the arrival of the interlopers for some time now. He had made sure that the defenses posted near the entrance to the newly captured temple of Vecna were light. He wanted those adventurers to make it to the bridge. The blue half-dragon checked his armor straps one last time, his long tail twitching back and forth with anticipation. He glanced over his shoulder at his two companions: hobgoblin blackguards, members of the elite of the Red Hand of Doom. Just outside the door he could hear the death cries of the guards he had posted. Amateurs made a wonderful mess of things, forcing those adventurers to spend precious spells and other resources.

Vronti picked up his sword and shield, giving a nod to his companions. The door on the other side of the bridge opened, and Vronti Spathi was pleased to see Tom, Niani, and Herodrith enter.

"This is where we hold them!" Vronti bellowed, inspiring the hobgoblins to greatness. "This is where we fight! This is where they die!"

"And this is why I told you not to use your high-level spells on the mooks we've been fighting along the way," Tom said reproachfully.

"What?" Herodrith replied with a shrug. "I didn't know there would be a boss fight already."



Those Damned Ninjas

"Look, I'm sorry about your wolf," Herodrith sighed. "I didn't know there was a Sphere of Annihilation under the bridge."

"I'm not mad about that," Niani replied. "I just wish you'd memorize something other than combat spells."

"That's your job."

"Yeah, but druid's can't magically conjure up the answer to a riddle," Tom stated.

"Riddles are stupid," Herodrith grumbled. "I didn't think it would take us half an hour to figure out that the answer was 'teeth'."

"At least now we have the Hand of Vecna," Niani said cheerfully.

Herodrith started to say something, but was cut off when a figure lunged from the shadows and drove his shoulder into Herodrith's chest. The necropolitan's ribs broke with a sickening crunch. The attacker backed momentarily.

"Hey look, Shen came back!" Niani giggled.

"Oh right, they did get away," Herodrith said thoughtfully, ignoring his broken ribs. "I forgot what those ninjas' real names were."

"I thought as much," Shen grumbled.

"We whooped you guys last time," Tom chuckled. "We're going to do it again."

"Not this time," the ninja replied as he folded his arms over his chest defiantly. "We have become more powerful than you could hope to defeat."

"We got a serious rematch going on here," said a much smaller figure as it emerged from the shadows.

"Aww, Kennen is so cute," Niani cooed delightedly. "Him's a wittle ninja."

"Look, my name is not ... okay, fine, whatever, you guys win the name argument," Kennen groused.

"Hey look, I beat the ninjas in initiative," Tom laughed.

He stepped forward and swung his blade at Shen.

"Steely Resolve!" the ninja shouted just as Tom struck, and the blade rebounded harmlessly off his shoulder.

"Wait, time out," Herodrith said quickly. "What the hell was that?"

"Most of my levels are Crusader," Shen answered with a low chuckle. "Now if you'll excuse me, I believe I have another attack to ignore."

"What about the midget?" Tom asked as Shen dodged his second swing.

"I'm a Jade Phoenix Mage who likes electricity spells," Kennen replied as he cast Lightning Bolt.

"Tome of Battle is so OP," Tom whined.

"It's been allowed since the beginning," Niani reminded him as she cast Resist Energy. "You could have used it, too."

"Don't worry," Herodrith said calmly before casting Divine Power. "It's two against three. We've got this."

"I thought all three of them got away," Niani said, puzzled.

"Yeah, where's Akali?" Tom asked.

It was then that a third figure sprang from the shadows, landing a kick to the back of Tom's head and striking him twice with both of her kamas. The rogue collapsed to the ground, unconscious and bleeding.

"Telflammar Shadow Lord ..." Herodrith sighed. "Should have guessed."

"You've been waiting to do that this whole time, haven't you?" Niani giggled.

"Pretty much," Akali replied with a nod.

"I *had* to ask," Tom grumbled.

"Hush, you're unconscious," Akali reminded him.



White Crow Returns

"Red Hand hobgoblins, zombies, hobgoblin zombies, a giant flesh golem made out of hands, and a creepy dancing witch," Tom listed off the things they had killed as they trudged through Vecna's palace. "Did I miss anything?"

"Nope, I think that's it," Niani replied.

"Can we rest yet?" Herodrith asked for the umpteenth time.

"We are on a time limit," Niani reminded him. "We don't have time to rest. Just be conservative with your spells."

"He's really bad at that," Tom said. "That's why we lost the battle of Brindol."

"How was I supposed to know there was going to be more than three fights?" Herodrith groaned exasperatedly.

"I warned you at the start of the battle, but you never did listen to me, did you?" answered a woman's voice from down the hall.

Although her clothes were different and she no longer was adorned with her customary beads and feathers, the raven-haired beauty striding toward them was unmistakable.

"White Crow!" Niani cried delightedly as she rushed forward. "You're alive!"

White Crow knelt down to reciprocate the halfling's embrace, wrapping her arms around the tiny druid in a tight hug.

"Okay, what's going on here?" Herodrith asked suspiciously. "You died. I was there, we all were, and I know for a fact that I didn't pay to have you resurrected."

"I don't understand why you didn't," White Crow said. "I had been a loyal companion to you all, and I know you had the money for it."

"You guys told me we were too broke to resurrect her," Niani said.

"Well I guess we could have, but it was cheaper just to hire a new henchman than to bring her back," Herodrith replied with a shrug.

"I see how little worth I held to you, even back then," White Crow said bitterly.

"Saying that to her face is pretty cold," Tom grumbled.

"What happened to you, White Crow?" Niani asked.

"After Brindol fell, I was resurrected, but not by any of you," White Crow answered coldly. "The Red Hand recognized me as one of the adventurers attempting to put a stop to them, so the brought me back in hopes of learning more about the three of you. Though they tortured me, I told them nothing at first, hoping in vain that you three would come rescue me. No amount of physical or magical pain wrought upon me could wrest the knowledge from my lips. But you never came. So many days passed that I lost track, and lost hope of being rescued. Eventually I told them everything I knew about you three."

"Traitor," Herodrith hissed.

"You dare have the gall to call me a traitor after you abandoned me and left me at the mercy of those filthy hobgoblins?" White Crow snapped angrily. "Once they had pried every last secret from me, they left me as a plaything for the second-in-command."

"I'm so sorry, White Crow," Niani said sadly. "What did he do to you?"

"What any vampire lord would have done," White Crow replied with a wicked grin before sinking her fangs into the halfling's neck.

Dr Bwaa
2012-03-19, 06:31 PM
Welcome to Joseph's Gap
or: Worse than City Guards

The midmorning sun glares at us from over the mountains. I glare back, blinking tiredness from my eyes and considering, not for the first time, that almost any other means of travel would be preferable to riding giant owls all through the night. Only Namia seems able to sleep without fear of falling. With any luck, we'll get some real rest tonight, and in actual beds!

There's no gate or wall along the western side of Joseph's Gap, just the huge, ornate bridge spanning the river. The bridge is supposedly made of real wrought-iron, fired and worked without any magical aid. That's not why anyone cares about it, though, just the sort of thing I end up knowing, being around Nim so long. I don't know where he hears this stuff. It's not like we sit around taverns all night picking up gossip.

We step onto the bridge behind a pair of haggard-looking peasants, maneuvering around them as they stop to throw a half-laden coinpurse into the water below, touch their hearts, and continue into the city. I feel myself frown slightly. It turns into a full-on grimace when I see a pair of priests, dressed in spotless white robes, catch sight of us. I realize I've left my pilgrim's cloak open to the day's warmth, and Saving Grace's flawless mithral surface must be dazzling in the sun. My left hand instinctively drifts to my hip, ensuring Honor Bound stays out of sight. A mithral breastplate is only a sign of rank, as long as no one looks too closely. An elaborately-decorated adamantine longsword in a glassteel sheath, however, could lead to questions.

The priests arrive, actually a monk and a cleric, by the way one takes a position just behind the other. We come to a stop as they do and the monk gives a slow nod to Filbert, who has his blindfold on being stoic behind me. The cleric clears his throat and addresses me, shifting slightly to get the glare out of his eyes. I can practically feel Charlize behind me fighting the urge to intervene. I'm the only one looking respectable at the moment and we don’t want to give any reason to remember us.

"Very fine morning t'you, m'Lord! Have you come t'Joseph's Gap on pilgrimage, then?" He speaks with a high, nasal tone, and bobs his head around like an owl, trying to find refuge from the sun's glittering reflection. I keep my body moving, just enough to cause him grief. I hear Nim cough back a snicker behind me.

"Yes, yes," I answer, trying to sound bored and imperious. "It seems that exceptionally many others have had the same idea, not that I blame them, after what happened in Renaldwatch. Still, all the peasantry on the road makes for a far less relaxing journey than I usually prefer. I'll be glad to find an inn they can't afford to stay at!" I laugh; it feels forced, but the cleric and monk chuckle along, so they either didn't notice or don't care. "Now if you will excuse me."

I take half a step forward before I'm interrupted. "These your servants, then, m'Lord?" he asks, looking behind me. "Might I 'ave your family name, for the registry?" The monk produces a parchment scroll and a pen, which he dips into a long, thin inkwell at his belt. "And 'ave you decided on a Sacrifice, m'Lord? Or d'you prefer t'make a donation t'the Church, and we make a Sacrifice in your name?"

"I will make my own Sacrifice, thank you very much, but not until I've gotten cleaned up and had some decent food." I step forward again, brushing the cleric lightly but firmly aside as he tries block my path again. "I am certain that you will still be here when we return. Good day." The others take the cue and follow close behind as I step off the bridge and into Joseph's Gap.

When the crowd has thinned around us, Charlize mutters so only we can hear, "I believe Claaus just handled a social situation, on his own, without resorting to violence or getting us run out of town. Truly, this is the City of Miracles."


Blarghghwrdlhgwrdwldgrwrhldwr. Please please tell me how this comes across. I'm trying to work on Claaus' voice, so naturally I started with a scene where his only speech is in his trying-to-talk-like-a-noble voice. :smallsigh: At least this one's out of the way and we can move on to chapters where things might actually happen! It's looking like the final thing will be 15-16 chapters altogether. We'll see.

@SleepyShadow
Vronti Spathi
I feel like it's inappropriate to have a half-dragon quoting 300, somehow. :smallamused:

Those Damned Ninjas
I LOLed pretty hard seeing these guys come back. And by LOLed, I mean "huehuehuehue morde es #1"

God damnit I didn't even mean to make the LOL pun. :smallannoyed:

White Crow Returns
More vengeance! Really well-executed (in-game and in-snippet)!

Can I just say that I love Herodrith? I'd probably be more annoyed by him at the table, but you write him well enough that he's lovably hatable instead of just the regular type.

Conclusion: these were all fantastic; make more now.

Winds
2012-03-19, 08:25 PM
It's written well. Though, if his pals were that worried, why didn't they speak up? Still, his 'noble voice' sounds pretty natural.

As for the pie golem, it couldn't speak, it's attacks did zero damage, and it rotted away in three days. Also, Kalach doesn't have access to an oven. But it would be fun, in a different kind of game.

Planar Travel: Love it, you're leaving it

So..tired...It's just not fair to go from those long days on the ship to something like this...

The guardian parted ways with us when we made shore. We barely noticed, as we were too absorbed by our surroundings. We are not in Faerun anymore.

The buildings are gigantic. Taller even than the obelisks, even. Made of impossibly pure steel and glass. And there are dozens, maybe hundreds of them.

The most confusing thing was a set of letters etched into the hills beyond the buildings. It didn't seem to spell anything, and I can't imagine what they were for...

After gawking for a time, someone checked the pouch the beasts' fang had been in. There was a compass within.

"Is this pointing north?"

"Who knows? Either way, do you have a better idea?"

"No."

So we walked along the path it pointed for us. Soon enough, we came to a barricade, and were stopped by its guards. All doubt that we had left Faerun left when they introduced themselves. The HPD? What kind of name is that?

I think that they are similar to paladins. Their first thought was whether we were a threat, then whether we needed help. They wouldn't let us past before the next day, however, and we were to help with the defence of the barricade.

Every night, a horde of zombies attacked. There were powerful demons, as well, but they were content to watch. I am not surprised. From what I gather, the only magic in this realm is the noisy wands they use. They are near to panicking.

It's been a long night. I'm just tired, but the others have exausted their supplies of ranged weapons. Irthos is out of arrows, which leaves him all but helpless in combat. They gave him a noise-wand, but he can barely work it.

Of greater concern is that we very obviously don't fit. This place must have been an enormous trading hub, because everything they have is high-quality. We, however, have poorly-mantained and relatively low-quality armor. There's also the fact that none of them have heard of nonhumans. The favored soul is human, so he got off easy. Logrim they seemed okay with. Irthos, though...he's used to people not knowing what a dragonwrought is, but the fact that no one knows what a kobold is is confusing to him. The fact that he's decended from a fand dragon and is covered in spikes doesn't help. They think he's a demon, and only take him on sufferance. They aren't familiar with warlocks, thankfully. Since all I did was smite the zombies with my power, they let it pass. I shudder to think what they would have done had they known how similar my power is to the one that raised them to begin with...

Tomorrow, we will help them gather supplies, with the help of a former prisoner. Except for Irthos, who they don't want to have out of their sight. I feel for him.

Maybe the leviathan isn't the only threat. It's going to be a long day tomorrow.

Surprised? So were we!

Dr Bwaa
2012-03-20, 12:17 AM
That's a good point; it's obvious in my brain but I don't know why I'd expect anyone else to know it. There are a couple reasons why they (Charlize in particular) didn't speak up, but the most prominent is that we're fugitives and dressed as pilgrims, Claaus' failure to remain in disguise notwithstanding. The society is a mageocracy with a very rigid caste system, so there was no way Charlize could have intervened without giving a name, which we can't afford to have checked (everything gets checked with this DM. Every bureaucracy in the world finishes all their paperwork every day, with time and motivation to spare to investigate anything and everything). There are some other reasons but I'll be trying to work them into the story as I go. Anyway, I edited in a bit about that; hopefully it's a clearer now.

@Planar Travel

Oh... Oh my... I do LOVE that you aren't just thrown into the real world, but specifically into a real-world zombie-apocalypse. Good stuff! Also,

I think that they are similar to paladins.
Awesome.

SleepyShadow
2012-03-20, 11:43 AM
@lordhenry: I thought it was quite well written, though I have to say that a bit of back story on the city would have been nice. I'm not sure if it was intentional, but I loved the Irish accent that the priest had.

Also, glad you like Herodrith. He's a good player, but he can be a pain in the neck sometimes.


Conclusion: these were all fantastic; make more now.

You got it! :smallbiggrin:

You Know It's The End of the Campaign When ...
"Why are we in Sigil?" Herodrith sighed.

"To stop Vecna from eradicating the multiverse," Niani replied.

"To get my revenge!" Tamashi growled. "No one steals my divinity and gets away with it!"

"Because this is our third attempt at world saving and it looks bad if we screw up again?" Tom said with a shrug.

"I know .... but why Sigil?" Herodrith grumbled. "I hate Sigil."

"You've never even been to Sigil," Niani reminded him.

"But we met someone from Sigil, and she talked funny."

"I liked Kuri. She was fun."

"I liked her too," Tom said with a wry grin.

"We all know why you liked her," Niani said flatly.

Tamashi sneered irritably at the three adventurers. She hated that she had been forced to work with the mongrels that had been hounding her every step as she guided the Red Hand to greatness. Though she was an elf woman, Tamashi wielded the respect and fear of the hobgoblins, the giants, the kuo-toa, and even the drow elves. Then again, fear and respect were easy to come by when one has been blessed by three deities: Tiamat, Hextor, and Lolth.

Then Vecna had to steal away her divine power to bootstrap himself to full godhood, and now he threatened to ruin everything Tamashi had worked so hard to achieve. The multiverse was hers to unite and command, not his to destroy!

As the four of them walked through the crowded streets of Sigil, a sudden cry of delight caught their attention as a pink-haired tiefling girl came bounding over to them. Niani squeeled with delight and hugged the tiefling's knees.

"Well I'll be a sodding coney-catcher's daughter!" the tiefling said excitedly. "I never did reckon I'd eyeball you canny bloods banging around the Cage! Are you planewalking spivs here to deal with the power that went and slipped through The Lady's net?"

"It's good to see you again, Kuri," Niani said happily.

"I hate Sigil slang ..." Herodrith sighed.

"I agree," Tamashi said in a low voice, wondering if she could kill the tiefling before the adventurers could stop her.

"So where is this, uh, power at?" Tom asked.

"I'll show ya," Kuri offered. "Vecna went and hidey-holed in the Doomguard's armory. There's a lot of graybeards and berks who think they can get inside, but all the ones that do more than rattle their bone-boxes end up in the dead book faster than a wink."

She led them to the armory where a massive crowd had gathered around a large and imposing building. However, they all kept a safe distance away, and there was also a small perimeter of empty space around The Lady of Pain, who graced the area with her presence.

"We got here just in time," Kuri said mischievously. "Another couple of addle-coves gonna try the barrier!"

Elminster and Drzzt, two people known across the multiverse, strode confidently toward the building. Elminster cast every protective spell in his impressive arsenal, and thus warded the two of them strode confidently toward the armory. They made it up to the front doors before the two of them were instantly torn asunder by Vecna's divine will.

Tom collapsed to the floor in a fit of laughter.

Dr Bwaa
2012-03-20, 12:41 PM
Yeah; it's been a struggle trying to decide how and when to give setting exposition. The trouble is, by this point in the campaign the party is around level 15-16 (started at level 1), and the campaign has been going for about 6 years of in-game time, so there's no need for the characters to be talking about that kind of stuff. Was there anything in particular that I didn't give you that you felt you needed to know about the setting for this snippet? Or was it a more general, wish-I-knew-more sort of feel? (If you haven't read the precursors to this story, they do give a bit more background, though admittedly not a whole lot). I'd very much like to know what sorts of things aren't clear while I'm revising the next couple snippets.

And yes, that's what you get when I'm editing things over St. Patty's Day. :smallbiggrin:

@End of Campaign
WELP. TIME TO LEAVE. Although this party apparently all lived through the ToH, so maybe they have above-average-enough survivability to deal with it. I'm also curious how Tamashi ended up having to work with these guys. Good work as usual!


Specific comments:
First off, Herodrith's first line is priceless. Great way to kick this snippet off.


She hated that she had been forced to work with...

This feels a little awkward tense-wise, since she's presumably still being "forced" to work with the party. Nothing in my brain feels particularly smooth as a replacement, but something like "hated having to work with" or "hated that she was forced to work with" might be a little clearer.


"I hate Sigil slang ..." Herodrith sighed.

I love the Sigil slang.


They made it up to the front doors before the two of them were instantly torn asunder by Vecna's divine will.

This feels a little too casual to me, even though that's kind of the point. It's casual on Vecna's end, sure, but (correct me if I'm mistaken) the ease with which he dispatches these two is supposed to be a bit of a shock (to the reader), and that's not coming across here.

SleepyShadow
2012-03-20, 09:59 PM
This feels a little too casual to me, even though that's kind of the point. It's casual on Vecna's end, sure, but (correct me if I'm mistaken) the ease with which he dispatches these two is supposed to be a bit of a shock (to the reader), and that's not coming across here.

I was just presenting it more or less how it was presented in-game. A big reason for the laid-back killing of Drzzt and Elminster is because my players unanimously hate The Big Faerun Fellas. So I threw 'em a bone lol.

Besides, Tom's player really did fall down laughing. :smallbiggrin:

Dr Bwaa
2012-03-21, 02:25 PM
Besides, Tom's player really did fall down laughing. :smallbiggrin:

Oh, I definitely caught that. And I figured that's what was going on as far as the style is concerned, but I think you could still get the casual feeling across without sacrificing the impact to the reader. To get the entertainment across I feel like you just need something to tie it off.


Devils. Not demons.

To be honest, I'm actually kind of relieved to get this clarification. I was a little worried that your campaign had wandered into a mexican-american race war of some kind :smalleek:

Winds
2012-03-21, 07:34 PM
Hmp, details. We're dealing with both.

Besides, it's not my fault I forgot which one balors are...


Day on the town

It's hard to write like this. I hope I can actually read it later...

We were sent as a foraging party today. Elle was sent along with us, in part to act as guide, and because we don't know anything about this metalwork they use in place of magic.

She was apparently a thief of some kind-they released her because they needed all the help they could get to stay alive. She'll certainly help us...if nothing else, it's good to know what these people are talking about.

Our foraging found us a working 'car' first...one of the sleek-looking ones. Elle said it was a mustang. It looks nothing like a horse, but I'll take her word for it. Thankfully, this is the sort of thing she usually steals.

"Just a minute...

...

Ugh. Forget the quiet way, then. Gimme that club for a sec..."

I really hope she can do better than that next time.

She drove it to a gas station. It was explained to me that the machines that ran the place were subservient to one that made power for them. As it was dark inside, it was my job to find it.

I can't imagine how I survived without my darksight. Such a usful thing to have...

When we found it, Elle repaired it...I think? I don't know if it was broken. Afterward, the place filled with light. We grabbed a lot of little metal containers that apparently had food in them. Only...we didn't have a car anymore. Someone had stolen it.

But it left a trail of liquid, so we followed it.

It was put in a building filled with people in black, red-spattered robes.

"So...I think we should NOT get their attention if we can help it."

"Agreed. Let's go for stealth."

That was ruined pretty quick. The entrance we tried was filled with zombies.

Now, it would have been ruined if we'd noticed they were inert. As it was, I think the sounds of gunfire, spellcraft and thwacking garnered attention. It turns out that the cult of Asmodeus likes madmen that can track what's happening on the other side of a door.

These madmen weren't much challenge, however.

So we recovered (and fixed) the mustang, and also found another car the size of a small building. So we took that back to the barricade, along with the food, and the liquid that makes cars go. We also brought back the sacrifice the cultists made. Given that supplies were short already, they may not thank us for bringing back someone who was set on fire, then healed. She isn't likely to be useful to them for a while.

Irthos, however, will be. He chose to remain there, since he didn't feel he could contribute to our quest if he couldn't fight properly.

I find myself hoping he returns to us, but it isn't likely.

So now we are are in the car, with Elle driving in the direction the compass points us.

I actually look forward to reaching the obelisk. They may be dangerous, but at least I know what's happening...

Dr Bwaa
2012-03-22, 11:23 AM
But... Balors are demons...

@Winds
Eheheheheh, is he writing this on a computer?

I really like your descriptions of all the modern-day stuff, especially this line:


It was explained to me that the machines that ran the place were subservient to one that made power for them.

Though it was a little jarring to see 'gas station' just thrown around without the quotes you used on "'car'", since it's surely not a term he's familiar with.

Did Irthos' player leave/swap Irthos out for Elle?

Winds
2012-03-22, 04:40 PM
It was a swap, yes. It's just that Irthos wasn't going to survive without refilling his quiver, which he couldn't do.

Dr Bwaa
2012-03-28, 11:58 AM
Man, you guys write quality stuff a lot faster than I do :smallannoyed:

Here's a random background I wrote up for a character I'm applying to a campaign over on MW, while I'm revising parts two and three of the Joseph's Gap story.


Bedtime Story
or: How to Make a Racist
“Ten generations ago, in eastern Kyuro, there was a thriving city-state. The people there called themselves the Gnomish Gnation, since they were all Gnomes! Gnomes of every shape and size; some like you and me; some bigger; some even smaller than you! They were very friendly, and everybody liked them. Men and Lizardfolk and Halflings came from far and wide to visit the Gnomish Gnation, to trade for their fine crafts and eat their delicious food.

“Your father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father’s father--do you remember what his name was?--he was named Wink, and he lived in the Gnomish Gnation, all those years ago, with his wife Elpa. They were hunters just like us, and they were pretty famous for all the rare and tasty beasts and fish they caught, and visitors rarely left without making sure to eat at least one meal with them.

“Then one day, Wink saw a lot of smoke, far in the distance when he was out hunting. He went to investigate it, and found a whole army of soot-covered Elves marching out of a burning Halfling village and headed for the Gnomish Gnation! Wink ran all the way home to tell everyone what he had seen, but many people refused to believe that the Elves would do such a terrible thing, no matter how Wink tried to persuade them.

“Wink took Elpa (who was pregnant with your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather at the time), as well as a few other families, and went into hiding in a secret place they knew about at the edge of the forest close to the city. They watched as the Elves came to the town and a tiny little Forest Gnome named Glup went out to greet them and ask them about these awful rumors.

“Well, Wink and Elpa couldn’t hear what the Elves said, but they saw the leader draw a long sword and cut Glup’s head right off! Then the Elves took their torches and started burning all the houses, one by one, and when they finally left, they took with them all the Gnomes they hadn’t killed, locked up in a big cage.

“Wink and Elpa and the rest of the Gnomes came out of hiding and went to the city, and when they saw the devastation they cried for three days. Then they made up their minds to go rescue their friends from the evil Elves, and for the next ten years they lived in secret, running from place to place to avoid getting caught, looking for the others in the midst of a terrible war, and taking care of their new baby at the same time.”

“Did they ever find their friends, mama?”

“Yes, but when they finally did learn where they were and broke into the Elf fortress to rescue them, Wink and the other free Gnomes learned that many of the ones who had been taken had died in slavery, and the rest were so hungry and weak they could hardly walk. Only seven of them managed to escape with the other free Gnomes.

“They spent the next year fleeing to the coast, nursing the former slaves back to health along the way. They were followed, of course; the Elves wanted to stamp them out more than ever. In fact, they started just destroying any village they thought Wink, Elba, and the rest could possibly be hiding in, so the Gnomes had to stop going to any towns or seeing any other people.

“Eventually, they made it to the coast, and in the night they snuck onto a Halfling ship that was just leaving for Tressyl. The Halflings were mad at first when they found the stowed-away Gnomes, but Elpa told them all they had been through, and then they understood why they had to sneak on board. They had many great adventures on their journey across the sea--but that’s a story for another night.”


*

It’s been nearly two thousand years since my ancestors were driven from their homeland, fleeing with the rest of the innocent before a nation of soulless murderers. I find it amazing how little has changed. We like to consider ourselves civilized in this age, or at least I do.

Everyone’s heard the rumors of whole towns being put to the torch recently for “rebel activity.” I’m certain that sheltering the rebels’ leader is offense enough to “justify” such an act. My essential belongings are already packed, my bow and grandfather’s armor by the door. I only wonder if the people of Kyrius will respond better than the citizens of the Gnome Gnation did, all those years ago. I know I will.

Winds
2012-03-28, 01:57 PM
Interesting...sounds like that family has quite the grudge to bear.

As for the amount of work...I'm trying to become a novelist, so I can pass this off as training. Totally. Plus, I *have* to type fast. Even with two snippets now and skipping most of the fights, I'm running behind!

Morons and Mine-shafts

So we finally reached the next destination.

It takes a long time to get places, but cars are much better than walking. Not as good as teleporting, though. At least the trips are uneventful. That's lucky, because there are zombies almost everywhere.

In any case, after several days traveling in the desert, we have reached another city.

The obelisk here is not white as the others were, but a marbled black-red. A...wonderful thing to see.

Elle found where the cars are stored. Since our horse will show signs of use (and can but used by anyone, thanks to her breaking it open), we moved our suppliers to a large, square one. Elle unlocked properly this time, so it should escape notice.

We then went in search of this tower's guardian. Thankfully, it was a simple task. It's a dwarf, which I'm sure Logrim is glad to see. Or was. He was wearing heavy armor and carried a large warhammer.

Unfortunately, he was very drunk. Nothing he said made any sense, and he didn't seem to know where he was. This didn't stop him from making trouble for us.

When we tried to get him to make sense, he made reference to someone that 'should have stayed in their hole'. He kept going...until finally seeming to address Logrim.

“You need to STAY in your HOLE!”

With that, he smashed the floor with the hammer, making a deep hole in the ground, which he told Logrim to stay in.

A hole so deep we couldn't see the bottom, and the idiot jumped into on orders of a drunk who didn't know who he was. I just...I can't believe this. On top of everything else, this just...

Oh, good. And now it's raining.





Logrim had to shed his armor so he would float. There isn't anything we can do for him, so we're setting up to rest.

Several in-character days later...


Into hell itself! This cannot fail.

Well, the drunk guardian got sober. And Logrim managed to stay afloat until morning.

The guardian is called Dakmar. He failed to keep the devils from taking the obelisk, and has been drunk ever since. He says the inside will have become an offshoot of the Nine Hells.

I knew that I would go there...the terms of the pact say that

Dakmar agreed to open the door for us, if we drank his...concoction...

We have been insensibly drunk since. That was nearly a week ago. Incidentally, the...substance...also serves as fuel. I woke up wearing some of Elle's clothes. I do NOT want to know. Nor does she.

Both a horrific hangover and smacked across the face until her hand hurt. For something I'm pretty sure I didn't do.

This just...I just...ugh.

In any case, we found some more clothing for Elle.


The obelisk had, in place of the usual moral tests, an opening into one of the Nine Hells. It was burning hot within, at first. Cold, later.

The only thing of particular note was that we encountered two teiflings chained to a wall. One was dead...the one barely living. Kaldrig says his power told him she wasn't evil.

She came to well after we got clear of the obelisk. Her name is Neeshka, and she will travel with us for the time being.

She can perceive the touch of other planes, due to her heritage. She knew Kaldrig was blessed, and that I am cursed.

I am glad we're done with the Hells for now. We'll be back...

We now are heading somewhere new. Because of Neeshka joining us, we took the larger vehicle. Elle is not pleased. She liked that mustang.

TheCountAlucard
2012-04-09, 11:19 PM
The Arczeckhi BarbariansShen and Tiger Palm approached Nechara, an ominous feeling hanging over their heads. It was strange that the pair had seen no travelers on the road to Nechara; as the cart trundled forward, Shen grimly observed that he couldn't even hear the sounds of any local wildlife.

Shen's journey with the old merchant had begun over a month ago. He had heard tell of a Fair Folk noble who wished to negotiate trade; while Shen had never personally dealt with the chaotic outsiders, he was willing to give this one the benefit of the doubt. Tiger Palm, a grizzled Guild merchant, was willing to go along with Shen, and so far, their trip had been uneventful.

Now, however, both travelers were quite uneasy, and the dread hammered its way home when the trade hub was finally within sight. Nechara was in ruins, not a single person to be seen. Shen looked to Tiger Palm, shocked, and then slipped quietly off the cart, one hand at his belt, ready to seize a throwing knife at a moment's notice. His companion followed suit, drawing a short sword.

The town was empty, and as the two explored, they caught sight of the river at the edge of Nechara. The river had been made into a hazard; any ship that tried to go downstream would be rendered a wreck by the rugged rocks that now filled its bed. Suddenly hearing movement, Shen gestured to Tiger Palm just in time; the two looked to the rooftops to see ten beings gathered there.

Coarse red fur covered their bodies, and tipped their long, pointed ears. The barbarians looked down at them with red eyes, their fanged mouths twisted into hostile sneers, gesturing violently with their spears. Tiger Palm's response was a single word, his face blanched with fear.

"Arczeckhi!"

Shen knew a little of the Arczeckhi - these Wyld barbarians had attacked numerous settlements in the past, but their numbers had been reduced to insignificance hundreds of years ago! What he knew of them, though, was not reassuring; the Arczeckhi only deemed one a person if he could kill one of their number (even their own children were not spared in this regard).

As the largest of their number stepped forward, Shen drew his knife and asked, "Where are the villagers?"

The leader chuckled and rumbled, "They have become food for the Dragon... as will you!"

He gestured for three of his minions to attack, but the prince reacted first; as they dove down to attack, Shen jumped up, nimbly weaving past their spears to deliver a full-bodied kick to the throat of one barbarian. Tiger Palm moved to engage one as Shen handled the others, moving in close to negate the reach of their spears. Pouring Essence into his graceful evasion, Shen's caste mark began to gently shine.

As they fought, the leader gestured to the other barbarians, who drew their bows. Shen continued to nimbly dodge the attacks of his opponents, delivering quick jabs to stun them, and shouted up to the leader, "Call off your attack!"

The Arczeckhi leader laughed. "How can I take you seriously when you won't even kill your enemies?" One of the barbarians' spears suddenly scored a blow against Shen, leaving him bleeding; the wound was not deep, due to the enchanted silk Shen wore.

The prince angrily cried out, "You want death, barbarian? I shall give it to you!" He hurled his throwing knife, and it buried itself to the hilt in the chief's eye socket. Before Shen could say another word, though, the Arczeckhi reacted, springing upon their fallen comrade and tearing at his flesh with their teeth; even the ones on the ground had suddenly turned feral, leaping at the unconcious barbarian at Shen's feet. Shen looked to Tiger Palm, confused, and together, the two ran.

Dr Bwaa
2012-04-10, 11:35 AM
First: comments! Because you jerks are all writing awesome stuff while I struggle and fail to get my own character's voice right.

@Winds
Good goal! Plus, now that I know that, I get to be extra nitpicky about critiquing your stuff, because now I'm "helping"!

M&M

A...wonderful thing to see.

I'm not sure what you're doing here. Is this sarcastic or genuine? (I suspect the former, but it's not very clear)


Since our horse will show signs of use (and can but used by anyone

Just a couple typos in here (I'm assuming "house", since breaking open a horse sounds... messy).

Oh, Dwarves. The end of this made me :smalleek: Though, it kind of comes off like the party's abandoning Logrim, with the whole "well, we can't help him so I guess it's bedtime" thing. Something to clarify that they're presumably keeping watch over his hole and floating status would make this a bit clearer.

Into Hell Itself

I knew that I would go there...the terms of the pact say that

Is there supposed to be more to this paragraph?


In any case, we found some more clothing for Elle.

... This suggests to me that Kalach is continuing to wear Elle's clothes, and I cannot stop laughing. Also, damn that's some good beer. (though this line: "the...substance...also serves as fuel." confused me--do you mean literally fuel, like for cars, or just that it burns well, or that it also provides sustainance?)


We now are heading somewhere new.

This seems a little unneeded. It feels assumed that you're keeping on the move, so unless you give more detail about where you're going next, this line doesn't give the reader anything new to work with.

I like the teasers in this chapter (Kaldrig's blessedness, Kalach's cursedness (though I think that's been mentioned before, it's nice to have these reminders that there's something going on there), Kalach's certainty that they'll be going back to Hell at some point... very nice.

Overall I enjoyed these chapters; only a couple typos/clarifications that were a little jarring. Otherwise, great work as usual!


@TCA

he was willing to give this one the benefit of the doubt.

Why? Is there something special about this one, or is he just generally willing to give people a chance?


the Arczeckhi only treated deemed one a person

I'm assuming "treated" is an extra word here.


even their own children were not spared in this regard

I can see how their numbers would have been drastically reduced! :smalleek: How are there any left at all?!


his silk garment was enchanted to turn away blows like steel armor

A couple things about this. First, this sentence doesn't really flow with the rest of the fight; I think it could be reworked to mesh better or even taken out entirely. Also a nitpick: the part I quoted above is a garden-path sentence. It sounds as though "steel armor" is supposed to be an example of the kinds of blows it's enchanted to turn away, until you get to the end and realize that interpretation doesn't make sense.


the Arczeckhi reacted, springing upon their fallen comrade and tearing at his flesh with their teeth

Uh... oh my. I wasn't expecting that. Again I have to ask, how does this culture still exist???

This was a fun read; you do a very good job setting the scene and the fight is just as quick and brutal as it should be. I'd like to see more of these guys!


And now: guh! This one took longer than I wanted (yeah, yeah, what else is new?), but it's done. For the moment, anyway. Comments/critique much appreciated.


Shopping
Or: This is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things
As soon as the crowd thins enough for us not to be overheard, Filbert murmurs, "Nim has an Artifact in the river, right under the center of the bridge. It is fortunate that we were delayed there, or I might have missed it."

"Why are they always so public?" I growl. "Or underwater? Or both? Anywhere else in the city would be better."

"Well," Filbert replies with a placid smirk, "There's one of mine at the very top of the Cathedral." He nods to the massive spire rising abruptly from the center of Joseph's Gap. "Inside, not strapped to the outside or anything. It moves around occasionally."

I shade my eyes and squint to look at it and realize there's no way the Hand's personal chambers aren't right at the top. "Okay, I take it back. That's worse."

Filbert opens his mouth to respond, but Nim cuts him off, grabbing Namia’s hand and tugging her back in the direction of the river. "We'll get that one later. I'm gonna go find mine! Come on, Namia, I might need water breathing or something!"

Charlize’s eyes narrow and her lips press into a thin line. "Nim, it is the middle of the day and there is particularly heavy traffic over that bridge, now that we've panicked the populace so much in the last couple weeks. We can search the river tonight, when we won't be in plain view of anyone with eyes."

Charlize's argument, like anyone's, has no effect on Nim at all. "No, don't worry about it; there's lots of scrub down there; no one will be able to see a thing. Besides, it's me!" He grins. "Meet us by the south bank when you're done with all the boring stuff!" He finally succeeds in dislodging Namia and runs off with her, skirting the crowds of brown-robed pilgrims and disappearing around an unsturdy-looking shed. With a sigh, I turn to Filbert, then meet Charlize’s eyes that are not hers--clearest green rather than sparkling, all-too-recognizable silver. "Well, let's get the boring stuff done fast, I guess."


*

We find an inn with available rooms in a less crowded part of town, not particularly close to the Cathedral or market, and get keys to a pair of rooms side-by-side. After ensuring the doors lock, Filbert dons his blindfold and we leave the Rusty Ram for the market.

Once there, Filbert and I make for a gentleman's formalwear boutique while Charlize heads in the direction of a dress shop we certainly can't afford anything at. I make a point of leaving Filbert in the square--inappropriate to bring my “servant” into a boutique like this. As I make small talk with the doorman, I catch sight of Charlize disappearing into an alley. Moments later, a stunning blonde in a bright red dress with a dragon motif emerges from the same spot. My heart stutters for an instant before I realize what she’s done, and I smirk to myself and follow the doorman into the shop.


*

I step back into the street, blinking in the sudden sunlight and scowling at having spent almost a quarter of our wealth on one untailored suit for Nim. Then I sigh, tuck the bundle of soft, slippery green cloth under one arm, and hurry to the center of the square, where a crowd has gathered to watch a young paladin raging at an insolent blind monk.

Pushing a couple civilians roughly aside, I interrupt the red-faced paladin before he draws steel on Filbert. "What is the meaning of this?" I demand as indignantly as possible. "This man is my servant; why have you accosted him in the middle of town?"

"This man," spits the paladin, "has the foulest tongue of any dog in Bloodport! He was shouting the most obscene vulgarities you've ever dreamed at an upstanding young Lady who happened to be passing by. I will not have such impiety in my city, especially from one who claims to be a man of the cloth! He must--"

"He is my servant," I break in over the furious man's tirade, "and I will see to it that he behaves." The paladin is panting and shaking with the effort of restraining himself, and I turn slowly from him to Filbert. "Now, tell me. Are this man's accusations true?" Obviously the soldier had just decided to exert some authority over someone he perceived as helpless. Filbert's not the person out of line here.

"Yes, it's true." Filbert says it so matter-of-factly I hardly even notice, until the paladin loses control of his anger again.

"There, you see! He admits it! What a base, lecherous--"

"Yes, clearly," I snap, a little quicker than I intended. "Well, then. Arms out; take what you've earned."

Filbert complies, pulling his sleeves back to reveal arms as heavily tattooed as they are muscled. He sighs and makes an inscrutable face. I cannot believe he is treating this so lightly.

In a flash, I pull Honor Bound from its sheath beneath my cloak, bringing it down in two curved strokes across Filbert's upper arms and sheathing it again just as quickly. The magic of the blade prevents it from doing any serious harm, but the long slashes draw blood, hopefully enough to satisfy the overzealous prosecutor.

Filbert's acting skills are just as terrible as ever, though, or his training is too deeply-learned. He doesn't even flinch as the cuts open on his arms, and the paladin notices. "His arms are too scarred already! He can't even feel them! Here," he says, "use this." My stomach turns as a wicked grin crawls over his face and he swings his pack off his shoulder and pulls it open, offering it expectantly toward me, waiting for me to look inside.

His smile broadens as I peer into the bag and see a thick club of solid iron occupying most of the space within, along with several pairs of manacles. Holding back a resigned sigh, I reach in and draw the cudgel out. Turning to Filbert with the heavy weapon, cold through my glove, I keep the apology out of my voice and pray he'll fall as I step into the swing. "You brought this on yourself."

The metal hits his stomach with a wet sound and Filbert buckles over it, landing in a heap in the dirt. I hand the club back to the paladin, who could win a commendation for how smug he looks. I toss the expensive green fabric balled in my left fist at Filbert and turn away. "Get up and bring those! We're done here."

TheCountAlucard
2012-04-10, 11:50 AM
Why? Is there something special about this one, or is he just generally willing to give people a chance?The latter.


I'm assuming "treated" is an extra word here.Whoops! :smallredface:


I can see how their numbers would have been drastically reduced! :smalleek: How are there any left at all?!That's a mystery Shen hasn't figured out yet. :smalltongue:


A couple things about this. First, this sentence doesn't really flow with the rest of the fight; I think it could be reworked to mesh better or even taken out entirely. Also a nitpick: the part I quoted above is a garden-path sentence. It sounds as though "steel armor" is supposed to be an example of the kinds of blows it's enchanted to turn away, until you get to the end and realize that interpretation doesn't make sense.Spruced it up a bit. See if you can make heads or tails of it now. :smalltongue:


Uh... oh my. I wasn't expecting that. Again I have to ask, how does this culture still exist???If Shen finds out, I'll be sure and post it. :smallamused:


This was a fun read; you do a very good job setting the scene and the fight is just as quick and brutal as it should be. I'd like to see more of these guys!Thanks! :smallbiggrin:

Also, I was amused by your story, especially toward the end. :smallamused:

Winds
2012-04-10, 01:03 PM
Good goal! Plus, now that I know that, I get to be extra nitpicky about critiquing your stuff, because now I'm "helping"!

Oh. Well, NOW I've done it. :smallbiggrin:



I'm not sure what you're doing here. Is this sarcastic or genuine? (I suspect the former, but it's not very clear)

Sarcasm. It's a sign that the devils own it.



Just a couple typos in here (I'm assuming "house", since breaking open a horse sounds... messy).

Another joke based on the car. (A Ford Mustang.)


Oh, Dwarves. The end of this made me :smalleek: Though, it kind of comes off like the party's abandoning Logrim, with the whole "well, we can't help him so I guess it's bedtime" thing. Something to clarify that they're presumably keeping watch over his hole and floating status would make this a bit clearer.

Perhaps so. Still, it had been a long day and they did have a watch like most sane adventurers.



Is there supposed to be more to this paragraph?

Nope. Kalach is having problems.



... This suggests to me that Kalach is continuing to wear Elle's clothes, and I cannot stop laughing.

He woke up with them on. Afterward, he got back into his armor.


Also, damn that's some good beer. (though this line: "the...substance...also serves as fuel." confused me--do you mean literally fuel, like for cars, or just that it burns well, or that it also provides sustainance?)

That 'beer' is a black substance with gel-like viscosity. This version of Dakmar drives a truck, and that's the fuel he uses. Yeah, drinking the stuff imposes a Fort save in the low 50s.


This seems a little unneeded. It feels assumed that you're keeping on the move, so unless you give more detail about where you're going next, this line doesn't give the reader anything new to work with.

Fair enough.


I like the teasers in this chapter (Kaldrig's blessedness, Kalach's cursedness (though I think that's been mentioned before, it's nice to have these reminders that there's something going on there), Kalach's certainty that they'll be going back to Hell at some point... very nice.

Overall I enjoyed these chapters; only a couple typos/clarifications that were a little jarring. Otherwise, great work as usual!

Thanks!

SleepyShadow
2012-04-10, 01:22 PM
Shopping
Or: This is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

I thought it was quite well-written, and I'm curious about the green-eyed shapeshifter. Tell me more! :smallbiggrin: Also: Poor Filbert.


This snippet is from the new campaign I'm running with the same group of players. I had hoped to be a player rather than the DM again, but alas it was not to be.

The Mists Slip Up (or Why Goofballs Should Not Be Allowed Into Ravenloft)
Clarice leaned on her greatsword, exhausted. Her breathing was shallow and ragged, her body ached from the dozens of wounds she had suffered, and her hands were growing numb from the repeated blows she had struck. Icy rain beat down her, soaking through her red leathers and chilling her to the bone. Clarice swept a lock of her silvery-blonde hair out of her eyes, but the cold down poor soon brought it back to her face. She heard the telltale moaning of more foes on the approach, and she squinted through the thick fog to see where they were coming from.

Lost souls, Barovian dead, zombies. They had begun converging on the last location of the living in Barovia Village. Clarice looked behind her at the library, and for a moment considered taking shelter inside with the few remaining villagers, but she knew that the dozen zombies shuffling toward her would break down the door in a matter of moments. The young woman raised her greatsword and gave the undead a defiant glare.

"So much death," she sighed as she entered her preferred battle stance, prepared to defend the villagers to the bitter end.

Suddenly, she spied a trio walking toward her through the mists. Not shambling, not shuffling, but walking. Clarice felt her spirits rise immediately. They were alive!

"Over here!" she called out to them. "I am in desperate need of your aid!"

One of the figures blurred into motion, skewering one of the zombies with a spear just as the undead began to converge on Clarice.

"Do not worry pretty lady, we help you good," he said with an overly friendly smile.

A shock wave of piercing sound ripped through the zombies, sending bits of meat and bone flying in all directions. A moment later, hundreds of mangy tabby cats came pouring down the street and into the midst of the undead, clawing and biting wildly at them. Seeing her chance to strike, Clarice leaped into action.

"Desert Wind style," she cried out as she lunged forward. "Hatchling's Flame!"

Clarice slammed her blade into the ground, and a cone of flame spewed from the point of impact and into the ranks of the zombies. The undead were quickly consumed by the flames, as were the cats.

The other two figures emerged from the mist at this time, and while one was a normal looking human man, likely a priest judging by his robes, the other was quite definitely the fattest and furriest cat Clarice had ever seen.

"That was really neat pretty lady," the man with the spear said. "Are you a magician?"

"Doubtful," replied the priest before Clarice could answer. "It looked more like that weeaboo fightan magic to me."

"You killed my minions," the cat growled.

"The cat talks?" Clarice gasped.

"He is not a talking kitty," the spear-warrior said, "for he is a tibbet, and tibbets are kitty people, right Fluffy?"

"Silence, Ed!" the cat snapped. "I have renounced my inferior form and have risen above my original species."

"Er, well, thank you for helping me," Clarice said, bowing slightly. "I don't think I would have been able to fend off another attack in my current condition. My name is Clarice."

"Well hello Clarice," the priest replied with an evil smile as he drew uncomfortably close to her.

"Shane, it is not a nice thing to scare pretty ladies," Ed said sternly. "Unless the pretty lady is bad. Or a chicken."

"I assure you, Ed, it takes more than a lecherous priest to frighten me," Clarice replied, pushing Shane away.

"If you aren't scared, you should be," Fluffy growled as menacingly as he could.

"You threaten to attack me?" Clarice asked, tightening her grip on her sword.

"I can cast Summon Swarm seven more times today. You will tell us everything you know about what's going on, or I will let my minions eat you. Slowly. While Shane keeps you alive as long as possible with Cure spells."

Clarice suddenly found herself surrounded by hundreds of mangy tabby cats, all of them staring hungrily at her. Her dark blue eyes flickered first to Ed, then to Shane. Both merely watched her in anticipation.

What have I done to deserve such a fate? she wondered.

TheCountAlucard
2012-04-10, 01:26 PM
With regard to your story, SleepyShadow, that is exactly why I talk to the players before I start a game. :smalltongue:

SleepyShadow
2012-04-10, 01:52 PM
With regard to your story, SleepyShadow, that is exactly why I talk to the players before I start a game. :smalltongue:

I told them we were playing Ravenloft before character generation. I wanted Silent Hill, they wanted Devil May Cry.

It's going to make me cry :smallsigh:

Dr Bwaa
2012-04-10, 02:38 PM
@TCA:
Yeah, that reads a little more nicely now. Anything in particular you enjoyed/didn't enjoy about Shopping? Anything I can improve on while I'm editing part 3?

@Winds:

Another joke based on the car. (A Ford Mustang.)

D'oh. I did figure this one out (and love it), but apparently forgot to remove it from my comments. You do still have the other one in there though, which I'm pretty sure is a typo:

and can but used by anyone


That 'beer' is a black substance with gel-like viscosity. This version of Dakmar drives a truck, and that's the fuel he uses. Yeah, drinking the stuff imposes a Fort save in the low 50s.

So... yes to all of the above, then. Nice. :smallbiggrin:

@SS:
He really did bring it on himself. Really, who pretends to be a blind monk in the middle of the marketplace and then starts catcalling other (Noble, or at least Noble-looking) party members in front of the guards? :smalltongue: (It was an Alter Self'd Charlize he was harassing, and his character knew that, but I didn't feel like that information was really important enough to try to shoehorn into the narrative.) Glad you liked it! A friend is beta-ing part three, so hopefully only one more round of edits before it's postable.

@SleepyShadow

the cold down poor

Unless you are referring to shivering peasants made of feathers, this should be "downpour". :smallbiggrin:

This... I laughed at the end, but only because it is so perfectly you and your players. Clarice is beautifully real and the setup at the beginning is wonderful, and then the PCs arrive and the strangeness/discomfort levels increase relentlessly. I've said it before (frequently) and I suspect I'll say it again: I would not want to be one of your NPCs.

PS. I just about lost it at "weeaboo fightan magic".

TheCountAlucard
2012-04-10, 04:01 PM
Anything in particular you enjoyed/didn't enjoy about Shopping?I was confused at the beginning, but that's my own damn fault for not reading your prior snippets. :smalltongue:


Anything I can improve on while I'm editing part 3?Not sure; it looks pretty good to me.

On that note, I'll probably have another Shen-centric snippet for you guys before too much longer; the ST wants to run another one-on-one session soon.

SleepyShadow
2012-04-10, 05:32 PM
Unless you are referring to shivering peasants made of feathers, this should be "downpour". :smallbiggrin:

This is what I get for trying to write before morning coffee :smallbiggrin:


This... I laughed at the end, but only because it is so perfectly you and your players. Clarice is beautifully real and the setup at the beginning is wonderful, and then the PCs arrive and the strangeness/discomfort levels increase relentlessly. I've said it before (frequently) and I suspect I'll say it again: I would not want to be one of your NPCs.

PS. I just about lost it at "weeaboo fightan magic".

Glad you liked it. I should have another snippet up shortly, and I doubt things will improve for poor Clarice.

SleepyShadow
2012-04-11, 11:58 AM
As promised, another snippet from the current campaign.

"Murder is the Only Option"
"So we are trying to find the Sunsword but we do not know where it is?" Ed asked, puzzled.

"If we can gain audience with Madame Eva, I'm certain she can tell us its location," Clarice answered for the third time.

"Once the girl is armed with the Sunsword we will set out for Castle Ravenloft and destroy the vampire lord within," Fluffy cackled.

"Wait, we're giving the sword to cutie here?" Shane asked in surprise.

"Ooh, is it because she is the best warrior in the party?" Ed asked excitedly.

"Of course not!" Fluffy snapped irritably. "She's the only one with Martial Weapon Proficiency."

Clarice sighed. These outlanders behaved so strangely. She was beginning to worry how well the meeting with the Vistani would go. The bronze-skinned woman balled her fists, vowing to do whatever it took to enlist the aid of the gypsies. This latest atrocity wrought on Barovia Village was too much for her to stand. She had to bring light to the shadowy Strahd Von Zarovich and make him pay for his crimes.

The Vistani caravan was camped near the edge of Tser Lake, a place that Clarice remembered as being a beautiful and charming place. However, the blackened skies and the relentless icy rain caused the lake to appear dark and sullen.

Though she had never met any Vistani before, they were exactly what Clarice had always imagined them to be: vibrant, colorful people so full of life and emotion. They were a stark contrast to the downtrodden villagers of Barovia.

"Remember, be on your best behavior," Clarice said to the outlanders. "We don't want to offend them."

"Vistani!" Fluffy cried out as he sprang atop one of the caravan wagons. "Take me to your leader!"

"Where's this Eva woman, eh?" Shane asked gruffly as he grabbed a nearby Vistani girl by the shoulders and tried to intimidate her.

Clarice hid her face with her hands in shame. This was off to a great start.


***

"Thank you for seeing us, Madame Eva," Clarice said as the group sat down at a table with her. "I'm very sorry for my companions."

"We would have been fine if Ed would have put ranks in Diplomacy and Bluff," Fluffy grumbled irritably.

"I do not have many skill points for things like that," Ed said apologetically. "I dump-ed-ed my Intelligence."

"I can tell," Madame Eva said flatly. "You may each ask one question, and I will answer to the best of my abilities. Be warned, the spirits are not always direct in their dealings with us. The answers you receive may be vague or seem strange for now."

"Ooh, can I ask about the average yearly gross income of Barovian chicken farmers compared to their net income of the same time frame?" Ed asked excitedly.

"Yes, you may."

"So what is it?"

"I'm sorry, you've already used your question."

Shane smacked Ed in the back of the head. While the priest discussed with Fluffy what their questions would be, Clarice silently prayed that one of them would ask about the location of the Sunsword. She knew it was selfish of her, but she wanted to ask about her past. With bronze skin and almost-white hair Clarice knew that she was not a native of Barovia, though she could not remember anything before being taken into the care of the Kolyan family in Barovia Village. She hoped that Eva would be able to at least give her a clue as to where she came from. Her train of thought was interrupted when Fluffy spoke to Eva.

"Do you have any magic items small enough for me to use?" the cat asked.

"Yes," Eva replied. "You boys certainly are fond of simple questions."

"You can't give us your mystic gypsy crap if we ask yes or no questions."

"Does Strahd have the normal weaknesses of a vampire?" Shane asked.

"No," Eva answered, looking slightly bored.

The three adventurers all turned their gaze to Clarice, and her heart sank. It seemed she would never learn more about herself. With a heavy sigh, she looked down at the table.

"What is the location of the Sunblade?" she asked quietly, her face hidden by her bangs.

A swirling yellow aura surrounded Madame Eva as she began to chant eldritch incantations, the light from the candles on the table growing strangely dim.

"I hate diviners," Fluffy grumbled.


***

A sudden scream from across the camp got Clarice's attention away from the card game a few of the Vistani women had been trying to teach her. She snatched up her sword and raced to the source of the disturbance, only to find the three outlanders standing over the body of one of the Vistani men as hundreds of mangy tabby cats began to devour him.

"You killed him??" Clarice gasped, appalled.

"He was charging double book price for his stuff," Fluffy replied nonchalantly.

"Yep, he was a swindler," Shane said with a nod of agreement.

"He was a bad man," Ed agreed.

"So you killed him?" Clarice asked, taking a horrified step back from the grisly scene.

"Murder is the only option," Fluffy said darkly. "He tried to cheat us, so I sent him to his ... kitty doom."

It was then that Clarice realized that a rather large group of angry and well-armed Vistani had them surrounded. She looked down at the body, up at the three adventurers, then back to the angry mob.

"I only met them yesterday! I don't know them! I'm sorry!" Clarice cried out.

"Like I said," Fluffy muttered. "Murder is the only option."

TheCountAlucard
2012-04-11, 09:00 PM
Wow, just wow. :smalltongue:

I'm so glad my group isn't that kill-happy.

Initially I'd misread it, and thought that they'd killed the diviner. :smalleek:

SleepyShadow
2012-04-13, 03:37 PM
Wow, just wow. :smalltongue:

I'm so glad my group isn't that kill-happy.

You think this is bad? I consider it a good session when they don't try to kill each other.:smallsigh:


Initially I'd misread it, and thought that they'd killed the diviner. :smalleek:

Nah, my players are too good at sniffing out NPCs that are higher level than them to try and pick a fight with Madame Eva.

Winds
2012-04-17, 09:12 PM
Kalach's (mis)adventures continue.

The tower in the woods (is gone)
It's almost routine, now. Find tower, find guardian, break tower. Repeat.

The others don't know how worried I am about the pact. I don't know what I'm going to do...

In any case, we found the tower without difficulty thanks to the compass. It lies in a town surrounded by a forest.

Here I thought all their cities were metal. Maybe this world does have some subtlety to it. Or maybe they just ran out of iron.

There was one major problem, however. We met a half-orc named Kronc. there...he seemly friendly enough, and in fact was apparently a friend of the guardian.

Who is dead.

What happened next, though, defies belief. When we spoke of our need to enter the tower, he opened it...or rather, he lifted it free of the foundation. We can enter, in any case.

As can all the zombies in the woods. However, Kronc has been fighting them. For how long, well, who knows? But he showed no signs of slowing down.

First, the usual TITHE 'puzzle'. I didn't think people fell for that...ever...but Neeshka did. I'm SO glad she came with us.

Of all people, Elle stopped her. Really, when a thief is telling you not to steal, it should say something. As for the tithe bowl, that caused even more trouble, from both her and Elle.

Not sure why it mattered to them. Neither of them has any form of money, and I only still carry mine to get past these. I mean, this world doesn't even seem to use gold.

There were only two doors this time. The one we opened was a portal, as usual. Neehska opened the other...which had an armory behind it. The wizards had an armory. Well, I found better armor and a morningstar, so it suits me.

The other side of the portal was a desert. Right in front of something Elle said was a tank. The person controlling it has many like it. And he seems to like having armies. He has conscripted us. So now we're in the tank, and we're to serve as the first assault.

No, we don't have a choice. If we don't, he'll shoot us.

As if we didn't have enough problems on our hands.

Dr Bwaa
2012-04-18, 09:58 AM
I originally intended to put up comments with part 3, but I'm still not satisfied with it, so here are some comments all by themselves instead.

@SleepyShadow

as he grabbed a nearby Vistani girl by the shoulders and tried to intimidate her.

This seems like needless exposition of the game mechanism. He's grabbed some random girl and growling into her face; it's pretty clear that he's going for intimidation without being reminded explicitly that a skill check was required.

Clarice facepalming at her companions' "best behavior" is perfect. http://i1208.photobucket.com/albums/cc366/PlagueEleven/Smileys/MS%20Paint%20Adventures/facepalm.gif

Mme Eva is great. She just exudes distain. And poor Clarice.

The last part is... well it's exactly what I've come to expect from your PCs (and that's a great quote). You executed it well; their casual demeanor contrasts really well with Clarice's outrage. I'm glad she's quick to renounce any association she has with them. Also, the last line pretty much forced me to make this:
http://img252.imageshack.us/img252/31/murdercat.jpg


Nah, my players are too good at sniffing out NPCs that are higher level than them to try and pick a fight with Madame Eva.

I don't know; looks to me like they might get a fight with her after all.


@Winds
I love the juxtaposition of "yay, new armor and morningstar!" with "now we operate a tank!" I'd like to see more description of the tank itself, though maybe Kalach is so jaded by this point that he doesn't even care. I was a little confused as to what was going on in (under?) the tower, with the two doors and so on. Is there just always a door with a portal at the end of each tower? I didn't realize that had continued to be a thing that was happening.


when a thief is telling you not to steal, it should say something.

Yes, yes it should. Kalach's thinly-veiled disgust for his party/situation is great here.

SleepyShadow
2012-04-18, 01:25 PM
This seems like needless exposition of the game mechanism. He's grabbed some random girl and growling into her face; it's pretty clear that he's going for intimidation without being reminded explicitly that a skill check was required.

I suppose it was a bit more of an in-joke than I intended. When my players do skill checks, I'll usually ask what/how they do it, but in this case he could never think of how to intimidate her. Eventually it was decided that Captain Kirk Shane was just scary.

By the way, awesome cat, but I think this may fit better:
https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Hip7AECRAFI/T47nH36df_I/AAAAAAAAAI8/qBx_S26XsVE/s316/fluffy%2520cat.jpg

@Winds: I like the line about the thief as well. I also like that they have apparently been conscripted as cannon fodder, though I am a little confused why. Maybe I just need to go back and reread your previous snippets.


Well I suppose I should write the next piece of the "epoch" of Ravenloft ...

The Great Rescue Gone Awry (or "Buffalo Bill?")
Clarice huddled at the base of a dead tree, shivering in the icy rain. The gibbous moon overhead illuminated the small clearing where she and the three outlanders had decided to make camp after escaping from the angry Vistani. Of course, camp was a relative term. The three of them had done nothing but argue about whose fault it was for not having tents, not being able to start a fire in the rain, and not preparing any spells to create food with.

There was a small upside to being stuck with the adventurers, however. At least the three of them still seemed interested in helping her acquire the Sunsword. Madame Eva had told them that the blade was sequestered away somewhere inside Lysaga Hill. Still, Clarice had to question the motives of these three strangers. Fluffy, Shane, and Ed did not seem like the sort of people to help others without some kind of reward.


***

"There it is," Clarice informed them the following afternoon. "Lysaga Hill."

"Somewhere in this hill is the sword, right?" Shane asked.

"Yes," Fluffy replied, "and once we use it to destroy Strahd Von Zarovich, all of Barovia will bow to my kitty will!"

"I cannot accept the idea of another dictator ruling Barovia," Clarice said firmly. "This land has been oppressed for far too long."

"Like you can stop me. I'm two tiers higher than you!"

"It is not nice to be mean to the pretty lady," Ed said reproachfully.

"Come on crew, let's be off," Shane commanded as he marched up the hill.

As the group got halfway up the hill, a massive spectral creature comprised of hundreds of ghostly screaming faces rose up from the ground before them. It howled menacingly, challenging the adventurers to continue up the hill.

"Evil spirit begone!" Shane bellowed as he held up his holy symbol.

The spectral beast did not even flinch. Clarice rushed forward, taking a downward strike at the creature, but she gasped in surprise when her sword passed harmlessly through it.

"How hard do you think this boss will be?" Shane asked quizzically. "Paper Mario, Final Fantasy, Devil May Cry ..."

With a single pulse of energy from the creature's form, Ed collapsed to the ground at their feet.

"Diablo," Fluffy said in a panic.

Clarice struck at the creature again, and she could not suppress a smile when the creature howled in pain as her blade caught firm for a moment in its spectral body. The creature turned the furious gazes of it thousand eyes upon her, and she felt a momentary sharp pain in her head before her world went black.


***

"Well that sucked," Shane grumbled.

"I figured you would have been able to turn in the third time," Fluffy replied irritably.

"Just not my lucky day."

"I told you to go Divine Metamagic, but no ..."

"At least we got away," Ed said cheerfully.

"Of course, now we need to hire another cohort," Fluffy complained.

"I don't think it killed her," Shane said. "I saw it drag her up the hill and drop her down a hole."

"So let's go rescue her!" Ed declared.

"Can't we just hire someone else?" Fluffy grumbled. "It's easier, and we could get something more powerful. Like a wizard."

"Then who would use the Sunsword?" Shane asked.

"Ugh, fine, I guess we could hire a gish..."

"I'm rescuing Clarice," Ed said bluntly. "I like her, and she's part of the group."

"You get attached to characters too quickly," Fluffy argued. "They are disposable! Look at it this way: No-one Particularly Cares."

"I am going to go rescue her."

"Ugh, you're so stubborn ..."


***

Clarice groaned as she slowly awoke, the pain in her head a lingering reminder of her defeat. Her hands and feet were bound with heavy ropes, and she had been stripped of all possessions save for the thin white tunic she wore beneath her armor. From where she lay on the cold stone floor, she could see a dim green light emanating from the center of the room, where a pallid woman stood stirring a cauldron. The woman smiled wickedly when she saw that Clarice was awake. She stepped over to her and crouched down beside the captive. With the woman this close, Clarice could see that patches of her skin were missing, revealing thick green scales beneath.

"Well, my pretty," the woman cackled, "I'm certainly glad you are awake. As you can likely tell, this skin is getting rather worn out. Lucky for me, you are nice and young, so a suit made out of you will last me quite some time!"

There was the sound of a mighty battle cry, and Ed lunged from the shadows at the woman with his spear. The witch narrowly avoided being skewered by the sudden attack, and the creature let out an angry hiss as she attacked the man with her bare hands. Clarice winced when she heard Ed's nose break as the witch smashed her hand into his face, and he collapsed to the floor, felled by a single attack twice in the same day.

"That has got to be the worst rescue attempt I've ever seen," the witch said.

"At least he tried," Clarice retorted, struggling in vain against the ropes that bound her.

"Oh well," the witch said with a wicked smile as she drew a long skinning knife from her belt. "At least I can still have my fun."

Winds
2012-04-18, 01:53 PM
James and Ian are from a d20 modern campaign we ran before. The DM for this game played Ian, and named himself the God-Emperor once we we powerful enough to make it stick. He span it into this encounter after I made an offhand comment that I planned to enact the Horus Heresy later.

Speaking of my DM, he's tricky. Kalach's journal is part of the game now.


But man, SleepyShadow's party is crazy. I'm not sure if I should be amazed or depressed at what they get up to.

Dr Bwaa
2012-04-19, 11:13 AM
I've got a new chapter of the Joseph's Gap session for you guys! I'm reasonably happy with this one, so it's probably terrible :smallwink: Critiques of any kind are very welcome!

Chapter 1 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12924541&postcount=47)
Chapter 2 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13046788&postcount=61)
(Other stuff from this campaign is linked in the compendium (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12313682&postcount=1))



Sacrifice
or: Ill-Gotten Gains

Charlize, Filbert and I walk upstream in silence, boots crunching in the soft, dry grass of the riverbank. Filbert’s said he’s fine; he’s not mad, but I don’t know. I hit him pretty hard. He’ll have a nasty bruise tomorrow for sure. Charlize just raised an eyebrow when we told her what happened; lips pressed into that half-smile somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

Ducking under a pair of squat, ugly trees thrust out over the water, I spot Nim and Namia sitting together. They’re soaking wet and their skin is flushed and plastered with grass, but they look in much better spirits than the three of us. Namia is wearing a very flattering dress I’ve never seen before, and Nim is wearing a grin that has nothing to do with the pile of scavenged goods and coinpurses on the ground.

Namia, smiling faintly, interrupts me before I get a chance to ask what happened. “Nim discovered several nature spirits in the river, presumably tasked with guarding the people’s Sacrifices from thieves like us. They weren’t too much trouble.”

“Nope!” Nim confirms, pulling out the Nocturne and idly strumming a few chords. “I found a chest with Elven writing all over it, so I bet that’s important--is it the right thing Filbert? Oh! And I found a whole bunch of other stuff! There are some really nice-looking swords, some money--mostly bags and bags of coppers, though--oh, and Namia’s dress!”

Filbert circles around them slightly toward the pilfered goods, pulls his blindfold on for a moment, and responds, “yes, there’s an artifact of yours in there, Nim. I’m surprised you haven’t opened it yet!”

“Well, it’s locked,” Nim replies as Namia stretches and rises to join Filbert, “and trapped, so I decided to wait ‘til you guys got back.”

Charlize smirks. “Yes, I’m sure you came to that decision entirely on your own.” She follows Filbert and Namia toward the pile of recovered Sacrifices, leaning over to read the inscriptions across the large chest’s lid. She’s back in her own body, wearing the dress she bought an hour ago, green and black and silver, and somehow it fits her perfectly despite being tailored for a “different” person.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Nim asks from right beside me. I whirl and glare at him; he grins harder, and I glance back to the trio standing around the loot pile. At least no one seems to have heard him. I can feel my face heating up as I stomp over to the others, Nim laughing as he follows behind me.

“So,” I say idly as I join the others in their inspection of the chest--it’s in unreasonably good condition for being at the bottom of a river for seventy years--”This sure looks the right kind of suspicious. Everyone ready to see what’s inside?”

Nim saunters over, still chuckling. “Yeah, let’s do it. I can pick the lock, but like I said, it’s trapped as well. See these?” He indicates a line of decorative-looking marks about halfway up. “A whole bunch of fire’s gonna shoot out those tiny holes as soon as I start working. It’ll only take me a second to disable it, but you should stay clear while I do.”

With that, he climbs up on top of the lid, and the rest of us back away instinctively. “Namia, Charlize, get ready to put out anything that catches fire. Filbert, you and I get him out of there if anything goes wrong.” We spread out; I look around to everyone in turn, ensuring nobody is too close, except Nim, of course. Namia’s eyes are locked on him; she bites her lip as he crouches down and sticks a couple needles into the lock.

Instantly, shafts of flame burst from all sides of the chest, extending a constant three arm’s lengths or so in all directions. I squint against the light and heat, but, to his credit, Nim doesn’t even flinch, and a couple seconds later the flames disappear as quickly as they’d come. Namia frowns as a few patches of grass near her continue to burn, and she summons what looks like a tiny living wave, which sloshes itself around, putting out the small fires as it finds them while she continues to watch Nim.

No one approaches as Nim continues to work in silence, but then he suddenly jumps down and declares, “got it!” I step forward, slowly relaxing muscles in my neck that I hadn’t realized were tight, and Nim reaches down to pull open the lid.

The chest seems to fly open of its own accord, nothing visible inside at all, and Nim pitches forward, feet leaving the ground entirely. I dive at him, grabbing ahold of one arm, and instantly I feel an immense pressure from all sides, like I’m at the bottom of the sea and sinking fast, and I glimpse Filbert’s face, twisted into an uncharacteristic grimace as he grips Nim’s other arm, and the pressure builds, and I close my eyes because otherwise they’ll pop, and the world disappears.


And comments!

@SleepyShadow

The three of them had done nothing but argue about whose fault it was for not having tents, not being able to start a fire in the rain, and not preparing any spells to create food with.

Perfect.


...the blade was sequestered away somewhere inside Lysaga Hill. Still, Clarice had to question the motives of these three strangers. Fluffy, Shane, and Ed did not seem like the sort of people to help others without some kind of reward.

I don't think "away" is necessary here; it's redundant and breaks up the flow. The rest of this paragraph, though, is great, maybe largely because I'm rooting for Clarice so her thinking intelligently about the PCs is good to see.


"Like you can stop me. I'm two tiers higher than you!"

I would love to see Clarice's reaction to this. As a reader my reaction is "lol", but seeing her confusion at this comment would make it that much better.


a single pulse of energy

Describe this more! I realize that it's supposed to be shocking that it so casually deals with Ed, but a more complete description to help me to envision it better would make this moment more effective. Also, all the video game references are great--this time I'm okay with Clarice not reacting to it, since there are bigger problems.


"Of course, now we need to hire another cohort," Fluffy complained.

Nooooooooooo. At least this time they're bothering to save her though! (at least until they forget or get sidetracked or stop caring, anyway).


patches of her skin were missing, revealing thick green scales beneath.

Great description here. Also, eww.


"At least I can still have my fun."
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF.

This was a great chapter. Poor Clarice (and poor Ed!).

SleepyShadow
2012-04-19, 07:00 PM
First, a few comments for LordHenry:


... Nim is wearing a grin that has nothing to do with the pile of scavenged goods and coinpurses on the ground.

My first reaction to this was "Sex on the riverbank?"


She’s back in her own body, wearing the dress she bought an hour ago, green and black and silver, and somehow it fits her perfectly despite being tailored for a “different” person.

Changlings are just that awesome.


“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Nim asks from right beside me. I whirl and glare at him; he grins harder, and I glance back to the trio standing around the loot pile. At least no one seems to have heard him. I can feel my face heating up as I stomp over to the others, Nim laughing as he follows behind me.

Did this occur ooc as well? :smalltongue:


...and I close my eyes because otherwise they’ll pop, and the world disappears.

That just sounds painful. What happens next? :smallbiggrin:

Overall, very well written.


@Winds: I'm amazed at what they do about 10% of the time. The other 90% of the time I have to fight the urge to repeatedly smack my head against the table.

Also, snippet time!

"Is This Normal?"
"I think I'll start with the boy," the witch cackled, grabbing Clarice by the hair and dragging her over to Ed. "I'll make you watch him suffer for a while."

Clarice's despair suddenly lifted when she heard the sound of combat and the yowling of many cats echoing from somewhere nearby. Help was on the way. She just needed to keep the witch occupied long enough for them to arrive. So she did the only thing she could think of: fight back.

The young woman swung her legs around and smashed them into the back of the witch's knee. The hag yelped in surprise and dropped Clarice to the floor, then turned and glared at her.

"Stupid girl," the witch snarled, grabbing Clarice by the front of her tunic and pulling her up to eye level. "I'll carve you up first, you little ..."

Clarice smashed her forehead into the witch's nose with a satisfying crunch. The witch dropped her again, clutching at her face, and Clarice watched in horror as the hag's face began to crack and flake off into little pieces. The witch let out a deep growl and lunged at Clarice with the skinning knife, but the blade shattered in her hand just before she could plunge it into the girl's body. Clarice could not contain a smile as Shane and Fluffy entered the chamber, followed closely by the army of mangy tabby cats.

"Oh I'm sorry, did I break your concentration?" Shane said with a smirk.

"Why must you interfere, outlanders?" the witch shrieked as the rest of her skin began to crumble away. "I just want a new suit!"

With a swift uttering of words Clarice could not understand, a beam of light and fire lanced forth from Shane's palm, striking the witch in the chest. The hag let out one final scream before she collapsed to the floor, her body smoldering from the heat of the spell.

"Looks like this witch wasn't all she was cracked up to be," Fluffy laughed.

Shane threw his fist up in the air and let out a triumphant "YEEEEAAAAAAAAHH! (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6YMPAH67f4o)"

"We're just full of one-liners tonight."


***

"It puts the lotion on its skin or it gets the hose again!"

"Will you please stop that, Fluffy?" Clarice asked yet again. "I know that I had to be rescued. You don't need to mock me for it."

Despite the tibbit's rude behavior, Clarice was grateful that the outlanders had arrived when they did. After the defeat of the witch, the group had found a hidden compartment beneath the cauldron which contained Clarice's equipment as well as an intricately carved oak box. Ed had proved to be an expert with traps and locks, and had been able to open the box without any ill befalling the group. Within that box was what they had been seeking for many days, and what could prove to be Barovia's only hope for peace.

"So what does it do, exactly?" Clarice asked as the four of them walked back down the hill.

"It's, uh, magic," Shane replied hesitantly.

"Well I'd hope so," Clarice laughed, clapping him affectionately on the shoulder.

"We have no idea exactly what it does," Fluffy informed her. "Just hit things with it. It's the only reason we rescued you anyway."

Clarice sighed contentedly. She did not mind not knowing all of the powers the Sunsword had. She was just glad that things finally seemed to be going well. She looked toward the sky, letting the icy rain wash away the dirt and grime that had stuck to her inside the witch's cave. She longed for a bath, and remembered that Tser Lake was not far off. She wondered if her companions would mind a small stop before departing for Castle Ravenloft.

She bumped into Ed's back suddenly, and she stammered out an apology for not paying attention. It was then that she noticed all three of the outlanders were looking around suspiciously.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"We failed our Listen checks," Fluffy whispered.

"Huh?"

"I mean, we didn't hear anything unusual."

"Okay, so ... let's keep going."

"Not until we figure out what we didn't hear."

Clarice scratched the back of her head, wondering if all outlanders were as strange as these three. Suddenly a trio of hulking, black furred wolf-beasts lunged at the group from the thick trees on either side of the road. The howled ferociously as they attacked with tooth and nail. Clarice narrowly avoided being gutted by her foe as its claws tore through her armor but stopped just short of her flesh. Reacting quickly, she counterattacked with a heavy blow to the creature's leg, the Sunsword flashing brilliantly as she struck. The wound on his leg would hopefully prevent him from attacking one of her companions.

"Time to run!" Fluffy shrieked as he bolted down the road. "No spells!"

"It's Brindol City all over again!" Shane grumbled irritably as the heavily armored priest struggled to keep up with the cat.

"Shut up! You're out of spells, too!"

"I am very sorry Clarice!" Ed shouted over his shoulder as he too fled the battle.

"You're fleeing again?" Clarice hollered angrily. "Is this normal for you people?!"

"Yes!" she heard Fluffy shout back.

The wolfmen quickly encircled Clarice, cutting off any hope of escape for the young woman. They leered at her hungrily, thick saliva dribbling down from their fanged maws. Clarice swallowed back her fear and tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword.

"I just got rescued from a witch half an hour ago, and now I get left to the wolves," Clarice grumbled bitterly. "Typical."


***

"I hate random encounters," Fluffy said. "They mess up my system."

"You have a system?" Shane asked.

"I divide up my spells into threes, that way I know exactly how many spells per encounter I can cast given the average three encounters per day."

"Heaven forbid there be more than three battles ..."

"So what are we going to do now?" Ed asked quickly.

"Same thing we were planning on doing," Fluffy replied. "Go to Castle Ravenloft, kill Strahd, take over Barovia, move on to the next place."

"But Clarice is gone, so now no one can use the sword against the vampire."

"We'll just go into town, hire a barbarian or something, and give him the sword. Happy?"

"But Clarice had the sword, and we left her behind."

Fluffy and Shane looked at one another as if suddenly coming to the same realization. The tibbet groaned in exasperation and the priest threw down his mace in frustration.

"I hate you, Fluffy," he snapped. "I hate you so very much right now."

Dr Bwaa
2012-04-20, 09:53 AM
Comment Responses (thanks so much!) :

My first reaction to this was "Sex on the riverbank?"

Good; I'm glad that came across :smallamused:


Did this occur ooc as well? :smalltongue:

Heh. I'm making up a lot of the more personal stuff; the session this is all based on happened several years ago in real-time, and notes are few and far-between. That moment is actually based on a different pair of my friends who aren't in this campaign. In the real-life version, the comment did not go unnoticed :smallwink:


That just sounds painful. What happens next?

To find that out, you will have to wait an indeterminate amount of time! The next chapter is mostly dialogue, so either I'll have an easy time of it and get it up really soon, or I'll prove incapable of writing conversation and it'll take forever. Which will it be? Who knows!

@SleepyShadow

"We're just full of one-liners tonight."

Who is this?


"Well I'd hope so," Clarice laughed, clapping him affectionately on the shoulder.

Really? This came as a surprise to me. Sure, he was part of the rescue party, but I wouldn't expect her to be "affectionate" toward him in any way. Especially since, from the descriptions we've seen, he's just a grody, lecherous priest.


"Not until we figure out what we didn't hear."

And again, I am reminded who is playing these characters :smallbiggrin:


"Time to run!" Fluffy shrieked as he bolted down the road. "No spells!"

"It's Brindol City all over again!" Shane grumbled irritably as the heavily armored priest struggled to keep up with the cat.

"Shut up! You're out of spells, too!"

"I am very sorry Clarice!" Ed shouted over his shoulder as he too fled the battle.

"You're fleeing again?" Clarice hollered angrily. "Is this normal for you people?!"

It's not really clear that they're leaving her behind here. When she is "left to the wolves" a couple lines later, I was surprised, since they're all still talking with each other and so on. If they're leaving her behind, it would be good to make that a little clearer.


"I hate you, Fluffy," he snapped. "I hate you so very much right now."

I love that Clarice has basically survived the predicaments the PCs have put her in thus far due to their total incompetence. They can't even leave people for dead effectively!

Fun snippet, though it doesn't flow quite as well as the last one, in my opinion. I did love the "dramatic" reveal of the Sunsword :smallamused: PCs charging around, questing after items they know nothing about (and then promptly forgetting them) is so classic, and fits this group really well. Also, Fluffy mocking Clarice for her name/being the damsel in distress is wonderful. Glad I was at home when I read this rather than at work, or I would have gotten some looks :smalltongue:

Lord_Gareth
2012-04-20, 11:08 AM
And I return once more to haunt the living with a somewhat brutal snippet from Scion. Be warned: while the descriptions may not be as graphic as they could be (and OotS set the precedent with the evisceration), the descriptions may be unsettling to some. You have been warned.


Visitation
Meet the Kinslayer

This club is weird as hell.

I mean, I suppose I should've been expecting this, when Amy invited me out here - her, Jack, and me, all hanging out at some half-trendy goth club that couldn't decide if it wanted to be a poetry slam, a dance hall or a bunch of people hanging around smoking cloves and ignoring each other. Amy's in the restroom and Jack's being all antisocial and weird like he usually is.

This club sucks.

I'm about to say as much to Jack when I see a flash of red hair on the other side of whatever the hell it is they're calling their dance floor. I look closer and it turns out the face attached to that red hair is looking right at me - and it's gorgeous. Long, dark red hair falling down to the middle of her back, deep green eyes, a twitchy, witchy little smile. She looks Irish, or maybe it's Scottish, or maybe I don't really care, because she's crooking a finger at me to come and sit at her table. I tell Jack I'm getting up ("Whatever Pal") and head over without a second thought, downing my Mountain Dew on the way over like it makes me look bad ass.

When I get closer I realize she didn't even make an attempt to fit in; she's in black biker leather with blood-red accents, metal-shod combat boots that go up to her knees and fingerless gloves with thick metal studs. It's hot as hell in this damn club but she hasn't even bothered to take off her jacket. She looks like she's over twenty, and the bottle of whiskey at her table kinda backs that up.

"Took you long enough kid," she says with a grin. "Take a seat. Whiskey?"

I can feel the heat rising in my face and manage to stammer something about only being seventeen, which just makes her laugh. I'm not entirely certain when I started sitting, but she's putting a shot glass in my hand and I'm tipping it back hesitantly. The whiskey burns on the way down.

"You got a name?"

"P-Pallas," I manage to stammer out, feeling like a dumbass. "But my friends call me Pal."

She laughs again and I'm starting to wonder why she even asked me over here when she says, "You know that's a girl's name, right?"

The accusation snaps me out of my embarrassment with a startled, "What?"

"Yeah, Pallas. It's another name for Athena. She was a pretty big player back in the day, y'know. Still is, depending on who you ask."

A pentagram necklace winks at me from just above her bust and I nod a little bit, not wanting to offend her. I flick my eyes back up to hers and her smile widens until I can see teeth. I swallow, "You got a name?"

"Kristina, thanks for asking." She pours me another shot, "Want one?"

"You trying to get me drunk?"

She slides it across the table at me, "Yeah, actually. Looks like I might be a little late on that, though."

"What do you -" As I'm turning to look at whatever she's looking at, I realize that the music's stopped, and so has most everyone on the dance floor. I see Amy come out of the bathroom with a confused look on her face and Jack asleep, of all things, at our table.

Everyone in the club is looking directly at me.

"You're gonna want to get behind cover kid," she says casually before getting up, grabbing me by the shoulders and depositing me roughly behind the bar.

I'm about to protest I see one of the goth kids from the dance floor step forward and snarl, "You cannot protect him from all of us, Kinslayer. You will die here!"

Kristina smiles a wicked, savage grin that I have to look away from. I regret it almost immediately; everyone in the club but my two friends is in the midst of sprouting fur and claws and growing to huge proportions like some bad werewolf flick.

A small part of my mind says, Right, you're in a bad werewolf flick. You're gonna die, Pal.

The one that spoke lunges forward only to get swatted aside by some blurred movement from Kristina that I barely even see; one moment she's smiling, the next moment there's blood all over the place and she's tossing aside the mangled wreckage of a solid oak chair. There's dead silence over the club for a moment or two.

Then it's broken by a primal yell that sends my mind reeling and hurts my ears.

"COME ON THEN!"

She moves hellishly fast, ducking low and sinking a fist into a werewolf's gut. Bone cracks, and then blood gushes out in a red torrent, flooding the dance floor. Without missing a beat she grabs onto something inside her victim and lifts her up bodily before bringing her crashing down like a hammer onto another of her furred kin. Bones break with sickening force and I feel my gorge rise, but the sound snaps the werewolves out of their trance and they descend on Kristina in a howling pack.

She backhands one and his neck twists so fast it snaps. A tooth flies behind the bar with me, but I ignore it, too engrossed by watching six-inch claws scrape against her leather jacket and throw up sparks from it like it's plate steel, not even leaving a scratch. She throws up her forearm to prevent one from biting her in the face and I watch as its fangs shatter against her jacket. A vicious twist breaks that neck too.

She's laughing, as gleeful and carefree and terrifying as an avatar of Death.

One of them tries to jump over her to get to me and she catches it by its ankles and slams it down into a steel table. The table and the werewolf's entire muzzle explode, showering blood and bits of bone around it, and she swings the corpse like a club to scatter the lycantheropes around her before throwing it out a window without even looking twice. Her foot snaps upwards and then stomps like she's kicking a door in and one of them catches it in the chest; the bones collapse, leaving a boot-shaped hole that wells with arterial blood.

I vomit onto my shoes.

There's not a lot of werewolves left at this point and the four that are still there look like they'd rather not do this. She doesn't give them a choice, feinting at one and then snapping a kick at another's crotch. As he doubles over in pain she drives her knee into his ribs, collapsing his entire right side and forcing him to cough blood. She drops the lycantherope and picks up a chair, hurling it at a lunging werewolf so hard it carries across the room and out of an unbroken window. The two that are left flee, and Kristina gives a savage yell of victory, a scream of triumph far, far older than civilized thought.

After an eternity, she walks through the thickening pools of blood to me and offers me a hand. Numbly, I let her lift me out from behind the bar.

"Sorry about that kid," she says very quietly, her voice hard, almost regretful. "I really wish you didn't have to see that."

"Wh-who are you?"

She looks away, not quite able to hide her shame. "They call me the Kinslayer, and right now, I'm your protector. Come on, we've gotta get cleaned up. The cops will be here soon."

Lady Moreta
2012-04-21, 02:48 AM
Humph. I can't believe no one told me about this! :smallfrown:

*sulks*

Yes, I am a grown woman. Yes, I am sulking. :smalltongue:

Maybe this will inspire me to finish the two or three snippets I have sitting on my hard drive. Either that or my brain will explode with the sheer volume of stuff to read...

Thanks for sorting all the previous snippets Henry :smallsmile: One correction if you don't mind... the campaign name for 'Silver and Co' is actually The Celadians . Thanks :smallsmile:

Wow, there's so many to read and comment on... *is overwhelmed*

Lord_Gareth
2012-04-21, 09:43 AM
Pssst....start with miiiiiiiiiiine!

Dr Bwaa
2012-04-21, 12:48 PM
And I return once more to haunt the living...


Humph. I can't believe no one told me about this! :smallfrown:

…One correction if you don't mind

Good to see both of you again! :smallbiggrin: And corrected! I have some time today, so I'm hoping to get a few more pages of the first thread collected, as well.

@Lord_Gareth

Long, dark red hair falling down to the middle of her back

It was a little surprising to me that you could see her hair all the way down her back, if she's across the room, especially since we can't see what she's wearing until a little later.


downing my Mountain Dew on the way over like it makes me look bad ass.

This is great; it says so much about the who this speaker is and how he sees himself.


"But my friends call me Pal."

I was going to make a joke earlier when I didn't know his name and call him "Pal" since that's what Jack referred to him as. Heheh.


getting up, grabbing me by the shoulders and depositing me roughly behind the bar.

She's at a table, right? There's got to be some movement for her to get Pal behind the bar--does she carry him around it and plop him down, or is it more of a toss-over-the-bar situation?


hurts my ears

This feels kind of weak after "sets my mind reeling".


*fight scene*

I want a jacket like that :smalleek:

Very enjoyable snippet. I'm wondering what Any and Jack were doing through all that, and what comes next. I'm hooked. :smallbiggrin:


Now off to update the compendium! Goal is to get through page 15 today.

EDIT: omgomgomg. It is done! Please go check out my links to your stuff to make sure I've put everything in the right campaign, don't have broken links, and so on, because I'm sure I've screwed up a couple things here and there.

SleepyShadow
2012-04-21, 02:21 PM
@Lord Henry:

Who is this?

I forgot who said that, actually :smallredface:


Really? This came as a surprise to me. Sure, he was part of the rescue party, but I wouldn't expect her to be "affectionate" toward him in any way. Especially since, from the descriptions we've seen, he's just a grody, lecherous priest.

Perhaps 'affectionately' was too strong of a word. I was going for 'in a friendly manner' without so many words.

@Lord Gareth:
I'm going out on a limb and guessing this is World of Darkness or one of the other White Wolf games, ya? Anyway, I thought it was fairly well-written overall. I liked the "bad werewolf flick" bit.

One thing I found slightly strange was at the end. Pallas already knew the woman's name (Kristina), so why did he ask her "who are you?" at the end?

As a small aside: Can this thread handle two lords? :smalltongue:

Anyhow, on with the next snippet!

The Hair of the Dog
"You have rested eight hours. Healing spells cast until fully healed."

"Shane, why do clerics have to be so obnoxious?" Fluffy grumbled as the group arose with the dawn.

The skies were still clouded and gray, and the icy rain had yet to abate. After a meal of cold trail rations, they set off for the location where they had been ambushed by the wolf-creatures. There they came upon a corpse, but likely not the one they had been expecting.

"Where did this elf man come from?" Fluffy asked.

"Beats me," Shane replied with a shrug.

"He still has loot," Ed informed them as he pocketed the dead man's belongings.

The three debated on their next course of action, with many accusations being thrown at Fluffy for not being able to summon a creature that could track down Clarice.

"It's not that I can't," the tibbet grumbled. "I simply refuse to stoop low enough to ask a dog for help."

"Hey look!" Ed said excitedly. "I see a piece of Clarice's armor over there on the ground."

He motioned for his companions to follow him off the road, where he stooped and picked up a scrap of red leather. Though tattered and bloody, it was still identifiable as a shoulder pad.

"These things sunder?" Fluffy scoffed incredulously. "What a waste of time."

"Regardless, it still gives us a direction to go," Shane replied.

"Fifty gold says we have to rescue her sorry ass again," the tibbet grumbled as they entered the woods.

"I don't mind saving her ass," the priest said with a cheesy grin. "Still, I put fifty on her being dead."

They pressed on through the forest for many hours, occasionally finding another scrap of bloody armor or tunic. At one point they found a single white-blonde hair caught on a tree branch. It was clear that Clarice had not gone quietly.

At last, the three adventurers came upon a small clearing with the ruined remains of a campsite. The ashes of a long-dead fire lay in the center of the clearing, a tent lay toppled over at the far end of the clearing, and Clarice's shredded and bloody equipment lay in a haphazard heap near the dead fire. Several empty potion bottles were scattered about the campsite. The Sunsword was stuck in the ground beside what little evidence remained of Clarice.

However, their attention was immediately drawn to the two dead elves that occupied the camp. Their bodies had been savagely torn apart, and a carrion crow was already showing interest in the cadavers. The bird was perched on one of the elf's heads and was contentedly plucking loose bits of flesh from the corpse.

"Any idea what happened here?" Fluffy asked.

"I'll take a crack at playing Grissom," Shane chuckled. "Looks to me like Clarice killed one of the werewolves that was back on the road, and when he died he turned back into his normal form. The other two killed her and dragged her back here. After they ate her, some other beastie showed up looking for food. Since they were likely tired and injured after fighting Clarice, they couldn't put up much of a fight and got killed."

"Nice theory," Fluffry replied, "but why didn't your other beastie eat the elf-wolves?"

"Maybe it found chickens!" Ed declared.

Suddenly, Fluffy arched his back and began to growl as he looked around suspiciously.

"I hear something," the tibbet hissed.

"You still owe me fifty gold," Shane said as he readied his mace and shield.

Several tense moments passed as the three adventurers stood back to back, weapons and spells at the ready. When nothing happened, they relaxed once more.

"It must not have been anything important," Ed said.

"If it wasn't important, why did we make Listen checks?" Fluffy balked.

"To keep us on our toes?" Shane suggested.

Without warning, a white blur lunged down from the treetops and slammed into the priest, knocking him to the ground with the creature atop him. The pale furred wolf-creature was more lithe and lean than the ones that had attacked them before, but that did nothing to lessen its ferocity. It savagely tore into Shane with its teeth and claws.

"Get it off me!" the priest screamed.

"Don't worry," Ed shouted, "I'll stop the Warwick!"

The wolf howled furiously at this remark. It rolled away from the Shane as Ed stabbed at it with his spear, then lunged at the rogue. It effortlessly avoided his second strike and sank its fangs into Ed's shoulder. It shook him savagely, then flung him into a nearby tree trunk. The rogue hit the tree with a sickening crack, fell to the ground, and did not get up again.

"Nice job pissing it off," Shane grumbled as he staggered to his feet.

"Prepare to meet your kitty doom!" Fluffy cackled as he called forth his horde of tabby cats.

They swarmed over the wolf-beast's body, but the creature was not phased by the scratching and biting cats.

"It has DR," Fluffy sobbed. "No fair ...."


***

Spells were exhausted. Wands were depleted. The party had even tried melee combat. Shane had quickly stopped wasting healing spells on Ed in the battle against the wolf-creature. Every time the rogue would try to attack, an aura of flame would burst from the beast and harm him more than he could wound the foe. Ed had been left on the ground unconscious after the third time this occurred.

"I suggest we run," Fluffy said. "Ed can roll up a wizard and we'll come back and kill this thing tomorrow."

"I have a funny feeling neither the monster nor the Sunsword will still be here if we do that," Shane argued. "No, we have to see this through to the end."

"Don't make this a total wipe," the tibbet grumbled.

The wolf-creature snarled as Shane stepped forward, his mace and shield at the ready. Both combatants were weary from wounds, but nothing seemed to deter the beast from its assault.

"What are you doing?" Fluffy asked incredulously.

"I'm taking this thing down," Shane replied. "For honor! For glory! FOR THE PLOT!"

The priest and the wolf crashed together in a flurry of fur and steel. Fluffy sat back and watched as the two combatants laid into one another with all they could muster. The sudden bursts of flame from the creature's body seared Shane's arms and face as he struck, but his mighty armor and shield stymied the beast's attacks. The priest's guard dropped for only a moment, but in that time the creature's claws tore through his breastplate and deep into his chest.

"If you drop I'm leaving you here," Fluffy warned.

"I figured you would," Shane grumbled, his body shuddering in pain.

As the wolf reared back to deliver the final blow, Shane let out a mighty war cry and smashed his mace into the side of the creature's head with every last ounce of strength he had. The burst of fire from the creature's invisible aura blasted him back and he hit the ground hard. He did not get up again. The wolf-beast reeled from the blow, staggered dizzily, and let out a long howl.

The howl slowly grew into a tortured cry of anguish as the creature shrank and contorted, its fur falling to the ground in clumps, giving way to the bronze skin beneath. The creature collapsed to the ground as the last of its pale fur fell away, revealing the naked and badly wounded form of a young woman.

Fluffy stared at Clarice for quite some time to make sure that she did not get up again. At last, he began to search through Shane's belongings, hoping that the priest's wand of healing still had a few charges left.

TheCountAlucard
2012-04-21, 03:40 PM
As a small aside: Can this thread handle two lords? :smalltongue:It's been able to handle a lord and a count, so why not? :smallamused:

SleepyShadow
2012-04-21, 03:59 PM
It's been able to handle a lord and a count, so why not? :smallamused:

Well, Mr. Alucard, I believe it is because the thread is terrified of your vampiric power 'count' and 'lord' are completely different titles. :smallbiggrin:

Dr Bwaa
2012-04-21, 04:02 PM
The last thread was home to at least four Lords, despite having only one Lady :smallwink:

@SleepyShadow

The three debated

I would move this earlier. It's not obvious at the very start that Clarice is not with them, even though as a reader of your stories I know it's pretty likely :smallbiggrin: It just felt a little awkward the way the information was presented, and I had to work harder than I would like to in order to make sense of the first couple paragraphs in terms of who was where and so on. Putting the "three" right at the start, the first time the "group" is mentioned, would clear all of that up.


"I simply refuse to stoop low enough to ask a dog for help."

Ahahaha. Perfect.


"I'll stop the Warwick!"

They're still doing this, are they? :smallamused:

Very well done snippet. I love that the PCs wouldn't put two and two together "HMMM she was fighting werewolves and now they're dead and there's a different werewolf attacking us GOSH WHO COULD IT BE". One thing that bugged me was this moment:

what little evidence remained of Clarice.

If this is just referring to her gear, you should clarify that. I pictured a pile of bones as the "evidence". Something indicating that they couldn't actually find her body (even just "The other two killed her and dragged her back here. After they ate her, bones and all...") would help a lot, because the reader should be able to tell right away that the new werewolf is Clarice, even though the PCs couldn't. Also I don't know if we're supposed to know yet whether Clarice is still alive, but if she is, that could use some clarification as well (after all, he could just as well be looking for healing for the other party members).

All in all, very good job on this one.

SleepyShadow
2012-04-22, 10:43 AM
I love that the PCs wouldn't put two and two together "HMMM she was fighting werewolves and now they're dead and there's a different werewolf attacking us GOSH WHO COULD IT BE".

I did try very hard in-game to get them to realize who it was. I had the piece of hair to remind them what her hair color was (I doubted they would have remembered). I was even describing the maneuvers and stances almost identical to how she had been using them prior. I guess it's a good thing we don't play Call of Cthulhu or they would never figure things out :smalltongue:


Also I don't know if we're supposed to know yet whether Clarice is still alive, but if she is, that could use some clarification as well (after all, he could just as well be looking for healing for the other party members).

It was still up for debate at the time what they were going to do with her, so I intentionally left it with an ambiguous ending.


All in all, very good job on this one.

Thank you :smallbiggrin:

Lord_Gareth
2012-04-23, 12:19 AM
@LordHenry

It was a little surprising to me that you could see her hair all the way down her back, if she's across the room, especially since we can't see what she's wearing until a little later.

Perhaps an error on my part, but I've done it myself before in IRL; the distance can make the, ah, 'fashion choices' a little indistinct. Especially if you're a hair guy.


This is great; it says so much about the who this speaker is and how he sees himself.

^_^


I was going to make a joke earlier when I didn't know his name and call him "Pal" since that's what Jack referred to him as. Heheh.

Minor foreshadowing!


She's at a table, right? There's got to be some movement for her to get Pal behind the bar--does she carry him around it and plop him down, or is it more of a toss-over-the-bar situation?

The unceremonious dumping is an over-the-bar kinda thing. Will clarify that in the future.


This feels kind of weak after "sets my mind reeling".

Noted.


I want a jacket like that :smalleek:

100% Nemean Hide Jacket. Nemeans (named after the Nemean Lion) are animals warped by the cthonic power of the Titans, and are all gigantic, vicious, and nearly indestructible. Kristina killed a Nemean Rattlesnake with her bare hands, ripped the skin off with the same, and had the jacket mocked up by a dwarf that owed her a favor.


Very enjoyable snippet. I'm wondering what Any and Jack were doing through all that, and what comes next. I'm hooked. :smallbiggrin:

You know, I kinda forgot about 'em myself, but if it makes you feel better they factor into zero further Kristina snippets. More will be coming ^_^


@SleepyShadow

I'm going out on a limb and guessing this is World of Darkness or one of the other White Wolf games, ya? Anyway, I thought it was fairly well-written overall. I liked the "bad werewolf flick" bit.

Yeah, it's Scion, the unholy (and awesome) love child between World of Darkness and Exalted. You play the sons and daughters of classical pagan gods.


One thing I found slightly strange was at the end. Pallas already knew the woman's name (Kristina), so why did he ask her "who are you?" at the end?

Pal's question was more in reaction to the slaughter he'd just witnessed, a numb-struck attempt to reconcile the destruction of his entire worldview with what he'd just seen. "Who" came out instead of "what" but the question remained pretty fair, all in all.[/quote]

Question: any impressions about Kristina from this snippet, either as a person or just as a combatant?

Dr Bwaa
2012-04-23, 10:02 AM
Question: any impressions about Kristina from this snippet, either as a person or just as a combatant?

Well as a combatant she's certainly... capable :smalleek: She seems to relish the combat itself, given this line: "She's laughing, as gleeful and carefree and terrifying as an avatar of Death." But the end suggests that there's more to her personality than that, especially since she's apparently feeling actual shame--about what specifically isn't obvious, but the two things that come to mind are either (A) not being able to protect Pal from the emotional scarring that was just inflicted on him, or (B) perhaps she's ashamed of her bloodlust itself, when she's not in the throes of combat. Since the shame line comes when Pal asks her whatwho she is, she's maybe also ashamed of her heritage/position as the Kinslayer.

I did have another question that I forgot to mention in my first batch of comments--how was she doing lethal damage to all these werewolves without silver?

Lord_Gareth
2012-04-23, 10:47 AM
I did have another question that I forgot to mention in my first batch of comments--how was she doing lethal damage to all these werewolves without silver?

Like the World of Darkness, Scion's system measures three levels of damage - bashing, lethal, and aggravated. Having your health score filled up with bashing knocks you out, filled with lethal (potentially) to die, and aggravated is a certainty of death. While Werewolves in Scion do regenerate, they're still killed by a complete flow of lethal damage, and they take aggravated from silver attacks.

With all of that said, those gloves Kristina wears were a gift from her father, Ares, and they convert her unarmed damage from bashing to lethal. Coupled with her insanely high Epic Strength (for damage) and Epic Dexterity (for accuracy) scores, she's more than capable of using them to blow holes out of plate steel, stop a speeding semi truck by punching it out, slaying a werewolf in one blow or, my favorite, go toe-to-toe with a dragon in a formal duel.

Lord_Gareth
2012-04-23, 02:25 PM
And now for something different - a Skyrim snippet. Because, well, because I feel like it. That and I've been on a huge Skyrim kick lately. Warning - May contain dramatizations of events that occurred much more simply in-game.


Pragmatism
The Enemy of my Enemy is my Friend

It's too damn cold here. It's too damn cold in this entire province. I want to go home, but I can't be caught trying to cross the border again.

The damn Legionnaire is trying to talk to me. I guess I'd better pay attention.

"Once more into the breach, eh Jalrissa?" he says as I creep up to his position behind a large stone. The fort we're supposed to be taking is ahead, up the mountain from us. His name starts with an 'H', I remember that much, but I wasn't paying much attention when I first met him and I've developed nothing but contempt for him since. I vaguely hope he dies so I can stop having to listen to him.

"I suppose so," I say quietly. "The Legate said this one was going to be complicated. What do you have for me?"

He points up the mountain, "Up that way is a grate that we think leads directly into the prisons. If you can get in there, you can take out the Stormcloaks inside and free the prisoners to coincide with our assault."

Stealth. Finally, an Imperial who speaks my language. A ghost of a smile crosses my lips, making the man in front of me laugh lightly.

"Are you ever going to wear your uniform, Jalrissa? All that black makes you look like some kind of assassin."

The ghost of a smile broadens, "All the better to make those Stormcloaks fear me then, eh?"

He gives me a nervous chuckle as I settle against the rock next to him and put on a blanket. He looks at me, puzzled, and says, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Waiting until nightfall. Tell your men not to disturb me or I start cutting out tongues."

Quickly and easily despite the cold, I drift off to sleep.


* * * *

I dream of fire, of the Sanctuary burning, of the screams of my Brotherhood. I can taste smoke and feel the sting of sword wounds and the hard, cold body of the Night Mother pressing against me as I shelter in her coffin like a rat.

I am there, and I am elsewhere, opening the throat of the Oculus agent responsible for harming my brothers and sisters. As I send him into the Void, I feel a sense of cold satisfaction.

I am on board the Emperor's sailing vessel, speaking to a man many would kill for just to get a chance to meet. I am here to kill him, and I am very surprised that he seems intent on letting me. He says that he knows the way of emperors and assassins. He asks me to kill the man who hired me.

I am far away, in a cheap tavern in a strange city. My employer has just given me the payment I was promised, information on a dead drop containing twenty thousand septims. In return, I give him a knife, burying it to the hilt in his skull. The look of incomprehension on his face is curious, and I think about it for awhile.

I am in the new Sanctuary, thinking about the nature of assassins, of law and order and the people whose place it is to oppose us. I hear one of the students complain bitterly about the Empire and I think.

I am all of these places. I am none of them. Perhaps it is fitting that my dreams go dark places, or perhaps they are simply the only place outside of the Sanctuary where I can truly be honest. Perhaps they are a gift from Sithis. There is much I do not care to know.

I am training an apprentice, and I have slapped her for speaking ill of the Empire. She looks at me with that same confused face I saw once before, and I say quietly to her, "Killers for hire do not thrive in states ruled by chaos. The Empire opposes chaos."

Months later, I am in Solitude, the city that I have shamed so many times with my arts of stealth and murder. I am speaking to a man who knows me only as a prisoner lucky enough not to be executed. He is asking for my oath to serve the Emperor with my life. I say to him, "I swear," and incline my head with great solemnity. Perhaps I even mean it.


* * * *

My 'friend' shakes me awake. I restrain the automatic reflex to attack and open one eye to be sure it's him. The stars twinkle at me from the clear sky above. Damn, I'd been hoping for some cloud cover for this.

"Try not to make any noise," he advises me, and I hold a hand up to silence him.

"I trust you to do your job. Trust me to do mine," I say quietly as I get up into a low crouch. I stretch a little, staring at him with a flat expression, "An Imperial's idea of stealth is not blowing the horn before you fire the catapults, so I'm not about to take your advice on it."

He chuckles, "Fair enough. How will we know the battle is joined?"

I smile cruelly, "When they start noticing how many of them are already dead."


* * * *

It isn't much warmer in the prison than it is outside. Don't these damn Nords know how to build anything? I slip out of the grate tunnel and land silently on the stone floor, glad it isn't wood but cursing the fool that didn't include wood. Wood makes noise, helps you detect intruders. Whoever this architect was, I hope Sithis is tormenting him eternally.

I draw my bow and string it quietly, then rest an arrow on the string. Padding quietly, I put my head around the corner and see two Stormcloaks standing at an idle guard on opposite sides of one room. I draw the arrow back smoothly, take aim, and let the string fall off of my fingers; the force of the shot sends the arrow into the soft, unprotected neck-flesh of one of the Stormcloaks, and he falls forward into a loose pile of straw.

"I told you you shouldn't drink so much!" his companion exclaims in exasperation. When he goes over to help, another arrow sends him, too, into the Void. I move in closer, checking the corners of the room with a quick sweep of the eyes, and pluck the key rings from their waists, sliding both into pouches in my belt. Stairs invite me to move upwards, but I check the balconies first and find that my professionalism is rewarded - another Stormcloak is eating dinner at a table.

My arrow pins the apple to the inside of his mouth, half-bitten and bleeding juice. The shot doesn't kill him, but choking out on his own blood and the fruit certainly does.

I creep up the stairs and find a hallway with weapon racks and shelves bolted to the walls. Heading down it takes me to a storage room and a new set of stairs that goes downwards. I move down it patiently, careful to avoid crunching on the light snow that's blown inside onto it, and peer around the corner. A Stormcloak is almost on me, but I have enough time to draw my knife, rise, and drive it into his eye before he can react. I catch him before he falls and lower him gently to the ground before extracting my blade.

I bent the tip. Damn. That's going to take forever to fix.

There are no more guards that I can find, and the cells are just another room away, so I step through and begin unlocking the doors. "Didn't expect to see a Dunmer here," one of them quips, earning him a slap on the shoulder from me. I point to the racked weapons and armor and wait while the prisoners dress.

"We're going to attack the fort from the inside," I explain quietly as they strap on the last of their armor. "You men punch through directly, I'll follow up behind and take out the archers on the walls. Stay quiet if you can. If you can't, at least be very loud. I can't survive being filled with holes any more than you can."

They nod and we creep to the door of the fort, opening it gently and letting a harsh wind inside the prison. Of course, it's just our luck that one of the Stormcloaks is looking right at us and screams, "Prison break!" before one of my men sends him to the Void.

"Kill them all," I say quietly before turning sharply left to do my job.


* * * *

Assassins cannot thrive in chaos.

I take cover behind a crate and feel a barrage of arrows slam into it, but I can't reply because there are Stormcloaks on this side of the keep charging at me. I grit my teeth as a dozen blades converge on me, suck in a breath, and summon the power of the Thu'um within my blood. The dragon-tongue sings in my veins with addictive intensity, needing only the Voice to shape it, and I scream out the words of my intention - "Fus ro da!" The Shout picks up the Nords and hurls them off of the battlements, and I smile darkly as I hear bones snapping and the screams of dying men.

I draw back on my bow, rise from cover, and snap a shot off. A helmeted Stormcloak from across the fort is very surprised as the arrow leaps into his eye-slit and ends his life, but I can't savor the kill because everything is moving much, much too fast. The attack on both fronts is filled with blood and gore and screams, and I can't process all of it at once. I sling my bow over my shoulders and draw my knives, feeling the comfort of their hilts in my hands. I roll forward to avoid a trio of arrows and come up behind a Stormcloak archer taking aim at one of my men. A quick push of the shoulder sends him tumbling down to the battle below, where he lands on one of his fellows. Both die instantly.

Assassins do not thrive in chaos, because we require secrecy. Chaos makes secrecy irrelevant, puts all of your enemies out in the open. When 'do as thou wilt' is the only law, we wither and starve, a redundant service in a world where murder is only technically a crime. There is no secrecy on this battlefield, and it is no place for an assassin.

I take an arrow in the shoulder and the force knocks me back. I go with it, let it spin me to the ground, and tear it out roughly. It hurts and sends bright spots swimming in front of my eyes, but I can't have it stuck in me when I drink my potion. The healing brew is bitter and foul but it works, staunching the flow of my life's blood and filling me with vigor. I crawl a few feet before springing up and sprinting along the wall. The Stormcloak I'm running at thinks I'm charging him and raises his shield to receive me, but I spin around him and sink my knife into the back of his neck, and I feel the Blade of Woe drink his life. I grab him and use his armored body to absorb a few more arrows and grit my teeth in angry rage.

This is not what I am supposed to be doing, and these clumsy oafs may well be the death of me if I continue like this.

"Lucien, kill them," I order harshly, and the ghost forms at my side. I point at the archers on the battlements and he nods once, charging forward in utter silence. I hop off of the battlement onto a stack of crates and from there leap onto the back of a charging Stormcloak. Two knives descend into either side of his neck, and I literally tear his throat out. Blood flies across the snow and is then lost in the crimson already painted all over the ground.


* * * *

I am no stranger to the scent of death but this isn't it. Death is a small, quiet smell - a coppery tang, mixed with the smells of the body's last few convulsions. This is not death. This is slaughter, a charnel house just like the last two forts I helped take. I look at my cheering men, and then look away. Their barbarism disgusts me.

"Victory for the Empire, eh Jalrissa? Jal? Are you alright?"

"I need to report," I reply, not looking at whatever-his-name is. "Hail the Emperor."

As I walk away I hear his confused, "Hail the Emperor." He thinks I am his friend.

I am the Listener. I have many things - a family, a Mother, a Lord, wealth, power, and allies.

But I have no friends. Only allies, and tools. I have not hidden that fact from him, and his repeated attempts to be warm with me only confuse and frustrate me. I briefly consider killing him myself and weigh it against the oath I made to the General.

I sheathe my blade and keep walking away. I need to set a good example, even if no one that matters can see me. Assassins cannot thrive in chaos, and discipline starts at the top.

The night swallows me as I leave my men behind.

SleepyShadow
2012-04-25, 02:27 PM
*yawn* *stretch* *spine pops*

Right, new snippet. Fair warning: writing will consist of mostly pre-coffee brain functionality.


"Welcome to Hell"
Clarice's body ached. It felt like someone had mercilessly beaten her. Through the haze that clouded her mind she tried to remember what had happened to her, but the last thing she could recall was being attacked by three wolf-men. She could feel the icy rain on her skin, and something wrapped around her neck.

She slowly opened her eyes and saw that one end of a chain had been tied around her neck while the other was securely tied around the trunk of a nearby tree. Clarice looked around quickly, but saw that she was alone in the clearing. Painfully, she crawled beneath the leafy boughs of the tree she was chained to and hugged her knees to her chest.

"Naked, alone, and chained to a tree," she said to herself, shivering in the cold. "Clarice, what have you gotten yourself into?"

Suddenly, she heard the sound of something approaching through the brush. Clarice looked around desperately for a weapon of some kind, but could not even see a rock large enough to be useful. She clenched her fists tightly. Empty-handed, she would have to fend off whatever was coming for her. As soon as she saw movement, she reacted.

"Hatchling's Flame!" she shouted, blasting whatever was approaching with a cone of fire from the palm of her hand.

Clarice heard a scream of surprise, and a few moments later Shane stomped into the clearing looking quite singed. Close behind him were Ed and Fluffy.

"I've had it with your Tome of Battle crap!" the priest snarled. "You did more than enough of that yesterday."

"See? I told you she would still be hostile," Fluffy said smugly. "We should kill her."

"I didn't know it was you," Clarice said quickly. "I'm sorry, Shane."

"One more thing like that and I'll strangle you, got it?" Shane replied irritably.

"I don't understand. Why are you treating me like an enemy?" she asked nervously.

"She won't remember," Fluffy informed Shane. "She's afflicted, not natural. They suffer amnesia when they change."

"I'm still pissed," Shane grumbled. "She effectively took out all three of us by herself."

"What are you talking about? I wasn't even hurt," the tibbet argued.

"Why would she attack you?" the priest snapped. "You didn't do anything!"

"What, am I supposed to know that we're fighting stuff effectively immune to my swarms?"

"You could try doing something other than **** out cats."

"Preposterous!"

"Please," Clarice said softly, "what happened?"

"You turned into a doggie-girl and tried to eat our faces," Ed answered as best he could. "Face eating is rude, doggie-girl."

"Wh-what are you talking about?" Clarice stammered.

"Can we keep doggie-girl, Mister Fluffy?" Ed asked.

"You want to know what happened?" Fluffy asked Clarice. "I'll tell you everything. I relate all relevant information."

Clarice blinked in confusion, staring at the tibbet curiously. It seemed to take a moment for Fluffy to come to the realization that he had not told her anything. He scowled.

"Oh come on, you know what happened," he said angrily.

Clarice shook her head.

"Ugh, fine. You got separated from the group when we were traveling back from the hill ..."

"No, you three abandoned me when we were attacked by those monsters on the road," Clarice said firmly.

"Oh, you remember that?" Fluffy chuckled. "Anyway, they were werewolves. You got infected. You killed them, wolfed out, and proceeded to beat the crap out of the three of us when we came back."

"You must be joking," Clarice replied nervously.

"He's not," Shane answered bluntly. "That's why we chained you to the tree. Like a dog."

"By the way, we don't have time for your whole 'oh gods what have I become' speech," Fluffy said pointedly. "Assuming you aren't going to flip out in the daytime, we're heading for Castle Ravenloft."

"Hey, now I can call her a bitch and it will be appropriate," Shane chuckled as he turned to leave the clearing.

"I think you're right," Fluffy snickered, following the priest out of the clearing.

Ed approached Clarice and knelt down beside her, a friendly smile on his face.

"I have fixed your clothes so that you can wear them again," he told her. "I will get them for you, okay?"

"Ed, wait," Clarice said quickly, catching him by the sleeve before he could rise. "Am I ... am I really a monster?"

"Of course not," Ed replied. "You are a pretty lady who will catch a cold for not wearing anything in the rain. Fluffy told me that you are only doggie-girl at night-time."

Clarice's hand slipped away from Ed's sleeve, and the man rose to his feet. He patted her on the head, then turned and walked out of the clearing. Clarice stared after him for several long horror-struck moments. Eventually, she let her head fall against her knees and she began to weep bitterly.


***

"I love random encounters!" Fluffy declared excitedly.

"I thought you said you hated them," Shane replied quizzically.

"I love them when they give enough EXP to level us," the tibbet laughed.

Clarice tuned out the outlanders' nonsensical chatter as the group pressed on up the steep mountain trail. She was glad to be clothed and equipped once more, but she had enjoyed slaughtering the bandits far more than she felt comfortable with. The sight of their blood had stirred her in an unsettling way.

"Here bitch!" Shane called out, snapping her out of her musings. "Come!"

Clarice realized that she had fallen behind the rest of the group and hustled to catch up. She glared at Shane angrily.

"Good girl," Fluffy snickered. "Maybe later we'll play fetch with you."

The young woman immediately turned her harsh glare to the tibbet, who merely looked up at her smugly. She clenched her fists in an effort to restrain her pent-up anger. Fluffy and Shane had been poking fun at her all day, and she was quite fed up with it. She could not prevent an angry growl from escaping her lips. A sudden sharp pain hit the back of her head, and Clarice whirled around furiously.

"Bad girl," Shane said reproachfully, poking her in the chest with the stick he had hit her with. "Be nice to the cat."

With lightning speed Clarice grabbed Shane by the throat and slammed his back into the rock wall behind him. The priest struggled in vain to escape her iron grasp.

"Touch me again and I'll show you how much of a bad girl I can be," she snarled, tightening her vice-like grip on Shane's throat.

"Clarice, please let him go," Ed said quickly. "I will make them be nice to you, okay?"

The young woman dropped Shane to the ground, horrified at what she had almost done. Shane staggered to his feet as he gasped for air.

"I'm so sorry," Clarice said quietly as she quickly made her way up the trail ahead of the group, her cheeks burning with shame.

"Well someone is touchy today," Fluffy scoffed.


***

Strahd Von Zarovich watched from the shadows of the rafters as the four adventurers entered his palace. A priest of a foreign god, an imbecile with a spear, a talking cat, and Kolyan's adopted daughter. Zarovich had suspected that the unusual girl would one day be a problem ever since the mists had deposited the child in the village. She had grown up to be quite the fetching woman ... perhaps she should be kept. Strahd licked his lips in anticipation.

With a wave of his hand, the double doors behind the adventurers slammed shut. Zarovich watched gleefully as they spent several frantic moments trying to open the doors. Now that they had entered his home, there would be no escape. He unleashed a ray of black flame down upon the man with the spear, and the man screamed as the fire enveloped him. He collapsed to the ground.

"Ed!" Clarice cried out in panic, kneeling down beside the rogue's lifeless body.

"I apologize for my rude introduction," Zarovich said as he floated down to the ground in front of the adventurers. "I am Strahd Von Zarovich, master of Barovia and lord of the fine castle you intrude upon. Welcome to Hell."

Kaveman26
2012-04-25, 06:16 PM
This is from a more chaotic campaign we ran...

Gilpin Burrows enjoyed a good night at the pub. His small frame and hearty appetite meant we was an ideal drinking partner. His comrades were staged throughout the bar in a manner he was all too familiar with. It was hard not to sigh into his cups. Kyr their fighter was already pushing and shoving Corwin their barbarian. With barely a glance he saw Caramis their illusionist already waiting at the base of the roulette table, a bag of holding open and ready. As Kyr threw the first punch at Corwin he braced for impact and within moments a 250lb angry half orc barreled into him spilling his drink. With feigned anger he snatched a sling stone and hurled it at the fighter's head.

"Pick on someone half your size dimwit!"

With a roar Kyr grabbed Gilpin and dragged him across the bar spilling drinks and causing mayhem, then with a wordless growl he flung the tiny halfling across the roulette table. Gilpin stretched his arms as far as they could go and acted as a rake for all the table stakes. Into the bag he went and for the next ten minutes all he knew was darkness.

There was always a moment of doubt when the light returned. Someday Gilpin feared that Sundrael, their bard would not be the one standing above the bag, but a city guard. This time fate smiled upon them once again as Sundrael's graceful features smiled upon him.

"Caramis locked up?" he asked

"Of course" Sundrael replied " the moment you landed in the bag he sprinted from the bar with his robes aflame and the watch snatched him up. They were quite angered when all seven of the bags of holding he carried were void of the bar's tokens and the patrons money. I suppose we can extract at least another thousand for wrongful imprisonment and unnessecary search."

Gilpin laughed as always. "The best part of a shell game, is not having a shell. Just make the bag invisible and guards will go after the runner, not the elf sipping wine at the table right?"

Sundrael smiled even the wider "They do rarely pay attention to me, its almost dissapointing.

JonRG
2012-04-30, 10:14 PM
@LordGareth: I haven't played Skyrim yet, but now I really, really want to. :smallbiggrin: Jalrissa is one heck of a lady. (I assume that's a lady just because of the -issa, but I could be wrong.)

Anyway, this is the first snippet I've managed to produce in a while.

Good Hunting
The King's Other Castle. It was such a ridiculous name for a tavern, yet Karlen drew crowds all the same. Velveteen seats, gold plated fixtures, and other little touches made it easy for folks to forget their ordinary lives. They were just here to relax. Except for Aztra at the bar, who hiked up her skirts and slid two pins in her hair. It was time to go to work. Her seasoned gaze scanned the crowd, eliminating potential marks with each pass.

The first to be granted serious consideration was a corpulent noble. His clothes were slovenly, and he had unwisely kept his long locks despite a very receded hairline. Even more atrocious than his fashion sense were his table manners. The sot could barely keep food in his mouth, and sauce dribbled down his chins. Imagine what he would be like with a woman... Aztra shuddered. Pass. Even if he hadn't shoved every spare cent down his throat, overweight men tended to be less receptive to her... gifts. Her hand twitched to check her hairpins, which were still secured. Good. Moving on.

The next man was certainly easier on the eyes. Strong features, impeccably dressed, surrounded by a gaggle of adoring fans, he looked every bit the merchant prince... but that was as far as it went. His suit was barely worn, and his stories about the finance world were months out of date. It was all a ploy to bed some beautiful albeit stupid ladies. His coin purse probably bulged with coppers. Pass. He'd probably lose her money. She briefly contemplated revealing his deception, but decided against it. After all, the more women drawn to his table, the less competition there was for her. Play on, little amateur. Let's hope Lord Harlden doesn't hear about you wooing his daughter.

Her third option was a rugged sort of fellow who stared at the table while his companions caroused around him. His kindly face was dotted with scars, no doubt with a heroic tale behind each one. Aztra could almost smell the musk of his armor. She rose from her stool only to sit back down abruptly. Her new vantage had revealed the object of her target's attentions; his wedding band. Indeed, there was some internal struggle churning in the lad's gut. It would take ages to woo a man like that, assuming his friends didn't step in. Regrettably... Pass.

The fourth candidate was so perfect, Aztra wondered how she had missed him before. Tucked away in the corner, the young man wore the outfit of a clerk in the Royal Administration. Perfect. Today was payday. Best of all, there was this... fragility to him. He'd even stuck his nose in a book to avoid any unprompted conversation. If she could talk to him without arousing any suspicion, the poor little virgin would be putty in her hands. Aztra slapped her palm against the bar. Karlen set two glasses of wine before her with a mutter of, "Good hunting." She twirled off towards the back with a smirk on her face.

"Joran? Joran?" Aztra called. Tears welled up in her eyes. The clerk slowly set down his book. No one could resist a damsel in distress, even a poorly-lit one.

"Something wrong, ma'am?" he asked. His voice was smooth, charming even.

"I went to go get me and my beau a drink, he's run off without me!" She set her glasses on the table and slid into the booth. The young man opened his mouth, but Aztra interrupted, "I'm Rahela, by the way."

"... Cyric..."

She slid a glass of wine his way and raised her own. "To new friends, then?"

"Uh..." Whatever protests he had died upon his first good look at Aztra. "To new friends."

**********************

It had taken another glass, but Cyric finally seemed to be enjoying himself. A scribe in the Royal Financier's office, he was supposed to meet some colleagues who never arrived. Aztra suppressed a smirk. They would be here tomorrow, just like every month. Oh well. Their loss. She rose shakily to her feet, and before she could take one unsteady step-

"C-can I walk you home?" Cyric asked.

Aztra laughed. How predictably sweet. "Actually, I'm staying right here. I've never been to the capital before. 's why I was so upset, when Joran disappeared." She could see the disappointment creep into his features. "But! That's no reason you can't!" She leaned heavily on Cyric's shoulder, and he guided her towards the stairs. Karlen threw her a wink as the duo stumbled down the hall. "This's it." Aztra unlocked the door with one hand and reached for her hairpins with the other, pulling them out with a flourish. A small groan indicated her success. "Omigosh, I'm so sorry. Did I stick you?"

"I-It's nothing." Cyric winced, clutching at his upper thigh.

"Here, lie down on the bed." He hobbled over to the mattress and gently eased himself onto it. Aztra sat next to him, checking the time. They were well ahead of schedule. Ample time to reward a job well done. Besides, he was pretty cute. She pressed her lips against his and felt herself go weak in the knees.

Not just the knees. Her entire body. "Damn," she thought. "Did I manage to stick myself too?"

"No dearest," Cyric replied, and there was an edge to his voice. "You're actually one of the better mortal poisoners I've met." Aztra got a rough kiss in return. A mindreader? Mortal? Gods, what was this man? He breathed a response into her ear, but she never heard it.

Vaalfar laughed as he shoved the woman aside. What a rush! His arousal had little to do with appearances, though she had been quite lovely. No, he'd witnessed that primal fear in her eyes, the realization that she was his prey rather than the other way around. What was supposed to be an ordinary hunt had completely turned his night around. The arrogant, lower-class grifter made for excellent fare. Who'd have thought? "You know..." he mused aloud. "Were it me, I'd have gone for the hero. He was actually separated. Ah well. Live and learn." Vaalfar cast an eye over her corpse and chuckled. "Figuratively speaking."

**********************

A red sun rose over The King's Other Palace, and the bartender pounded on a door with his meaty fist. "Az! It's Len! Open up!" When no response came, Karlen reached for his own key. "Damn, woman. Are you still asleep?" He shoved the door open. "Not trying to cut me out, are ya... Oh gods!" Aztra lay sprawled across the bed, the color drained from her skin. Don't panic. First things first.

The money.

It took Karlen a few minutes to ferret the late Aztra's savings out of their various hiding places. It had been nearly two hundred platinum, enough to keep the inn running the rest of the season. "Thanks Az," he thought as he wrapped her up in a sheet. Then, the bartender plodded his way down the empty halls. "No, officers. I don't know where she went. Shame though. One of my best waitresses. Never a nicer girl than that one." Karlen finally reached the cellar and started to dig. [I]"Sorry, Az. Can't have you shuttin' me down."

Tavar
2012-04-30, 10:48 PM
New Exalted Snippet, this time Involving Sidereals.


He is standing on the balcony, overlooking the grand cityscape of Heaven laid out before him. Glorious and horrifying in equal measures. It reminds him of one of his few trips to Malfeas, though he'd never actually speak that. Too risky politically, never mind the potential threat if they thought him an Infernal.

So he wait, arms resting on the railing, and reflects. Not on what he's actually seeing, but on what brought him here. To his present circumstances.

He was one of the lucky ones, or so they say. With so much to do, and so much chaos, potential Sidereals aren't found till a scant few years before they exalt, a few even exalting before that. And some aren't found at all, dying through some random act. Maidens, but one relatively recent Chosen of Endings survived fighting in that whole Bull of the North Debacle.

A twinge of guilt there. It has seemed like such a rational and easy task: the house legions were getting too strong, and so the Empress wanted them blunted without showing her hand. Reasonable, and quite within Heaven's abilities, what with the Bull just starting his rise. So the legions were sent, and the Sidereals hampered them, Child among them. Then everything happened at once. The Empress dissapeared. The other houses, seeing Tepet vulnerable, pounced, and the Bull proved more powerful than thought. Next thing you know the Tepet legions are destroyed completely, not blunted. A huge political shake up in the Realm, only overshadowed by the Empress's disappearance.

Few really care about the thousands dead, on both sides of the fight. Even fewer about the Sidereals caught in the crossfire. Child does, though. It's one thing to have people die in order to save the world: Child's hands have more than enough blood on them from those, but they don't bother him. Not in the same way. But this, those men, they died for nothing, and Child helped kill them.

Before, he had been a rising star in the Bronze faction. The gold were hopeless dreamers and fanatics, after all. The Bronze had a plan, a method. They had kept Creation running for over a thousand years, and would do it for a thousand more. The campaign against the Bull changed that. He didn't turn to one of those brain dead Gold fanatics, but he couldn't trust the Bronze faction either. The Realm without the Empress was nothing, and no one lasts forever. And yet, no one had set up contingencies. There was no plan, just mad dash solutions to paper over the problem.

So he worked, doing his duties to the Bureau, but staying away from both parties. And he watched the world fall apart. Thorns. The Silver Prince. The Realm continuing it's slow crumble to Civil War and oblivion. The Solars and Lunars, back in force for the first time in memory. Every day it became more clear that if the Bronze faction ever had a plan, it wasn't valid any more.

"Brillant Boy's getting called into the headmasters office? Quick, someone make sure the Yozi are still in Hell."

A little start. He hadn't realized he was that out of it, for Starfall to sneak up on him. The little teasing does get him to relax, though. Turning, Child makes a little tossing motion as he chuckles.

"Hah. The only time I get called into her office is when I'm cleaning up after one of your messes. I have an appointment. Though, with you up here, maybe I'll be called in anyways...."

"You wound me," holding his hands over his heart, Starfall steps back, fake consternation on his face as he says the words, before dropping the smile as his eyes grow serious. "Honestly, though, I've been hearing rumors-"

"I'm fine. Just taking a sabbatical."

Starfall's jaw drops, and the balcony is silent for a long moment.

"You, Mr Work-A-Holic. Mr Didn't leave His Office for 3 days straight. You put in for leave?"

Slightly embarressed, Child rubs the back of his head. "Well, yeah. I guess I finally decided that I needed some time off. Hell, my hair's going grey, and I'm barely in my 5th decade."

Clasping Child's shoulder, Starfall gives a true smile. "Good for you. You've been working to hard, time to relax a little. Plus, now I know why the note that called me here was so happy."

"Oh?" The door to the office opens, a secretary god motioning for them to go in.

"Ayesha won the pool on when you'd finally give in."

Lord_Gareth
2012-04-30, 11:41 PM
@LordGareth: I haven't played Skyrim yet, but now I really, really want to. Jalrissa is one heck of a lady. (I assume that's a lady just because of the -issa, but I could be wrong.)

Warning: Massive, massive liberties were taken with the portrayal of the combat and with NPC dialogue. That being said, the game is still fun as all hell.

Jal is, indeed, a lady. Any thoughts on who she is as a person? Any thoughts on the writing itself (strong/weak points)?

JonRG
2012-05-01, 08:25 AM
Apologies. I kept my initial comments brief, because I wanted to post before the site spazzed again and I got too nervous to do it at all. Some more robust commentary.




His name starts with an 'H', I remember that much, but I wasn't paying much attention when I first met him and I've developed nothing but contempt for him since. I vaguely hope he dies so I can stop having to listen to him.

I love this bit. It's funny and, right away, it gives a good sense of Jal's character.


Stealth. Finally, an Imperial who speaks my language. A ghost of a smile crosses my lips, making the man in front of me laugh lightly.

"Are you ever going to wear your uniform, Jalrissa? All that black makes you look like some kind of assassin."

The ghost of a smile broadens, "All the better to make those Stormcloaks fear me then, eh?"

Something about the idea of the ghost of a smile broadening bothers me, but it's a very small bother that's easy to put aside.


--snipped for awesome dreams--

Very nicely done. I'm making a note of this next time I try to write dreams or flashbacks.


The stars twinkle at me from the clear sky above. Damn, I'd been hoping for some cloud cover for this.

I enjoy these little observations. They really efficiently deliver insight about the character.


"I trust you to do your job. Trust me to do mine," I say quietly as I get up into a low crouch. I stretch a little, staring at him with a flat expression, "An Imperial's idea of stealth is not blowing the horn before you fire the catapults, so I'm not about to take your advice on it."

I'm not sure if that bit was your own invention or something from the game, but it was beautiful regardless.


I slip out of the grate tunnel and land silently on the stone floor, glad it isn't wood but cursing the fool that didn't include wood. Wood makes noise, helps you detect intruders. Whoever this architect was, I hope Sithis is tormenting him eternally.

Just to double-check, Jal is upset because she's taking this fort and architectural failings directly impact the Empire's success in holding it, right? Otherwise, I am exceedingly confused. Also, you repeat the word wood a lot. Maybe “glad it isn't wood, but cursing the fool that didn't think to include any”?


I grit my teeth as a dozen blades converge on me, suck in a breath, and summon the power of the Thu'um within my blood. The dragon-tongue sings in my veins with addictive intensity, needing only the Voice to shape it, and I scream out the words of my intention - "Fus ro da!" The Shout picks up the Nords and hurls them off of the battlements, and I smile darkly as I hear bones snapping and the screams of dying men.

*squee* You said the thing from the game! Okay, I'm done now. :smalltongue: But yeah, this is the sort of writing that makes me want to have the dollars for Skyrim.


Assassins do not thrive in chaos, because we require secrecy. Chaos makes secrecy irrelevant, puts all of your enemies out in the open. When 'do as thou wilt' is the only law, we wither and starve, a redundant service in a world where murder is only technically a crime. There is no secrecy on this battlefield, and it is no place for an assassin.

Well put, and a refreshing diversion from the more typical bloodthirsty, anarchical sort of assassin.


The healing brew is bitter and foul but it works, staunching the flow of my life's blood and filling me with vigor. I crawl a few feet before springing up and sprinting along the wall. The Stormcloak I'm running at thinks I'm charging him and raises his shield to receive me, but I spin around him and sink my knife into the back of his neck, and I feel the Blade of Woe drink his life. I grab him and use his armored body to absorb a few more arrows and grit my teeth in angry rage.

This is not what I am supposed to be doing, and these clumsy oafs may well be the death of me if I continue like this.

"Lucien, kill them," I order harshly, and the ghost forms at my side. I point at the archers on the battlements and he nods once, charging forward in utter silence.

Good description of the healing potion. Apparently Skyrim folks don't gussy that stuff up. I have no idea why Jal has a ghost, but it's awesome, so doesn't really matter.


I am no stranger to the scent of death but this isn't it. Death is a small, quiet smell - a coppery tang, mixed with the smells of the body's last few convulsions. This is not death. This is slaughter, a charnel house just like the last two forts I helped take. I look at my cheering men, and then look away. Their barbarism disgusts me.

So is she upset because they butchered everyone in a distinctly unassassin like manner or because they're so darned happy about it?


"Victory for the Empire, eh Jalrissa? Jal? Are you alright?"

"I need to report," I reply, not looking at whatever-his-name is. "Hail the Emperor."

As I walk away I hear his confused, "Hail the Emperor." He thinks I am his friend.

Good interaction between these two. Even without directly saying so, you can tell H is trying to be friendly because he calls her by a nickname.

All told, Jal strikes me as a very well-developed, natural character for the world she inhabits. You don't just label her an assassin and let those associations carry the work. In fact, she seems to be a lot more of a solider than some of the barbarians who serve under her. The characterization is spot on, the combat feels varied each time Jal snuffs a dude out, and my reaction half the time to a unknown term or phenomenon was, “Not entirely sure what's going on, but who cares? This is awesome.” :smallbiggrin:

Dr Bwaa
2012-05-01, 08:53 AM
Sorry to everyone for getting behind on comments! I meant to catch up this weekend, but alas, it was not to be. Never fear; they are forthcoming!

Winds
2012-05-04, 11:48 AM
Nice work turning Skyrim into a snippet. Well written and snappy.


Anyway...

Working for (then siding against) a mad god

These people are all mad.

We asked what seems to be the only sane member of the 'command squad' to explain what's happening. James Morran is what's called the 'Lord Commissar' of the empire. Second in command to Ian Moone, who was a warlord when they met.

That was before they killed the boss of their city-state, wiped out the only actual nation they knew of, and took it over, with Ian declaring himself the God-Emperor.

And now we're part of that empire, apparently. They're sending us as the first wave against a town they didn't participate in the draft. We are to take out whatever air defenses they have. I hope Elle knows what that means.

__________________________________________________ _________________________________

It was a moot point. They didn't have defenses of any sort.

How is it that these people took over and rebuilt a nation without knowing about pacifists?

We spoke to the inhabitants. They refused the draft on principle. When we explained what was happening, they sent an envoy. With the attack about to begin, he ran as hard as he could.

We got clear as well. There was nothing else we could do. The envoy was shot on sight, the town was destroyed.

I could do -nothing-. My soul bound to hell for power I couldn't use. What a sick joke.

But...that's not what James signed up for, either.

He chose to help found the nation...and now he plans to kill Ian.

Maybe he's just as bad. His followers seem to be buying into the idea of being heretics too much. But...better him than a evil deity. Hopefully.

Lord_Gareth
2012-05-04, 12:00 PM
Sorry to everyone for getting behind on comments! I meant to catch up this weekend, but alas, it was not to be. Never fear; they are forthcoming!

WELL HOW DARE YOU!

Says the guy with the gigantic unpaid comment backlog with no intention of working on it in the foreseeable future.

Dr Bwaa
2012-05-07, 12:28 PM
I think this is everybody; let me know if I missed you.

Also any comments on my last couple snippets? Since the next one isn't going to be ready for a little while because I'm slow?

@Gareth

speaking to a man many would kill for just to get a chance to meet.

The "for" is unneeded/redundant/awkward here.


I am here to kill him, and I am very surprised that he seems intent on letting me

This sentence, however, ends too quickly for my liking; I had to reread it to be sure I knew what was going on. Not the biggest problem in the world, but when you're in the middle of a flowing dream montage you want to avoid that sort of thing. "...intent on letting me do so" would make this much clearer. Otherwise, this dream sequence is great.


wood, wood, wood

As Nyarai mentioned, you say it a three times in two sentences.


My arrow pins the apple to the inside of his mouth, half-bitten and bleeding juice.

This is great.


I bent the tip. Damn. That's going to take forever to fix.

This was pretty unexpected. The cadence change doesn't bother me, but I had to go back and reread the paragraph before to understand why that might have happened (still not completely clear how you break your knife in someone's eye). If he's literally driving the blade pretty much full-length through this guy's skull, I'd mention that before this line.


I take an arrow in the shoulder and the force knocks me back. I go with it, let it spin me to the ground, and tear it out roughly. It hurts and sends bright spots swimming in front of my eyes, but I can't have it stuck in me when I drink my potion.

This is good stuff. "Hurts" is a little weak though.


I sheathe my blade and keep walking away. I need to set a good example, even if no one that matters can see me. Assassins cannot thrive in chaos, and discipline starts at the top.

Very, very nice.

Overally I liked this snippet a lot. Honestly the only thing that I felt was a little out of place was the Shout; it seemed almost like you only put in the actual words to say "hey readers this is skyrim!" Otherwise, Jalrissa's characterization (everyone's, really) is great; it really comes together well at the end when she's ended up fighting people hand-to-hand and complaining that it's not what she's "supposed to be doing". As always, your handling of a chaotic battle scene is inspiring.

@SleepyShadow
Yay more Clarice!


It felt like someone had mercilessly beaten her.

I expected this to be the setup for a joke ("Then she realized that the last thing she remembered was being beaten. Mercilessly.") As it isn't, the sentence falls a little flat--a little too much exposition without description, (ie. what did she feel?), or maybe because you're using a truthful simile (ie. there's weirdness because she was beaten, nearly to death. "It felt like she'd fallen out of an airship" would be a more enlightening comparison).


"I've had it with your Tome of Battle crap!"

Heheheheh. Also I don't think I've mentioned this before; I love that she yells the names of her maneuvers.


"You could try doing something other than **** out cats."

"Preposterous!"

God I love your party.


"You turned into a doggie-girl and tried to eat our faces," Ed answered as best he could. "Face eating is rude, doggie-girl."

...oh god. :smalleek: For someone with a tragically low INT, Ed sure does care about etiquette :smallbiggrin:


--Fluffy/Clarice "exposition" conversation--

Ahahahahahahaha.


Clarice's hand slipped away from Ed's sleeve, and the man rose to his feet. He patted her on the head, then turned and walked out of the clearing. Clarice stared after him for several long horror-struck moments. Eventually, she let her head fall against her knees and she began to weep bitterly.

Can't tell whether to d'awwwww or D:


"I'm so sorry," Clarice said quietly as she quickly made her way up the trail ahead of the group, her cheeks burning with shame.

This is a great moment. Also, I'm surprised Shane & Fluffy haven't made some comment about her new level adjustment yet :smallbiggrin:


--session ending--

Oh, Strahd von Zarovich is great. Great great great. Also, poor Ed. For a rogue, he's pretty terrible at staying out of harm's way.

Very fun snippet as usual. I like seeing more real interaction between the party; Shane/Fluffy's abuse of Clarice and Ed's pretecting everyone while Clarice struggles with her new bloodlust are all very well done. I hope that magic sword is pretty great, because otherwise I'm not seeing much of a way out of way out for our intrepid heroes!

@Kaveman26

Kyr their fighter ~ Corwin their barbarian ~ Caramis their illusionist

Rather than drop these titles so explicitly, why not let their actions show what they are? Especially when you've got people like a barbarian and illusionist--these positions should be exceedingly easy (and fun) to show the reader without stating it outright.


spilling drinks and causing mayhem

Same thing here; "spilling drinks" is good but then "causing mayhem" lacks any real descriptive power. Replacing this with another example of the sorts of destruction occurring would make the scene more vivid.


I suppose we can extract at least another thousand for wrongful imprisonment and unnessecary search.

This is a great line, and a good reveal of the party's plan.

Overall, very nice first snippet! There are a couple typos here and there, but nothing world-shattering. This party is certainly entertaining; I look forward to more!


@Nyarai

The King's Other Castle. It was such a ridiculous fantastic name for a tavern

Fixed that for you.


His clothes were slovenly, and he had unwisely kept his long locks despite a very receded hairline. Even more atrocious than his fashion sense were his table manners. The sot could barely keep food in his mouth, and sauce dribbled down his chins.

::shudder:: This is a great description; love the details (though I believe slovenly is generally used to describe people, rather than things).


"No dearest," Cyric replied, and there was an edge to his voice. "You're actually one of the better mortal poisoners I've met."

You know, I was worried about this guy the moment he gave his name...


Vaalfar laughed as he shoved the woman aside.

Wait what? Who is Vaalfar? I had assumed this was actually Cyric (http://forgottenrealms.wikia.com/wiki/Cyric), randomly messing with some mortals. Is Vaalfar an agent of his, or is the name just coincidence. Suddenly I understand nothing.


"Ah well. Live and learn." Vaalfar cast an eye over her corpse and chuckled. "Figuratively speaking."

Awesome. :smallbiggrin:

Great first snippet! The last line left me a touch confused (what stories?), but overally this was great. I really enjoyed the voice & the language, and the pacing was excellent. Many more to come, I hope?


@Tavar

Maidens, but one relatively recent Chosen of Endings survived fighting in that whole Bull of the North Debacle.

It might be my lack of Exalted knowledge getting the better of me here, but I can't make heads or tails of this sentence. Otherwise, this is a very nice slice-of-life/flashback snippet; I'd love to see more from this story. I really like some of the things you've done with the descriptions of Heaven, both politically and physically. The final conversation starts a little abruptly, which is perfect for the scene, and I love the ending line :smallbiggrin:


@Winds

These people are all mad.

Coming from a typical D&D adventurer who later in the same snippet admits that he damned himself in return for mortal power--great opening line. And completely reasonable from his standpoint, of course.


We are to take out whatever air defenses they have. I hope Elle knows what that means.

Heh. Good reminder here.


How is it that these people took over and rebuilt a nation without knowing about pacifists?

Good question.

Fun snippet; it seems a little departed from the more recent ones in terms of content--a little less detailed, I think, since you're covering so much. I would have liked to see some of the other party members' reactions to this situation (admittedly a little difficult because of the journal-entry format). Uh... good luck against the God-Emperor?

Tavar
2012-05-07, 01:18 PM
Ah, yeah, it's probably a lack of setting knowledge. The Maidens are 5 of the most powerful gods in the setting, part of the Incarna which rules heaven. They are representations of fate. In this case, it's basically using their collective name in place of 'gods' or whatever. Essentially, very weak curse.

In exalted, when someone is referred to as capital C Chosen of X, it means they're exalted, with the X referring to their patron. Chosen of Endings means the character in question is a Sidereal, and more specifically the Chosen of Saturn, the Maiden of Endings. Her purview is, well, endings.

The Bull of the North is a major in setting character. Some years before the normal start of the game, setting wise, he Exalted as a Solar, one of the strongest types of Exalts. Now, normally he'd be hunted down, as the most powerful religion in the world says that non-Dragonblooded(elemental based Exalts) are evil demons possessing people, most especially the Solars. So he starts gathering the tribes of his people, and basically starts pulling a Genghis Khan.

But the Bull exalted far from the centers of power, and so had some time to grow in strength. Then, due to politics, the legions the Realm(most powerful nation, and who's state religion is the aforementioned one), were internally sabotaged, as they belonged to a noble house that was getting too powerful. Unfortunately, the Head of State disappeared while this was going on, and the other houses say this as an opportunity to further lame the house in question. This combined with the Bull being stronger than though lead to the complete destruction of the house's legions, instead of simply humbling them. Furthermore, now the Realm can't effectively strike at the Bull, as it's primary offensive weapon besides the Legions relied on the Head of State.

Also, the Sidereals were involved in the Bull of the North campaign, and several died in the process. Normally, for exalted, this isn't a problem: the exaltations just go and chose someone else. But Sidereal Exaltations, for a variety of reasons, take about 20 years to go through this process, and the Sidereal Exalted are fewer in number and more overworked than any other type. So, the guy in question is calling it a Debacle.

So, yeah, tons of setting stuff involved in that sentence.

JonRG
2012-05-08, 12:58 PM
The reaction of the narrator (who's sort of chilling in Aztra's skull without making this 1st person) represents my initial reaction to the name when I saw it. "Ugh, that is the dumbest name ever." *REJECTED* But eventually, the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was in fact the GREATEST name. It has forever replaced "The Roaming Knight" as my go-to inn name.

Cyric and Vaalfar are the same person. Erm, incubus. :smalltongue: The bit about the 'stories' was just supposed to be a drawback to the name of the tavern and imply some generically unsavory deeds by the lords of this land. Any advice on edits I can make to clarify those two points? I've been writing for a long time without sharing, so there tends to be great swaths of information I think is obvious that may not be so.

Glad you liked it, lh4K. I shall definitely have to post more. :smallbiggrin:

SleepyShadow
2012-05-08, 02:19 PM
Never again will I doubt the ingenuity of a rules-lawyer with an imagination. :smallannoyed:


The River Runs at 18 Gallons Per Round
Clarice rose to her feet, her shoulders shaking with rage. She glared at Strahd Von Zarovich, who merely smirked back at her.

"You killed him!" Clarice shouted as she fought back tears. "You killed Ed! The one person here I considered a friend!"

"Why do we never get character development?" Shane asked Fluffy.

"I'm Mr. Fluffy the Cat God," the tibbet replied. "Who needs more development than that?"

"Maybe it's because you two are insensitive jerks to the NPCs," Ed's corpse suggested.

"Hush, you're dead and undermining Clarice's angry speech," Zarovich said reproachfully.

"Oh right, sorry," the corpse said before resuming death.

Clarice glanced at Shane and Fluffy for confirmation, and they motioned for her to continue. She nodded and turned her steely gaze back to Zarovich.

"I will make you pay for what you've done," Clarice said firmly as she drew her sword. "Pay for what you did to Ed, what you've done to me, and for what you've done to all the people of Barovia!"

"Wait!" Fluffy said quickly. "My turn first."

Fluffy cackled maniacally, and the room was suddenly filled with mangy tabby cats. Shane, Clarice, and Zarovich all stared at the tibbet as his laughter faded away.

"Cats?" Zarovich scoffed. "Really?"

"Did you forget already?" Shane grumbled. "Vampires have DR ..."

"It is only stage one of my brilliant plan!" Fluffy declared. "Now his black clothing will be completely ruined by the shedding of many cats, and he will run off and cry his makeup off!"

"Or I will just kill all three of you," Zarovich replied with a smirk.

"Oh, you are a non-sparkly vampire?" Fluffy asked sheepishly.

"Correct."

"&$@% my life ..."

Clarice shifted her footing and leveled her sword with Zarovich's chest. She glared at him defiantly.

"Stance of Clarity," she muttered. "You cannot go unpunished."

She lunged forward with a mighty cry, ignoring the biting and scratching of the cats around her legs. She leaped up, her sword poised above her head.

"Mountain Hammer!" she called out as her blade struck down in a deadly arc.

Zarovich stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack. The sword smashed into the floor, sending bits of marble tile and bits of cat flying in all directions. Strahd struck at her with his long wicked claws, but the young woman retaliated faster than the vampire could react to.

"Feigned Opening!" she cried as she swung upward, catching Zarovich in the ribs with her sword.

"It's like watching bad anime ..." Fluffy grumbled.

"It's like watching good anime," Shane argued.

"Your opinion is invalid. You like Naruto."

"It has a good story if you skip the filler."

"Shut up and take your turn."

Shane acquiesced and aimed the palm of his hand at Strahd. A massive jet of icy water sprayed forth from his hand, drenching the vampire, Clarice, and dozens of cats. Clarice coughed and spluttered as she cast her eyes toward Shane in confusion. Both she and Zarovich were thoroughly soaked.

"What was that?" Strahd grumbled as he swept a lock of dripping hair out of his face.

"Vampires lose one-third of their health for immersion in water," Shane explained. "I just sprayed you with eighteen gallons of water in under six seconds. I'm pretty sure getting sprayed with what amounts to a riot hose of magic water counts as immersion."

Strahd Von Zarovich sighed exasperatedly, then let out a shriek of agony as his skin began to steam and burn. Fluffy cackled victoriously.

"I told you it would work," the tibbet said to Shane. "I skip my turn."

Clarice wiped the water from her eyes as she looked at the equally wet vampire. The constant biting and scratching from the cats was growing increasingly painful. She wondered if perhaps this was Fluffy's way of punishing her. She worked through the pain and struck at Zarovich again.

"Emerald Razor!" Clarice cried out; her blade flashed green for a moment as it cut across Strahd's chest.

The vampire hissed in pain, but still he retaliated. He drove his knee into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her. As she doubled over in pain Zarovich raked his claws across her back, his black talons tearing through her armor as if it were paper. She cried out and staggered away from him, leaning on her sword for support. Strahd smiled wickedly, but his smile quickly turned into an irritated frown as he was blasted by another jet of icy water.

"You giving up yet, Zarovich?" Shane asked with a laugh.

"Noob vampire focusing the tank," Fluffy snickered. "I skip my turn."

The swarm of mangy cats continued its relentless assault on Clarice, and this time she could not hold back a whimper of pain. She could feel the tibbet's eyes on her, and she knew he was trying to kill her.

I don't understand, she thought. Why does he hate me so much?

The pain of the swarm coupled with her own dark thoughts distracted her long enough for Zarovich to close in on her. He grabbed Clarice by the wrist and throat, twisting her arm until she dropped her sword. She struggled valiantly, but could not escape his inhuman strength. Another blast of water suddenly drenched both combatants, and Clarice was hurled to the ground as Zarovich exploded in a massive ball of steam. Nothing remained of his body save for a few wispy vapors, and those soon dissipated away.

"Vampires are so easy to kill," Fluffy chuckled as he at last dismissed his swarm.

"Whoo! Time to loot the castle!" Shane declared. "Think we'll run into any more battles?"

"Oh, I'm sure we will," Fluffy replied. "Luckily I only used one spell that fight, and you're down only a few orisons."

"I guess I need to heal up Clarice," Shane said grudgingly.

"No," Clarice said as she slowly regained her feet. "Save your healing for yourself."

"Are you sure?" Shane asked. "You're really hurt."

"I'm sure," Clarice replied with a wane smile. "You two enjoy yourselves plundering the castle."

"Where are you going?" Fluffy questioned suspiciously.

"I've done what I set out to do, thanks to your help," Clarice answered as she sheathed her sword. "Strahd has finally been destroyed, and that's reward enough for me. I'm going home."


***

It had been months since Clarice had last seen the outlanders. Things had returned to normal in Barovia Village, in some ways better than normal. Wolves no longer prowled the outskirts of the village, the townsfolk were no longer afraid to venture out at night, and the fog and rain that permeated the area had given way to pleasant sunshine and beautiful moonlight.

Of course, Clarice could not enjoy the moonlight. Every full moon she locked herself in her cellar to prevent herself from causing harm to anyone. However, a few days ago she had received a letter from the famed doctor Rudolph Van Richten. The letter had said that he could cure her affliction of lycanthropy so long as she had not tasted the blood of another human. Naturally, she accepted his offer.

It was dark and raining the night that he was to arrive. Clarice thought little of the weather, however. She longed to be free of her curse. She paced back and forth anxiously, praying to every god and goddess she knew of that Van Richten's cure would work.

A knock on her door broke her worried thoughts. Clarice rushed to the front door and pulled it open. A tall man stood on her doorstep. The leather cloak he wore to protect himself from the icy rain concealed all put his pointed chin and muddy boots.

"Doctor Van Richten?" Clarice asked.

The figure nodded solemnly.

"Come on inside," the young woman said with a smile. "Let's get you out of the rain."

The man stepped inside quickly and closed the door behind him. Clarice walked over to the fireplace where a small kettle hissed over the warm fire.

"I've got some tea here if you like," Clarice offered as she carefully removed the kettle.

"I prefer a different drink, Clarice," the man replied in an all-too familiar voice.

The young woman spun around with a gasp of terror as Strahd Von Zarovich tore away his cloak with a wicked smile. The kettle slipped from Clarice's hand as she backed away from the approaching vampire.

"Did you think a little water would kill me, Clarice?" Strahd asked, laughing mirthlessly. "Foolish girl."

Clarice turned and ran toward her bedroom, hoping to get her sword. Zarovich was faster, however, and grabbed her from behind before she could even reach the door. She struggled in vain against his grasp as he pinned her against his chest. She shuddered as the vampire ran his thumb along her bare neck.

"Clarice," Zarovich hissed in her ear, "it's time to put your blade to work."

Winds
2012-05-09, 06:58 PM
I dunno, the running water thing works for me. Were I DM, I would have let it pass if he were trying to block the vamp of. On the other hand, the running water thing has a great deal more to it than water, so you couldn't expect the same thing. I love that your vamp thought of that. :smallamused:


We kill a mad god (twice)

Again with being conscripted. What is with these people, and how did they not have a coup sooner?

James' army calls themselves 'chaos' for some reason. I don't get it, but I'm not going to argue with an army of warriors twice my size in spiked armor...

In any case...the capital broke into a civil war. We played both sides as long as we could. It didn't work out that well.

I really hate guns.

In any case, we found the fight between Ian and James and leapt into the fray. The guy was really tough. It took longer to kill him than it took to kill most dragons. My blasts, Logrim and Kaldrig slicing at him, Elle with her gun, James with a two-handed gun of some kind...

He finally fell, and we were returned to the main room of the tower. Going through the final door, we found ourselves in that desert, save that the sword and pedestal were there. A younger version of that madman guarded it. He apparently got the idea to call himself God-Emperor from us. My head hurts.

Again.

He challenged us to single combat. He was no real challenge...in this form, he wasn't a match for even one of us. I wonder how he got so strong... Meanwhile, Neeshka grabbed the sword and brought down the tower. She also grabbed Ian's gun, which is bigger than the ones the HPD gave us before. She almost shot us by mistake before Elle took it off her with promises of teaching her to use it.

I *hate* guns.


So apparently a paradox won't end the world. Unless it did end that world. Which would mean...

...Nevermind, I don't want to dwell on it.


And wizards think my powers are messed-up.

Though...James' performance was weaker than it would have been had the DM asked for a copy of the character sheet. Sigh.

Dr Bwaa
2012-05-12, 02:53 PM
Rather than the next bit of the Joseph's Gap story, you get this weird thing, because I needed a break from writing (spoiler alert) Inevitable dialogue.


Hunt
or: What Kind of Terrible World Is This?
“...And then the Elf says, ‘You mean to tell me that all the Gnomes and Dwarves are gone from Arnac?’ ‘Every single one,’ the genie replies. ‘Well in that case, I wish for a glass of fine wine, please!’” Everyone’s heard the joke a hundred times before, but we all laugh drunkenly anyway, raising wooden mugs of heady, bitter ale as the big man on my left--Karl something--launches into another joke.

I glance across the room. The Nymph’s Lounge is dim and crowded and loud, but my mark is easy to keep track of. He’s wearing a garish yellow cloak and a tall, pointed red hat, pushed close to the little raised stage where the “nymphs” are dancing. The show should end any minute.

The men at my table laugh again and I turn back to them, refreshing the big grin on my face and taking a deep drink. Karl half-shouts to me over the noise of the bar, “See anything you like?” which elicits another round of guffaws from my tablemates. “Nah,” I reply just as loudly, “the girls at this place always smell like fish!” Karl laughs, and a guy who looks like he might have some Orc blood pipes up, “Speakin’ of fish, you boys see Derrik’s wife by the docks earlier? What a face, eh!”

The smaller man next to him gives him a good punch to the shoulder, and the big guy roars with laughter, leaning his stool so far back he nearly topples over. Out of the corner of my eye I see the red hat on the move; most of the dancers retiring for the night through the door behind the stage, with a few sticking around to suggest to the audience how to arrange for a more personal show.

I push my stool back, raising my eyebrows suggestively at the other men at my table, and head for the counter. I scrape a few coppers out of a vest pocket and deposit them prominently in front of the harried-looking barmaid. I make my way to the stage and try not to look too closely at a skinny girl clothed only in translucent bluish silk as I linger for a few moments, then turn away and slip out the door.

The man in the red hat is nowhere to be seen when I step out onto the moonlit street, but if my information is good, I know where he’s going. I turn left and then left again, into the narrow alley next to the Lounge. Only a few feet in, the tavern’s chimney juts out almost to the opposite wall, and I squeeze around it to the other side, where I know the alley continues for a short way and then comes to an end against the back of a warehouse.

Feeling around in the dark, I find the piton I’d hammered into the stone chimney this afternoon at head height. From there, finding the other two and climbing to the roof is a simple matter. I retrieve my bow and quiver from where they hang inside the chimney and pry out the piton they hung from, stuffing it into a pocket and slinging the quiver over my shoulder as I make my way towards the back of the tavern.

Sure enough, Red Hat is there, standing silently in the shadows of another dead-end corridor not far from the back doorway. He’s clearly trying to stay hidden despite his outlandish garb, and he seems surprisingly successful as, a few silent minutes later, the back door opens and girls begin to leave in twos and threes. The door blocks their view of the man and they hurry away through the night without a backwards glance.

Several more minutes pass; the man below me puts his hand into a yellow pocket and waits. Finally, a dancer exits the tavern alone, and the yellow-cloaked man makes his move. Like lightning, he appears at her side, gripping her upper arm and winding a thick length of white cloth around her face several times, effectively silencing her cries.

Wrenching her arms behind her back and binding them there, he throws the girl easily over one shoulder and, holding tight to her bare, struggling legs, carries her down the alley toward the road. Her thin blue dress flutters in the light breeze. So, my contact’s accusation of kidnapping certainly holds. I suspect the other will as well, but I keep silent until I can know for sure.

The buildings in this area are packed so close together that hopping from rooftop to rooftop is no challenge at all. I keep pace with the man easily for several minutes as he strolls almost casually down the lane with the struggling girl draped over his shoulder. The few passers-by who notice him hurry quickly in the other direction, anxious to pretend they didn’t see. Each time, I grit my teeth and wonder what kind of world it is I’m trying to save.

Soon enough, he turns off Crosstown into a long, twisting alley, following its path nearly to its end, when he stops and turns to face a large wooden shipping crate.

Releasing the dancer’s legs with one hand, he digs in a pocket with the other, removing a key and unlocking the crate in front of him. He pulls the lid open, and I shift down the length of the roof a short way to get a better look. Something tells me Red Hat isn’t taking her anywhere else. “Erastil, guide my sights,” I mutter as I ready my bow and notch an arrow to the string.

I feel the slight prickling ruffle as a crest of feathers replaces my hair, my eyes stretch and widen and the content of the crate comes into view. It is a table of sorts, with thick leather straps pinned to it in several places, and its purpose becomes horribly clear as he tosses the blue-clad girl down on it, binding her arms, legs, and throat so she lies spread-eagled on the wooden surface, tears leaking from her wide eyes.

The man draws a long knife from somewhere inside layers of hideous fabric and grabs a fistful of the girl’s dress with his other hand. That’s enough confirmation of the second accusation for me. I draw the bow taught, sighting along the shaft as my prey leers down at his.

The young dancer cries as the knife advances. There is a soft hiss; the man falters. The knife clatters to the ground; the man’s hands clutch at a length of oak protruding from his throat. Crimson spills over yellow robes. The man staggers, then topples heavily into the dirt, knocking the tall red hat from his head. The girl stares around, eyes wide with fear and confusion.

The feathers slowly recede from my face, and I make a conscious effort to soften my eyes and unclench my jaw. I stow my bow on my quiver again and jump lightly down from the roof, landing with a soft crunch on the dry earth. Drawing my own knife, I carefully sever the restraints holding the girl to the table as she stares up at me. She pulls the gag from her mouth, and I offer her my hand and help her down off the table, waiting in silence as she smoothes and adjusts her dress.

After a minute, she looks down at the yellow-clad corpse, then up at me again, silent. “This is a dangerous part of the city, alone at night. Do you live close by?” She nods. “Would you like me to walk you there?”

@Nyarai
The problem I have with the "stories" line was that you've just never mentioned anything about the political climate. With some thought, I arrive at the conclusion you wanted--some kind of sideways jab at the current regime--but it's not obvious, and is kind of distracting from the events of the snippet.

I got that they were the same person; I was just confused because I assumed at the "mortal" line that Cyric was, in fact, Cyric the God, in human form and screwing with people for laughs. So that's probably just my own interpretation getting in the way. It might be clearer if you didn't have the ******** right there though; it makes it seem like it might be a scene change or something, where it's really continuing on directly. I'm not sure if this really needs too much clarifying, though.

@Tavar
Wow that was a lot more exposition than I expected. Thank you! That definitely helps a lot. I've said it before, but I really need to play some Exalted so I can feel more at home in these snippets.


And, winds & sleepyshadow, I read both your last snippets and loved them; real comments are coming soon :smallwink:

JonRG
2012-05-12, 11:28 PM
I made edits as per your suggestion, lh4k. Thanks for the advice. :smallsmile:

Dr Bwaa
2012-05-14, 09:27 AM
Oh, my! A wild Name Change appears! Seriously I didn't really expect that thing to ever go through.

@SleepyShadow

"Maybe it's because you two are insensitive jerks to the NPCs," Ed's corpse suggested.

"Hush, you're dead and undermining Clarice's angry speech," Zarovich said reproachfully.

As always, your treatment of their "ooc" dialogue is awesome.


Strahd Von Zarovich sighed exasperatedly, then let out a shriek of agony as his skin began to steam and burn.

Oh man. I still don't think I'd allow this. Very funny though.


"I'm going home."

Yessssss. Get out of there while you can Clarice!


"Come on inside," the young woman said with a smile.

Oooh, good touch. Poor Clarice though (and I love how von Zarovich keeps saying her name). I suppose he was telling the truth about curing her lycanthopy, though--maybe. If it works like that. Looking forward to seeing how she interacts with the party now (and what vampire mythology you're going with as far as personality/alignment/etc).


@Winds
To be honest, I didn't like this one as much as some of the others. It seemed to jump around a lot, especially the first several paragraphs. This moment especially left me wishing for more explanation:


We played both sides as long as we could. It didn't work out that well.

I really hate guns.

We know they've encountered guns before, but there's no particular reason for Kalach to hate them right now. The best I can do is assume that "it didn't work out that well" was on account of something particular to guns, but I'm in the dark as to what that is--a little more exposition here would make it a lot clearer.

I did really enjoy his treatment/analysis of the time travel/whatever-it-was that went on there. His comment at the end about the relative weirdness of his powers vs time travel shenanigans is great, too. Overall, I just wish this snippet were fleshed out with a little more detail about specific anecdotes and so forth.

JonRG
2012-05-14, 11:46 AM
Hee, nice! It's an insanely fun name to say aloud, that's for sure. :smallbiggrin:

Tavar
2012-05-14, 01:13 PM
Another snippet, this one not based on something besides Exalted!

Names stolen shamelessly from other sources.


Doroga looks to the East, watching the sun rise, as is his custom. The camp is beginning to stir behind him, but if feels as if there's a cliff between him and them. He'll be leaving, after all. To be a hostage, though the crap-sitters don't call it that: he's a cultural exchangee. Funny how they aren't sending one of their own out here. But then, the stronger rarely have to make concessions to the weaker, do they?

The Earthshaker clan needs this treaty: give the Humans some worthless ground to mine for even-more worthless gems. Pretty, to be sure, beauty is everywhere. Useful things, now those can be all too rare. And the Earthshakers are getting some very useful things out of the deal: yearly gifts of worked metal. Then again, the Humans are getting something useful as well, aren't they? He may be the second son, and thus not the true heir to the Shaman, but he has power all the same.

A hand on his shoulder.
"What do you see, Cub?"

Scowling, Doroga looks up at his father. "I'm an adult now, Father. And today I'm leaving. The least you could do is call me by my name."

There's a twinkle in the old man's eye, causing Doroga's scowl to deepen. "The clan judges you an Adult, but you are my child yet. I don't wish to send you away, but the clan needs this treaty, and everything has a price. The Alerans will be your hosts: remember, you aren't simply a hostage there. You will be our permanent representative. What you do reflects on all of us."

Doroga almost resist, caught up like most new adults in the importance of their new status, before catching his father in a hug, burying his face in the older man's shoulder. "I'm scared, Father. What if I change?"

"I certainly hope you do." Looking down at his son's stunned expression, his face softens, and he continues. "Life is change. You'll see that one day. But as long as you live, you'll remain my son, and have a place in this tribe. Many things will change, but not that. Never that."


_______________
Three Years Later

He doesn't wake till long after the sun rises, anymore. Waking up at dawn is for the poor, or the barbarians out in the wilderness. Certainly not for the Aleran family, or their honored guest.

Lazily stretching, Doroga gets up to do his morning grooming, before going downstairs to breakfast with Marcus. The two were the same age, and had become close friends over the past few years.

The next few hours are filled with them fooling around: it's their day off from studies or duties. Doroga does show Marcus that new trick he worked out, but beyond that it's the same as many other days.

Until the event that shatters everything. Returning home, Guards all around the house, apparently keeping the surrounding crowd to get any ideas. They enter easily enough, and in the Atrium they see why. Several Hobgoblin Warriors, dressed for battle, lounge around. They stiffen when they see Doroga.

One finally steps forward. An older warrior, a friend of his fathers. Nasaug, if he remembers correctly. "Doroga. Get your things ready. You're leaving."

Marcus comes between them. "What are you talking about. He has to stay for the treaty-"

"His brother is dead, and so is the Treaty. Your false-tribute saw to that." Nasaug looms over Marcus, gripping his sword so hard his hand is beginning to shake.

Doroga knows he should intervene, but he feels so...disconnected. Apart from everything around him. He silently goes, gathers the few things he needs, and leaves, saying a few token thanks to the Aleran's sympathies. Home. Where is home, really?
______________

It seems like a blur. News of his brother's death, the call for his return. The gathering for war. The Council. Him, speaking out for peace, and the backlash.

Now he sits in his Father's tent. Wearing the traditional Earthsaker garb, but after 3 years it feels wrong, somehow. He thinks back to the day he left, and his father's words. Maybe he was wrong, maybe that has changed.

The flaps open, and his father walks in. He's older, easier to see now without the ceremonial garb. As if more than a mere three years have passed. Doroga genuflects, speaking with his head touching the rug.

"Father, I'm-"

"Don't apologize. You are right, this is pointless. But worse, it's futile. We can't win, not against the human army. But we don't have a choice."

He's startled by the tone in Father's voice. He hasn't heard him like this since mother died. "Surely there's something-"

"No, they've laid the trap too well. Continually encroaching, taking more and more. Now the only choice for us is between dying well or poorly. Well, most of us."

"Father?"

"I have one last task for you, cub. I need to go with the War camp. You'll be in charge of the Peace camp. If-When- we lose, keep them alive. Keep the clan alive."

Doroga is stunned by his father's request, mutely nodding.

His father gives that knowing smile that Doroga always found so infuriating, before turning to leave. He pauses by the tent flaps, looking over his shoulder at his son.

"May the Earth Shake in your Passing, Doroga."

Having called him by his name for the first time, he leaves. Doroga never sees him again.

When really was the correct word.
______________
It is raining. He hates the rain. Least of all due to the trouble it's causing the clan. Sapping the strength of the injured, making accidents more likely, and hiding their pursuers.

Ahead of him, one of the warriors stumbles. For a second, Doroga thinks it's simply putting a foot down in a loose patch of mud, but then he falls backwards, and the arrow sticking out of his throat is visible.

"Ambush! "

The next few...minutes? Feels like hours, but then, it always does. So much happens, so fast. Some mounted men, falling to the flames he summons. Another warrior down, a lucky hit to his leg. Some aren't as lucky: a child taking an arrow to the stomach, and trampled under a rider's mount. The mother, or maybe sister, speared through her chest as she reaches for him.

There are two few attackers, though. They must have thought this was another of the scattered bands, rather than the remnants of the tribe, such as it is. They are surrounded and overwhelmed in short order, and Doroga moves to aid the wounded.

After tending the most grievously wounded, some warriors approach, dragging a living man along.

"Nasaug, what is this? I don't have the strength to cure all of our own wounded, much less the enemy."

"Shaman, this trash says he knows you, that you'd want him alive." At this, Nasaug rips the mans helmet off, revealing Marcus Alerans face. "So, do you?"

Doroga doesn't speak for a bit, shocked to see the familiar face of his friend.

"Doroga, it's me! I'm so glad to see you: I thought that-"

Doroga's face softens for a moment, not really hearing his friends words. When he looks up, however, he sees the trampled body of the child, prepared for the death rites. Looking Nasaug in the eyes, he speaks in a hard monotone.
"He's simply someone I used to know."

A small motion from his hands, and Nasaug draws his sword and slices in one motion, seperating Marcus's head from his shoulders. Doroga's glad it's raining, otherwise someone might think he was crying.

They preform the rites for their dead. Most of the invaders are simply left where they fell. Except for one body, which the Shaman obliterates in a moment of privacy. Only Nasaug sees, but he never tells a soul.
__________

Years Later
Doroga looks to the East, watching the sun rise, as is his custom. The camp is beginning to stir behind him, but if feels as if there's a cliff between him and them. He'll be leaving, after all. A hostage, again, this time to fate. He might bring the salvation of the clan.

If not, he will bring fire, death, and the end of the world.

Rallicus
2012-05-14, 07:19 PM
Came out a bit longer than I hoped, but oh well.

This is a story about a cannon-fodder NPC I had in the last session of my campaign. He turned out to be a real hero, though, considering his 3 nonlethal damage caused a CR 4 half-orc barbarian to go unconscious (he had 2hp left). Had that not happened, the half-orc would have probably killed one of my players.

And of course... the players couldn't really give a damn about him, regardless of whether or not he saved them. :p

Anyway, here it is:

The Nameless Thief:

The Thief paces around the burial chambers, examining the old coffins from time to time. The events surrounding his current predicament weigh heavily on his mind. Where did it all go wrong?

There was a time when he and his fellow thieves were simple cutpurses. They'd steal at any opportunity they could and, yes, they'd rough up their victims occasionally. But murder them? That was hardly their style.

The old times, the better times, feel like a distant memory now. The Thief sighs heavily, but his musing is interrupted by a nearby door swinging open.

The Intruders stand before him, weapons drawn. He knows he is outnumbered, and immediately submits.

They take his weapons, they threaten his life. Fear washes over him; he begins to sweat. His family back home is probably worried sick. How will he afford to pay for his daughter's medicine if he's killed here?

"You will show us the way to the woman," a foreign-looking man orders.

The Thief feigns bravery, and he agrees reluctantly. He knows the woman of which they speak. The same woman his superior kidnapped, the same woman whose husband they murdered in cold blood. He wanted to help her - he was a good man - but how could he, outnumbered and weak as he was?

Biting his lower lip, The Thief takes his keys and unlocks the adjacent door. The Intruders motion for him to step inside.

He does so.

In the next room, several of his colleagues sit around a snuffed out fire pit. It was a stupid mistake to try and light a fire in these underground tombs, and they'd nearly choked to death from the smoke the day prior.

The Thief greets them; he tells them of The Intruders, and how it would be best to allow them through. His colleagues are shocked and disgusted with his sudden betrayal and a fight ensues. By the end, two of his fellow thieves are dead; one has surrendered, after dropping his weapon accidently in the heat of battle.

The man who surrendered tells of the half-orc behind the next door. Their leader's right hand. A man The Thief has seen before, a powerful creature more orc than man. The mere thought of him sends a chill down The Thief's spine, for he knows his betrayal will eventually reach the monster's ear.

The Thief moves to the door, his hands shaking. As he readies to turn the key in the keyhole, the door suddenly breaks from it's hinges. He's hit by the door, which knocks him clear off his feet and sends him tumbling across the room.

The room begins to spin. His vision becomes blurry. He can see The Intruders fighting the half-orc, but he feels helpless. They will die - he knows it.

Pulling himself to his feet, The Thief weighs his options. He decides to help The Intruders. They're his best chance to return to his little girl.

He bravely charges forward, pummeling the back of the half-orc's skull with his fists. Momentarily distracted, the half-orc turns and swings his club.

The Thief feels woozy. His head is in remarkable pain, and blood drips over his eyes. His knees buckle. It becomes harder to see.

He remembers his daughter. He remembers that she must get the money for her medicine. He tries to say her name, so The Intruders will know. They will help her - he's sure of it.

He opens his mouth but no words come out. There's a bright flash, and then nothing.

Winds
2012-05-15, 09:07 AM
@Dr. Bwaa

Okay, I get that.


@Tavar

Interesting. Is it actually set in Alera, or is it something else with similar characters?


@Rallicus

Oh, how players treat NPCs. You did well making his reasons and actions relateable, though. I like how they don't seem to have introduced themselves...

SleepyShadow
2012-05-15, 01:05 PM
@Dr. Bwaa: Thanks for the comments, and glad you liked it. I liked your snippet as well, though I'm unsure why it required a spoiler alert. Is it from something I should know about?

@Winds: I allowed the water thing because it seemed creative enough to not give it the DM Boot of Disapproval. However, there's no way that Strahd Von Zarovich would be permanently destroyed by level 0 spells, hence his return :smallamused:

@Tavar: Well written and I liked the story behind it as well. It almost seems like the backstory behind The Red Hand of Doom :smalltongue:

@Rallicus: I know the feeling all too well. Players rarely (if ever) view NPCs as anything more than talking chunks of exp.


The snippet that I bring today comes from a short adventure completely unrelated to the Ravenloft goings-on. Whats more, I'm not the DM for once! :smallsmile:

Film Noir D&D
The Blue Beacon was your average sort of tavern: smokey, dimly lit, and always with something going on. It was a cesspool to some and a haven to others. I had been asked down to this place by an anonymous letter claiming that my help was needed. It was a gamble to trust a strange letter, but the prospect of paying work was too good an offer to turn down.

Maybe I should have.

Mac, the bartender, gave me a nod as I came in and sat sat down at the bar. My back was to the room, but Mac had a mirror hanging behind the counter for his waitresses to spruce up with, so I could watch the whole bar without anyone being the wiser. The barmaids stood in a flock chattering. A couple of rough-looking gents were at the back of the room arguing about paladins. Down at the other end of the bar were a couple of dames that looked none too happy. When they got up and started toward me, I had a feeling I was about to find out why.

"Mr. Faber?" one of them asked.

I turned around, pretending to be surprised by them. The one that talked was a wisp of a woman, hair in a bun, glasses. A cute doll, if you liked bookworms. The other woman ... well, let's just say I've seen street corner harlots with less obvious intentions and more clothing.

"That's right," I answered. "Horst Faber. Is there something you need?"

"I sent you a letter ..." the mousy girl said, her voice trailing off.

"I got it," I told her as I pulled it out of the pocket of my trench coat.

"Will you help me? Please?"

"Why don't you tell me what it is you need help with?"

"Well," she replied, "I think my husband has been kidnapped ..."

Missing person. Husband. Swell.

"What makes you think that?" I asked.

"He went down to the temple of Mystra a few days ago, but he hasn't come back. Do you know anything about the temple?"

"I can't say that I do," I answered.

Of course I did. It was more of a fortress than a temple, with high walls, iron gates, and guards patrolling the place night and day. I was a man of faith, but not that faith, and I couldn't say that I agreed with Mystra's dealings. I listened to what she had to say, but she knew even less about it than I did.

"Before I agree to help you," I said, "what's the pay?"

"I don't really have much money ..." the dame started to say.

I didn't like where this was going.

"I'm sure we can work something out," the whore said seductively.

"Not with you," I replied stiffly.

"I'll give you whatever money I have," the girl said quickly. "Just please bring my husband home."

"Fine," I muttered. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you so much Mr. Faber," the mousy girl said delightedly. "I've already got someone to help you."

I didn't like the sound of that. I liked it even less when the two men at the back of the bar waved at me.

"Are you ready for adventure?" the burly man asked. "Let's destroy the evil! For righteousness!"

"I hope you rolled up something more useful than a paladin," the scrawny man beside him grumbled.

I should have turned down the job.

Dr Bwaa
2012-05-15, 06:47 PM
@SleepyShadow
Heh, the alert was just a minor spoiler for my next Wanderers snippet--there's an Inevitable involved :smallwink: Nothing to do with the one I actually posted.


smokey

While this is technically a correct spelling of the word, "smoky" is the standard one. "Smokey" is more frequently a first name than an adjective.


I had been asked down to this place

This just feels like a kind of weird turn of phrase. "Asked to come down" maybe?


Mac, the bartender

Obviously. :smallbiggrin:


a couple of dames that looked none too happy. When they got up and started toward me, I had a feeling I was about to find out why.

I like that you're going for the noir vocab, here. "Looking none too happy" would be more in-tone. Also, "when they got up and started toward me" is unnecessary here; the line is much stronger without it. Since you still need them to have action toward our hard-boiled protagonist, maybe have them glance at him in the sentence before "a couple of dames looking my way and none too pleased."


Missing person. Husband. Swell.

Nice.


"I'm sure we can work something out," the whore said seductively.

Horst is still narrating this scene. Put some more of his derision into this line; you know he wants to.


"Are you ready for adventure?" the burly man asked. "Let's destroy the evil! For righteousness!"

Ahahaha. Oh, Paladins.

This is a really fun snippet; I hope you've got more of these. This thread needs more noir. One other thought--you've got a lot of "I didn't like the sound of that/where this is going/etc" breaking up the girl's lines--they're so similar that I think you could play with them a little more. It could be really effective to just hammer the phrase two or three times, on lines by itself, without changing it up quite as much:


"He went down to the temple of Mystra a few days ago, but he hasn't come back. Do you know anything about the temple?"

I didn't like the sound of that.

"I can't say that I do," I answered.

Of course I did. It was more of a fortress than a temple, with high walls, iron gates, and guards patrolling the place night and day. I was a man of faith, but not that faith, and I couldn't say that I agreed with Mystra's dealings. I listened to what she had to say, but she knew even less about it than I did.

"Before I agree to help you," I said, "what's the pay?"

"I don't really have much money ..." the dame started to say.

I didn't like the sound of that, either.

"I'm sure we can work something out," the whore said seductively.

"Not with you," I replied stiffly.

"I'll give you whatever money I have," the girl said quickly. "Just please bring my husband home."

"Fine," I muttered. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you so much Mr. Faber," the mousy girl said delightedly. "I've already got someone to help you."

I liked the sound of that less than anything else the dame had said. Less still when the two men at the back of the bar waved at me.

"Are you ready for adventure?" the burly man asked. "Let's destroy the evil! For righteousness!"

Obviously that's pretty crude but you get the idea. Just an thought that struck me as I got to the last few lines.


@Tavar

-Act I-

Aww, Doroga's dad is great. I generally picture Shamans a bit more brooding and isolated; this guy feels more like Mufasa. Very good opening; no complaints at all (even if I don't know what race the protagonist is, yet :smallwink:).


Doroga does show Marcus that new trick he worked out

Context? We don't know what kind of stuff they do; all we know is that Doroga's life is now hugely different. Are they sparring? Street performance? Magic?


Several Hobgoblin Warriors, dressed for battle, lounge around. They stiffen when they see Doroga.

It may be worth noting that this is the first time Hobgoblins are actually mentioned; it's not totally clear until a few lines later that they're friendly (so to speak), or at least aligned in some way with Doroga. At first I thought three hobgoblins had somehow taken over the home and were now lounging around having the humans cater to them or something.


Doroga knows he should intervene, but he feels so...disconnected.

Presumably at the news of his brother's death, which I get, but I'd like to see him react to the news. See him lose focus and stop paying attention to the rush of conversation around him, rather than just hearing "oh he feels disconnected."


-End of Act II-

Again, Dad is great. I would put some single-quotes in the last line of this bit, though, to make the sentence clearer (eg. 'When' really was the correct word.)


The next few...minutes? Feels like hours, but then, it always does. So much happens, so fast.

This does a great job setting the feel of the ambush, but the last bit (bolded) is weak in comparison. I think you could remove it altogether.


There are two too few attackers

:smallsmile:


-End of Act III-

Great finish; very strong melancholy and resignation throughout the whole ending. At first I was kind of appalled by Doroga's decision, but on my second read-through I sympathized with him much more. I might put a reference in the paragraph where he makes his decision to Marcus himself--the blood on his sword, spattered on his helm, etc--reminding the reader that, friend or no, thirty seconds ago this guy was butchering Doroga's family. I liked this snippet a whole lot--definitely sucks to be Doroga, though.


@Rallicus

That was hardly their style.

I think you're communicating "they would never do that" with an air of sarcasm, but it comes across (to me, at least) as more of a "they wouldn't do that... most of the time." "That was never their style" might be clearer.


How will he afford to pay for his daughter's medicine if he's killed here?

I doublt he'll be paying anything at all :smallwink: This might be less jarring as "Who will pay for..." or something of the sort, or perhaps a reference to the fact that he hasn't made any arrangements for paying for and procuring the medicine in the event of his untimely death, and an oath to do so immediately if he makes it out of this alive.


after dropping his weapon accidently in the heat of battle.

Heh. Oh, fumbles.


He tries to say her name, so The Intruders will know. They will help her - he's sure of it.

Besides them being Heroic Adventurers In Need of More Side Quests, how does he know this? He knows (as far as we know) nothing about these guys, except that they're perfectly willing to kill anyone in their way to whatever goal they've got. That said, I actually really like this line (and the callback to "he knows it" just before)--if you hinted somewhere earlier at some noble cause (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X90qKQAMh8A), or even a slightly Good leaning of one of the party members, the line wouldn't clash at all and would actually just be really confortable and kind of sweet.

Overall, I liked this snippet a lot. The Thief is likeable, despite being basically undescribed, and the PCs come off... well, as very typical Adventurers. It's always fun to see the PCs from the perspective of the NPCs they interact with; their crazy self-assured antics and single-minded focus on some unexplained or inane objective. There's more to come, I hope? :smallbiggrin:

Rallicus
2012-05-15, 07:24 PM
Overall, I liked this snippet a lot.
[/spoiler]

Thanks, and I appreciate the input.

The snippet itself was slightly rushed because I wasn't sure how long it would come out to be in my post, so I left some details out. You're right about "he's sure of it" part. The cleric was incredibly kind to him (at least, in comparison to the other party members) and she was probably the strongest factor in him not being cut down where he stood.

I guess the aforementioned line doesn't make sense without adding the cleric's involvement in, so I'll do that.

Tavar
2012-05-15, 08:21 PM
Thanks for the input. Actually, Doroga's father seems to be more like Doroga from Codex Alera than Doroga is. And the reason for the names is that I'm horrible with them, so steal ideas from any available source.

Good point about the trick thing, and the race. Probably should just change the latter to "Earthshaker Warriors". And yeah, need to expand several parts.

SleepyShadow
2012-05-16, 12:24 PM
Thanks for the input. It was my first attempt at writing anything even close to noir style. Clearly, I should have watched The Maltese Falcon again before attempting this :smalltongue:

I do have more featuring Horst, though the adventure was quite short lived.


Horst Gets Ahead
It's a hot day in winter when I can tolerate a holy knight more than a mage. Zephyr didn't seem to understand that I wasn't interested in his arcane babble about feats and classes and such. According to him I was "non-optimized." He was living proof that wizards are unhinged. I almost felt bad for Ambler, who had been 'assigned' to protect Zephyr. The paladin did not explain what he meant by that, and I was not interested enough to ask.

Zephyr had gone to the library to do research on the temple and he took Ambler with him. Not that the knight could read. Still, the two had left me alone and I can't say I was disappointed. Zephyr was a fool if he thought that he would find out anything useful. Books only tell you what the authors want you to know. You have to talk to people to get real information, and I knew exactly what people to talk to.

"What do you want this time, Faber?" Marla asked as she and the other courtesans gathered around me.

People talk too much to the wrong people when they let their guard down, and Marla and her girls had keen ears.

"Information, same as always," I told her.

"Information doesn't come cheap."

Same old routine as always. I reached into my coat pocket. Miho drew a sword and put it to my neck from behind me. I let her take the coin pouch and toss it to Marla. The blade was removed and sheathed. I checked my pockets to make sure Miho didn't take anything else. She didn't.

"I need to know about the temple of Mystra," I said as I straightened my hat. "Start talking."

It turned out my client's husband wasn't the only one missing. Marla had lost three girls in the past month after paying a visit to the priests at the temple. I knew Marla was telling the truth. She's always had a rule with her girls that they could leave whenever they wanted to as long as they told her first. Marla was worried about them.

After my chat with Marla I went to the library to check up on Zephyr. He wasn't hard to find. All I had to do was follow Ambler's snoring.

"How long are you going to read?" I asked.

"I'm doing thorough research on Mystra and the temple," the mage replied. "It'll be about three hours. Just sit and wait and we can proceed."

"Three hours is time we don't have."

"Plot advances with us, not the other way around."

Idiot. I left without another word. I had told Marla that I would try to find her girls, and I was a man of my word. I didn't give my word lightly.

By the time I got to the temple I had already formulated a shaky plan. I planned on scaling an unguarded section of wall, sneak inside pretending to be a new convert to the faith, and then start looking around for husbands and whores.

I didn't even get the grappling hook tied to the rope before a passing guard on the street noticed me. He started coming toward me with a halberd, and I knew that if I could not drop him in a single shot with my crossbow he would call for help. I knew my hand crossbow did not carry enough power to stop him.

He stopped about halfway from me, and that's when I saw blood dribbling down from his mouth. I watched in surprise as he hit the ground with a wet splat. I couldn't keep myself from smiling at his killer.

Beautiful, deadly Miho.

A new plan began to form in my mind as I searched the dead guard's body while Miho kept an eye out for more passing guards.

"How good are you at acting?" I asked her with a wry grin on my face.

Dr Bwaa
2012-05-21, 02:58 PM
Guys guys I have two more snippets nearly done (just need to get them back from my beta-reader and make edits)!Yeah you've never heard that one before.

@SleepyShadow

It's a hot day in winter when I can tolerate a holy knight more than a mage.

I appreciate the sentiment here, and it's a great line to start this thing out, but the bolded part could be... bolder. More expressive. As "Noir" is really more of a film descriptor, what you're generally going for in writing this genre is generally closer to straight Hard-Boiled: unforgiving descriptions and gritty, violent imagery.


Same old routine as always.

This is your second "as always" in just a few lines. There's no need for it here.


I reached into my coat pocket. Miho drew a sword and put it to my neck from behind me. I let her take the coin pouch and toss it to Marla. The blade was removed and sheathed. I checked my pockets to make sure Miho didn't take anything else. She didn't.

I like this scene, and the casual attitude Horst describes it with. It would come off a little better, I think, if he didn't explicitly give every detail:

I reached into my coat pocket, felt the tip of Miho's sword jump to my throat. I held still as she took the coin pouch and tossed it to Marla. When she removed the blade, I checked my pockets to make sure she didn't take anything else. She didn't.


It turned out my client's husband wasn't the only one missing. Marla had lost three girls in the past month after paying a visit to the priests at the temple. I knew Marla was telling the truth. She's always had a rule with her girls that they could leave whenever they wanted to as long as they told her first. Marla was worried about them.

Marla, Marla, Marla! There are no other actors in this paragraph, so there's no need to repeat her name; it's clear enough. Perfect opportunity for some descriptive, probably derogatory--or at least a bit offensive--identifiers. There's a reason people associate noir fiction with the narrative referring to a woman as "the dame" (etc) rather than by name.


Idiot. I left without another word. I had told Marla that I would try to find her girls, and I was a man of my word. I didn't give my word lightly.

One nice thing about noir is there's a bit of freedom-of-tense that comes with the genre. The main character/narrator is allowed to talk to the audience a bit, so you can make this a little smoother by putting the last sentence in present tense. "I don't give my word lightly" is much more confident.


I knew that if I could not drop him in a single shot with my crossbow he would call for help. I knew my hand crossbow did not carry enough power to stop him.

The bolded part above is redundant/awkward. You clarify what exactly you're shooting with in the next sentence. Keep the narrative crisp and terse; you're the narrator; you've got places to be.


Beautiful, deadly Miho.

This is a great line, but it doesn't belong all by itself like this in noir fiction. Attach it to the previous paragraph or give it some more description; what Miho does, how she looks, if she says anything, all that kind of stuff.

I hope you continue this; it's a lot of fun to read! Generally, the things I would say to work on style-wise are:
As the narrator, when in doubt...
...make yourself look slick.
...disrespect everyone else off-hand.
...describe the violence point-blank.

Winds
2012-05-27, 08:17 PM
Well, this has been still long enough. Also, I'm falling behind again, so I need to get back to posting.


One nightmare after another

We said our goodbyes to Kronc. He seems quite content to stay in that town rendering zombies to paste. Well, more power to him. Every one he stills is less problem for everyone else.


Nothing of note happened during the day, but...I had a dream. The fiend-dragon I made my pact with was shouting at me for opposing his plans.

The one making the plans was Asmodeus. He noticed. He's angry with me. A problem I knew I would have to confront...

Fine. Given what a clusterluck I've walked into, I really should have written a will earlier. In regards to how most adventurers get their gear, my possestions are fair game to anyone that can find and use them. The only thing that matters to me is the power. I intend that my children have it, but if I die first, it'll stay with me, and I'll fight the devils with it. We'll see who owns who, in the end.

Well. It sounds good, at least. We'll see how it goes.

Anyway, Neeska is gone. She decided that while a cursed warlock is fine, a possessed, floating warlock is too much.

But 'luckily' there was someone in our car. Another 'fellow'. Where are these people coming from...and how many portals are springing up? Honestly, I suppose I should just be glad none seem to lead to the planes of water or earth.

So, Kol has joined us. Not that there's much choice. He wants to go home, too. And, yet another 'K' name. I didn't think it was that common...

As we went, we passed a city. It won't be there much longer. There was another huge beast attacking it. Made of worms, and tall as the buildings.


I really don't think I'm qualified for this. Need to get it over with and get back to my own realm...

SanguisAevum
2012-05-30, 07:17 AM
So, the players in my game have progressed enough, and ruined enough plans to finally get themselves on the radar of some fairly powerful, and intellegent foes.

Naturally the first course of action of any rational thinking entity is to find out exactly what it is dealing with.

After some digging around, the PC's base has been discovered by the Bad guys, and, determined to find out about the capabilities of these "adventurers" they do what bad guys do best.

Call in some favours, and sacrifice an army of minions in order to draw the PCs out.

The two half fiends watched impassively from their perch as the various minions they had brought with them tore through the ranks of the Kobolds below.

"It's not much in the way of a base is it, Na' Tas?" asked the first, in a somewhat derisive tone.
"Were we much different when we started out, Raziel?" replied the second.

Raziel raised his voice slightly so as to be heard over the screams of one unfortunate reptilian being quartered alive by a pack of succubi.

"I suppose not" he began "But even in the early days, we knew what style was, Na' Tas. I mean... just look at the place!"

Na' Tas Shrugged as he cast his darkly glowing eyes over the scene below them. Raziel had a point, it was little more than a ruined elven city populated by the ragged remains of a Kobold tribe. Not exactly the bastion of defence they had expected when they followed the leads here. Below them their demonic horde was blissfully slaughtering the pathetic little creatures in ways even he wouldn't have thought possible.

"It does lack a certain degree of... elegance, I suppose" he conceded. "But then... I don't think they spend much time here, Raziel. It looks like they leave those two in charge"

Na' Tas's clawed finger pointed over the way towards two individuals. Around them, the battle fared somewhat differently. Surrounded in a not insignificant aura of power, they lay about themselves with various magics. The Fiendish bard quickly wracked his brains and recognised many of the spells they were using.

"That was an orb of force the half dragon just flung, Raziel"
"Indeed Na' tas, and the Kobold shaman is using them as well. But her's are empowered."
"There goes a wall of force, Raziel"
"Noted, and that was a twin, empowered, magic missile, Na' tas. All in all I am not impressed, we two alone could deal with these hedge wizards"

The pair watched as a Succubus dropped from the sky. The grey tinge of stone quickly spreading across it's body. It shattered into fragments as it hit the ground.

"Flesh to stone" The duo said at the same time.
"Ahh" exclaimed Raziel "And there is a sending, Na' Tas... not long now"

Not six seconds later, there was a whip crack of supersonically displaced air as the objectives of this little excursion teleported directly into the carnage

"And here comes the cavalry, Raziel" whispered Na' Tas, with a grim smile that revealed his fangs.

Things down below changed dramatically, Within moments, the scruffy looking robed human transformed into a huge bear and begun tearing demons to pieces. The high elf spellcaster was obliterating whole swathes of fiends one spell at a time, the northern elf with twin swords was a whirling engine of death incarnate, and the armoured dragon-born and elf female were brandishing symbols and banishing outsiders ten each at a time.

"Now THESE folks are interesting, Na' Tas"
"Oh yes, Raziel. I would wager these are the ones we need to deal with carefully"
"Indeed. I have seen enough, Na' Tas. Let us go and prepare"
"Agreed, Raziel. I have much preparation to undertake and have also seen as much as I need to"
"Can you do it, Na' Tas? are you sure you can deal with these adventurers?"

The half fiend smiled grimly as he flexed his pinions.

"Oh Yes Raziel, they wont even know they are under attack."

Winds
2012-05-30, 10:30 AM
I like your fiendish villains. Though, I am curious as to how and why the kobold tribe lives in their base (or vise-versa).

SanguisAevum
2012-05-30, 02:44 PM
I like your fiendish villains. Though, I am curious as to how and why the kobold tribe lives in their base (or vise-versa).

The favoured soul in the party is a lawful good Dragonborn of bahmut.

The tribe of kobolds is lead by the kobold shamaness mentioned in the story (a sorceress). She and her tribe all served a minor green dragon that the players managed to destroy, at the same time, they succeeded in bringing the sorceress close to death.

Instead of fighting to the death, the rather primitive Shaman instead fell down and worshipped the Dragonborn favoured soul as her new dragon overlord.

Somewhat taken aback, and unwilling to slaughter an entire tribe of suplicant kobolds, the favoured soul decided it was a test from Bahmut, and took it upon itself to bring these wayward reptilians under his wing and educate them in the ways of good.

So far, it has proven... challenging... and many lessons have had to have been taught :) (i am a cruel DM sometimes)

They are currently making a home in the nearest thing the PCs have to a base. (An old ruined elven city containing an ancient library that they liberated from it's denizens)

The other Caster was the favoured Souls Cohort (leadership feat), a half dragon diviner that was a failed experiment by the green dragon to breed her own dragonborn. It was the cohort that sent the sending to his master and the other PCs. (Who promptly arrived and Murdered the minor demon army (succubi and othe lesser outsiders)... bieng the 14th level twinked PCs they are.

Raziel and Na' Tas expected as much, and were content to simply watch the group in action, so as to form a plan of attack.

Na' Tas is a bard, with Subsonics, disguise spell, mass suggestion, a plethora of illusions and mind wipe amongst his spell selection.

If all goes to his plan... Unless the players are very clever... they will likely never even know they are in danger. (or at least realise where the danger origionates from)

Winds
2012-05-30, 04:03 PM
Very nice. Both the players and their impromptu social experiment and your bardic plot.

Dr Bwaa
2012-06-13, 04:49 PM
Check it out! I am BACK, like a thing that comes back in a very convincing way!

Without further ado, here's the first of the two things I promised like months ago oh god I'm so bad at getting this stuff done on time. Also, comments below!

Previous chapters: 1 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12924541&postcount=47) 2 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13046788&postcount=61) 3 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13097147&postcount=77)


Inheritance
or: Lawful Doesn't Mean Reasonable
All at once, the crushing force disappears and my lungs fill in a rush. The air tastes like... nothing, like I’m not actually breathing at all, the air is so still and impalpable. I open my eyes and immediately regret the decision; everything is unbelievably bright, and my ears hiss with silence. Squinting, I see Nim groaning beside me, and Filbert on the other side of him, pulling himself up arrow-straight and looking around with narrowed eyes.

I remove my hand from my knee and straighten up as well, and nearly lose my balance as I realize I can’t tell the ground from the sky. Everything is the same pure, blinding white, and there’s nothing here except the three of us--wherever we are, because we sure as hell aren’t in Joseph’s Gap. My breath thunders in my ears; the normal rustles and clanks of clothes and armor as I turn slowly around die off instantly, seeming barely audible at all.

I open my mouth to speak, anxious to break the oppressive silence, when a shrieking growl cuts me off, steel crashing against steel. I spin; we are not alone. Not ten yards away, a chest identical to the one we just opened shimmers into view. Beside it, a very tall, robed figure stands, silhouetted darkest black against the relentless, unnatural light. The piercing noise repeats, almost like words--yes, that’s exactly what it is.

This thing is talking.

“Greetings.” Yes, it's definitely talking, and definitely talking to us. Its voice is the din of battle; the crack of magic; the howl of wind, and I grimace unflinchingly at the assault, glaring at its featureless face.

“I require several minutes of your attention. Which of you is the Nocturne?”

Honor Bound springs from its sheath to my hand in a blaze of color. “Who are you?” I demand. “How do you know that name?”

The figure takes a step forward. As my eyes begin to adjust to the harsh lighting I can see the face under the dark hood--shining and impassive, polished black steel given humanoid form. As it approaches, I realize just how tall it is--the mechanical man stands fully head and shoulders above me. Its body is living plate, with seams visible in places held together I know not how. My left hand gropes behind me for the Aegis’ sturdy leather straps.

“I do not require combat with you, Aegis. My business is with the Nocturne.” It turns its head to Filbert and then Nim, a joint at its throat opening and glowing white-hot as the metal plates separate momentarily. “You. You are the one bearing the title ‘Nocturne’; is that correct?”

Nim, with nowhere to hide in the endless white expanse and without an instrument to play, pulls a knife from his belt and begins tossing it idly, two, three, four times. I grit my teeth, eyes flickering between him and the menacing construct, about to answer for him when he finally responds. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“It has been four hundred and forty-eight years, two months, and eleven days, and still you have not fulfilled your contract, Nocturne. This is a most grievous breach of protocol. Do you wish to offer a defense?”

Nim catches the knife after a particularly lofty throw and it disappears from his hand. “What, in the name of the One God or otherwise, are you talking about? What contract? I’ve never even seen a... whatever-you-are before. And I don’t make contracts with maybe-living hunks of armor lurking inside my coffer, in any case.”

The mechanical figure is utterly still and utterly silent for a few moments. I slip my arm through the Aegis’ leather straps and pull the shield in front of me, waiting on tenterhooks for the thing's next move. At the edge of my vision I can see Filbert bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. Finally, the figure tears the silence with its speech once more.

“I see. You inherited the title of ‘Nocturne’ from another; is that correct?”

“Well, yeah,” replies Nim, the knife spinning in the air once again. “Sure, there was another Nocturne once, but he turned out to be a phony. I’m the real deal.” He smiles, like he’s trying to impress this steel monster.

“The previous bearer of the title ‘Nocturne’ is deceased; is that correct?”

“That means ‘dead’, right?”

“Yes. Has the previous bearer of the title ‘Nocturne’ died on this plane of existence?”

“Well then yeah, I just told you. I’m the Nocturne now. If you want to settle your deals with the old dead one, be my guest; I’m just here to pick up an artifact. That’s the real chest, right?” He points with his dagger at the box behind the robed construct.

“That is the original chest which contains the Willowisp. Do you, as the new bearer of the title ‘Nocturne’, accept full and complete responsibility for your predecessor’s oath?”

“Woah, hang on, what? No, I never even knew that guy; I’m not paying off his debts. Go talk to a priest for that kind of thing; that’s not how stuff works around here.”

“Then you refuse to accept full and complete responsibility for your predecessor’s oath? Be advised that this will leave the vow unfulfilled, and you will be subject to immediate execution for the crime of Failure to Accept an Inherited Planar Oath.” Its “voice” changes slightly at the last few words, becoming slightly louder and somehow even more artificial-sounding.

At that, I take two steps forward, only an arm’s length from the machine. This close, I can feel the heat coming off it, and I shout up to its face as it looks past me, motionless. “Absolutely not! I don’t care what promise the old Nocturne made, but we didn’t ask for these titles, and Nim is not beholden to you!” It continues to stare at Nim, over my head.

“Your predecessor, the former bearer of the title ‘Nocturne’, vowed to free another Agent of Law from its imprisonment in Joseph’s Gap Cathedral. He abandoned that promise; as a result, its terms pass to you. It is held in a Stasis Field in the dungeons below the Cathedral. Once you dispel the Stasis Field, the Agent will be able to leave on its own, and your oath will be fulfilled.”

“I told you he’s not responsible for some oath the old Nocturne made five hundred years ago! If you want him, you’re going to have to go through me!” I lower my stance, shield at the ready, wondering if this thing is made of steel or some stronger metal, but knowing that Honor Bound will cut it just the same. It is still, silent, for several moments. “Did you hear me, you metal thug?”

There is a cold feeling in my head and my vision shifts, not fuzzy but painfully sharp, as everything comes into the most perfect focus all at once, and I suddenly realize that I can’t move. Not a muscle, not a twitch. I can’t breathe; I can’t look around. In perfect, daggerlike clarity I hear the metallic screech of the thing’s speech again.

“I do not intend to execute your companions, but I will do so if I must. Do you, as the new bearer of the title ‘Nocturne’, accept full and complete responsibility for your predecessor’s oath?”

I struggle with everything I have against the sharpness; the glowing edges and perfectly-defined lines of the metal creature’s arm and cloak. The brightness behind it scours my eyes, and I cannot look away. I hear a sigh, then Nim’s voice.

“How long do I have?”

“You may have up to one week from tonight at midnight to fulfill the oath.”

Nim sighs loudly. “Fine. I accept.”

“You, the bearer of the title ‘Nocturne’, have until exactly midnight in Joseph’s Gap of the nine million, four-hundred-and-four thousand, four-hundred-and-thirteenth day of the six-hundred-and-twelfth cosmic cycle to ensure the freedom of Agent Three-Eight from the containment cell and stasis field beneath the Joseph’s Gap Cathedral. Failure to accomplish this task by the allotted time will result in your immediate execution. Opening the chest in front of you will terminate the existence of this intermediate pocket plane.”

In a blinding flash, the thing is gone. I fall to the ground--not soft; not hard; in fact it doesn’t feel like a real surface at all--as I suddenly regain control of my body and hear a similar muted rustling behind me. Turning, I see Filbert already picking himself up off the invisibly-white ground. I look at Nim as I get up, but he speaks first.

“We’ll deal with that later. Let’s just get the Willowisp and get out of here.” I nod, and Filbert and I follow him to the chest--identical in every way to the one we just opened. “It’s not locked,” Nim says, “and the trap is disabled.” He flips the catch and the lid flies up--instantly, the overwhelming pressure returns, and the three of us tumble forward once again into the gaping wooden maw.



Comments/critiques are very much appreciated (content/grammar/formatting, anything at all). Also I apologize for being terrible at dialogue, especially dialogue with... uncommon participants. Now, on to my comments!

@Winds

The fiend-dragon I made my pact with was shouting at me for opposing his plans.

The one making the plans was Asmodeus.

This presumably means that the fiend-dragon is subservient to Asmodeus, but it might be clearer if you don't refer to the plans as the fiend-dragon's plans, then immediately say Asmodeus was the one making them.


I really should have written a will earlier.

Haha, nice. This is an interesting consideration; bequeathing his power to his children. Am I correct in thinking that he doesn't have any kids yet, so this sentence is effectively "if I die first [before having children], it'll stay with me [but once i have kids if i die it will go to them]"? I'd love to see a little more detail about how he sets up this "will". Is there a ritual? Some kind of actual document?


But 'luckily' there was someone in our car. Another 'fellow'. Where are these people coming from...

Oh, the shenanigans one must go through when players change or characters die in planeswalking-type games.


And, yet another 'K' name. I didn't think it was that common...

Players doing this on purpose? Or will that start with the next replacement character, after they've read this comment in the journal? :smallwink:


As we went, we passed a city. It won't be there much longer. There was another huge beast attacking it. Made of worms, and tall as the buildings.

Ew. Also, I know Kalach is pretty jaded by this point, but I'd love to see more detail about stuff like this--fleeing inhabitants (or inhabitants unable to flee), natives trying to fight the thing, etc. It would do a lot to add a little more flavor.

I like that Kalach's actual backstory and power sources, etc have followed him to the Real World(TM) as well. It's only fair they get more obnoxious as the compaign goes on :smallbiggrin: Speaking of which, if you were falling behind before, you're definitely behind now. *cracks whip* Write, slave!


@SanguisAevum

But even in the early days, we knew what style was Na' Tas.

Great line; the name-drop is a little forced, though. At least set it off with a comma.


blissfully slaughtering

This is a great phrase.


"That was an orb of force, the half dragon just flung, Raziel"
"Indeed Na' tas... and the Kobold shaman is using them as well.. but her's are empowered." Replied the warlock.
"There goes a wall of force"
"Noted, and that was a twin, empowered, magic missile. All in all I am not impressed, we two alone could deal with these two hedge wizards"

You could use a once-over on the punctuation here, and this section as a whole feels a little strange. The narrative purpose is obvious (to tell the reader what is going on below), but the in-character reason for them telling each other things that they can both see and recognize is unclear. I think most of this could be dropped--just a mention of one notable spell, then "they watched these two for some time", then the comment about not being impressed, etc (which is very well-phrased). Alternately, you could go the way of the "flesh to stone" line a little later, and instead of having them actually talk, they can just alternate identifying spells: "Orb of Force." "Empowered Orb of Force." "Twin, Empowered Magic Missile." Having them actually talk about the spells makes them seem too invested in what's actually going on, where they should be just impassively, condescendingly observing. I do really like the way these guys talk, and that they use each other's names in just about every sentence (I think you could go further and literally have them use the other's name every single time they speak).


"Flesh to stone" The duo said at the same time.

This is a good moment in their description of spellcasting. It keeps their derisive aloofness.


Within moments, the druid, in the form of a dire bear, was tearing demons to pieces.

If he's turning into animals, we know he's a druid. More to the point, class levels are generally a metagame concept, and can generally be left out altogether. That gives you space to do something descriptive, so instead of the bit I quoted, you could have "Within moments, the heavyset, tattooed man among the new arrivals had tripled in size and become a monstrous brown bear, and begun tearing demons to pieces." The same goes for the rest of this paragraph, where you lay out everyone's main class, as well as both times you mention that Na' Tas is a Bard. The information is irrelevant to what's actually going on, and it's more interesting for the reader not to have that information just handed out.


"Now THESE folks are interesting, Na' Tas"
"Oh yes, Raziel. I would wager these are the ones we need to deal with carefully"
"Indeed. I have seen enough. Let us go and prepare"
"Agreed, I have much planning to do and have seen as much as I need to"
"Can you do it, Na' Tas? are you sure you can deal with these adventurers?"

Again, I kind of want to have them use each other's names in every single line. "I have seen enough, Na' Tas. Let us go and prepare." "As have I, Raziel. I have much planning to do." But that's just me; if they don't actually talk like that don't change things on my account :smallwink:

I like this storyline; I'm very interested to see where it goes. I also think your pair of fiends make for some fantastic narrators :smallbiggrin: Keep it up!

Winds
2012-06-13, 05:54 PM
In our houserules, a warlock's descendants may gain that power themselves, if they have the alignment and the inclination to put them to use. Lets us use the class without fiddling with exactly how the pact was made. Kalach wants his descendants to have that, if they want it.

As far as the dragon goes, it wasn't clear in character or out whether that dragon was a form of Asmodeus or a servant. I wanted Kalach's pact to be with a dragon, the DM and I settled on a fiendish dragon. Who later turned out not to be a dragon at all. More on that later.

Also...arg, no more whip! Me work!

Next: We forget to mention vital information, then attend a party.

SanguisAevum
2012-06-14, 07:21 AM
@Dr Bwaa

My thanks for the excellent feedback. I will take it on board and make some changes.


the in-character reason for them telling each other things that they can both see and recognise is unclear

The idea was to try to convey that they are simply noting to each other (and perhaps confirming with each other) the capabilities of the two casters currently holding their own against the demon packs, without really being concerned by the display itself, or by the fact the display is effectively destroying some of the army. That obviously didn't really come across... ill try to change it round a bit. Also, there is a link into the name calling here... the pair like to try to call each other by name as often as possible (see below) they very rarely speak without using names, so I guess I need to make that clearer too.


Comments re class information

Its a fair point, the intent was to show that the duo have plenty of experience when it comes to adventurers and could recognise straight away what they were dealing with once a display of PC power had been given. I will try to limit that in future, as what you say about Meta information makes sense.



Comments RE the name calling

I did actually intend for them to use each others names constantly (i obviously missed several opportunities to do so!)

It was a particular character "quirk" that i came up with for this duo. My rationalisation (other than it was just something to endear them as memorable characters) is that amongst all fiend-kind, a name is a powerful thing... these two have been a team for a LONG time and the constant use of names is both a reminder of the power that each of them has over the other, and of the implicit trust they have in each other because of that very fact. In effect... they are both asserting dominance, AND accepting subservience with each other at the same time, almost every time they speak.

Am glad you picked up on it, as it was intentional.

And, we will be returning to my game next week following a short break for me to do some playing in one of the other guy's campaigns. So no doubt the story will continue... though likely not in the direction I envisage... given my player's sometimes erratic decisions :)

Winds
2012-06-17, 09:46 PM
Second page? TRAVESTY! I must repair this at once!

Zombies, and the tower in the sky


These towers are such problems.

We reached another town today. The compass pointed us to behind a house. No tower. We paced around the yard. It wasn't invisible. Finally, we turned the compass. The needle pointed straight up.

I hate bloody wizards.

Elle says this town has an 'air force base'. Whatever that means, she thinks we can get access to flight there. So, off we went.

On the way, we got shot. Or, our car did. An old man shot our car because the noise from the car would attract the zombies. So stupid...

And then we stood and talked. At gunpoint. It comes as no surprise that a bunch of zombies had gathered by the time we got away. We would have tried to save that old man, but...there were way too many of them. Even trying to leave, the sheer number of them wrecked our car.

We killed dozens of them, but they got the drop on us. Or rather, dropped the car on us. Outsmarted by zombies, really...that's just embarrassing...Thankfully, the only one hurt was Kaldrig.

We ran for it, and managed to find a building where a man was holed up. We got him to let us in. Barely. His name is Staff Sargent Anderson. He's a 'pilot' and he has a flying car. Plane. Oh good, a third meaning of that word. Anyway, we got him to give us a ride to the tower on his way to...well, I don't think he cares, other than needing to find somewhere not filled with zombies.


Maybe we should have mentioned the guardian before it roared at us, though it didn't cause any problem.

The guardian was a gold dragon. He agreed to let us through without incident.

The usual three puzzles. The towers that can touch the realms of the divine whether or not their ruler wants, and they all have the same 'TITHE' puzzle, descending platform with simulacrum butler...even when that should drop us right out of the tower...

Wait, so why are they tower-shaped? I mean, Elle says they weren't there before the zombies started showing up...so what's the point of an invisible, untouchable tower that doesn't actually have an inside? I mean, if they're not usually detectable, it couldn't be to show off...unless...

No. No point. We're about to go through the challenge portal, anyway.

SanguisAevum
2012-06-18, 04:52 AM
I am by no means an expert, but I enjoyed your snippet, so here are some thoughts for you Dr Bwaa.



and my ears hiss with silence.
Love this, it's a strange concept but I think we all know what it feels like, I wouldn't have been able to describe that particular phenomenon as well as this. Kudos



My breath thunders in my ears
Same again :)



Beside it, a very tall, robed figure stands silhouetted darkest black against the relentless, unnatural light
This might just be me... but I cant seem to read this line right. I KNOW what your trying to say and the image of what you are conveying is clear in my mind, but it just doesn't read right to me. I think its because the word "silhouetted" already suggests the blackness of the figure against the bright light and the "darkest black" section doesn't need to be there according to my brain.
"Beside it, a very tall, robed figure stands silhouetted against the relentless, unnatural light" - reads far better to my mind, whilst suggesting the exact same thing.



Its voice is the din of battle; the crack of magic; the howl of wind, and I grimace unflinchingly at the assault. I stare it down, glaring at its featureless face.
I had difficulty with this as well. Again I get a sense of what your trying to convey, but I find it hard to relate the concepts to a voice, especially since my head tells me this is an inevitable, and I kind of expect a hollow, robotic voice for some reason. Probably just me though :) The "voice like thunder" lines are used a lot (even by me) and I always struggle with them even when I use them myself. Plus... grimacing and staring it down at the same time?




Nim, with nowhere to hide in the endless white expanse and without an instrument to play, pulls a knife from his belt and begins tossing it idly, two, three, four times. I grit my teeth, eyes flickering between him and the menacing construct, about to answer for him when he finally responds. “Yeah, that’s me.”
Hehe, I like Nim, this gets his character across very well :) Simple, but effective.




“Yes. Has the previous bearer of the title ‘Nocturne’ died on this plane?”
This doesn't read quite right to me.... it doesn't seem to fit with the "precise" way this thing speaks. It feels as though it should be more... "clinical" and "factual" like the rest of it's dialogue.
“Affirmative. Did the previous bearer of the title ‘Nocturne’ expire on this plane of existence?”



At that, I take two steps forward, only an arm’s length from the machine. This close, I can feel the heat coming off it, and I shout up to its face as it looks past me, motionless. “Absolutely not! I don’t care what promise the old Nocturne made, but we didn’t ask for these titles, and Nim is not beholden to you!” It continues to stare at Nim, over my head.

“I told you he’s not responsible for some oath the old Nocturne made five hundred years ago! If you want him, you’re going to have to go through me!” I lower my stance, shield at the ready, wondering if this thing is made of steel or some stronger metal, but knowing that Honor Bound will cut it just the same. It is still, silent, for several moments. “Did you hear me, you metal thug?”

There is a cold feeling in my head and my vision shifts, not fuzzy but painfully sharp, as everything comes into the most perfect focus all at once, and I suddenly realize that I can’t move. Not a muscle, not a twitch. I can’t breathe; I can’t look around. In perfect, daggerlike clarity I hear the metallic screech of the thing’s speech again.

“I do not intend to execute your companions, but I will do so if I must. Do you, as the new bearer of the title ‘Nocturne’, accept full and complete responsibility for your predecessor’s oath?”
I love how it is just dismissing the rest. Totally focused on it's primary objective, again, very clinical. And somewhat disconcerting.


All in all, was a great scene.

Dr Bwaa
2012-06-18, 10:57 AM
@Sanguis
Thanks for the feedback!! I'm glad you enjoyed it; I made some adjustments to clarify/improve a couple of things.

And yes, my DM is a sadistic bastard sometimes (we've just left a heavily undead-infested area of the world, and now there are Inevitables who only want to deal with the Rogue/Bard? Pure Evil), but he has a wonderful gift for storytelling. It'll probably take me forever, but I fully intend to write up this entire campaign. Then again, I still have (at least) eleven more chapters of this session to write, so I'll probably just focus on that for now :smalltongue: Again, thanks so much for the feedback!

@Winds

Or rather, dropped the car on us.

Is this... literal? If so, how? :smalleek: And if not, I don't understand the metaphor.


Outsmarted by zombies, really...that's just embarrassing...

Ahahahaha. Also, the old guy with the shotgun (I'm just guessing here) is a great "random encounter". And it certainly feeds Kalach's frustrations about the whole situation, as well :smallbiggrin:


He's a 'pilot' and he has a flying car. Plane. Oh good, a third meaning of that word.

The not-quite-ooc-ness of this is great as always. It would really be a lot more convenient if we just made ornithopters instead of fixed-wing aircraft.


Maybe we should have mentioned the guardian before it roared at us, though it didn't cause any problem.

This is kind of weird. Mentioned to Anderson, I assume? And I'm surprised there's no reaction from him (Anderson) when a freakin' dragon shows up--jaded by zombies or not, it doesn't seem likely he's seen dragons before. And if he has, I want to hear about it!


unless...

No. No point. We're about to go through the challenge portal, anyway.

I like this; very in keeping with Kalach's no-I-don't-care-just-get-this-over-with attitude toward the whole thing. Fun snippet as always (though I'm still waiting for "We forget to mention vital information, then attend a party." :smallbiggrin:

Winds
2012-06-18, 03:05 PM
Is this... literal? If so, how? :smalleek: And if not, I don't understand the metaphor.

Yes, it is. We used the car as cover/a wall, and the zombies oushed it over on us. Kaldrig and Logrim got caught under it, poor sods.




Ahahahaha. Also, the old guy with the shotgun (I'm just guessing here) is a great "random encounter". And it certainly feeds Kalach's frustrations about the whole situation, as well :smallbiggrin:

Revolver. A shotgun would have been so much better, though.




This is kind of weird. Mentioned to Anderson, I assume? And I'm surprised there's no reaction from him (Anderson) when a freakin' dragon shows up--jaded by zombies or not, it doesn't seem likely he's seen dragons before. And if he has, I want to hear about it!

Yes, mentioned to Anderson. That would be the 'forgot to mention' from the preview. Anderson was freaking out pretty badly, but they were toobusy gearing up for fight/diplomacy/runforit to make much of it.


Anyway, I should comment on yours, shouldn't I?

An interesting turn of events, and fairly well written, though I agree with Sanuis about some of the word choice. I look forward to seeing how this develops.

Lord_Gareth
2012-06-21, 11:44 AM
So, I don't have the time to write it right now, but soon you'll be seeing a Star Wars snippet from me ^_^

Dr Bwaa
2012-06-21, 06:22 PM
Thanks Winds! I'm having trouble finding ways to keep the next scene interesting, but hopefully I'll be able to get it done this weekend. Or maybe I'll just decide that I no longer care about this scene and just dump it unceremoniously into the forum and move on so we can get to more of the plot. Who knows??

And Gareth: DO WANT.

Winds
2012-06-26, 11:06 AM
Second page again? For shame.

I can fix this with science! Or another snippet. Y'know, whatever works.


Foul play, sir!





*Several pages have been torn out of the journal*

The portals led to a mansion, wherein a number of people have been invited to search for one million dollars. But even Elle thinks that's fishy, and that sense is confirmed by the fact that we are locked in until someone finds it.

After meeting the seven others in the mansion, we started moving though the mansion. A man named Willum approached me-to make an alliance, I thought-but left in disgust when I said I didn't care about the money. We had other concerns, though. Kaldrig collapsed, and we couldn't wake him. And of course, he was the only one of us with any skill at healing.

And then we heard a scream. One of the two women had come across a body-that of a wanderer that someone mentioned had been a soldier. I ended up being blamed-Willum had stolen my journal and handed it to someone else to read. These people don't believe in magic, which is strange to me. Each of them has some form of magic item on them, but portals to other realms are beyond their belief? Later, I took a closer look at my journal and found he had written in another section. And somehow, the want-to-be investigator thought it had been my writing. Honestly. It should have been obvious by then, but I didn't see the addition until later.

So it went. The infuriating man decided that we would go in groups-and split up our party. Despite the fact that the murderer used a knife and none of us have one. The fool.

The only real surprise left was Kaldrig-he became a zombie while we weren't looking. Somehow. He attacked the man Elle and Kol were with, and they shot him down.

So in the end, the killer took one more person by surprise...but then that fool detective noticed that the knife had been cleaned on the corpse. Willum being the only one with a knife and no alibi, attacked and was captured. Time stopped, and we left. We split up-Elle and Logrim went to make sure Anderson was ready to go, while Kol and I brought down the tower, taking a satchel that was left with the pedestal.

Wait a minute. How did Willum know I had a journal with me? Maybe I should have asked...

Dr Bwaa
2012-07-02, 04:08 PM
@Winds

*Several pages have been torn out of the journal*

So how close to caught-up are you now? :smallwink:


one million dollars.

A couple things bugged me about this: first, has it really been long enough in the "real" world that dollars are normal parlance by now? Also, it seems to me that anyone from a D&D world is not going to have even the slightest sense of what a "million" is--what is there to approach that kind of number for reference? Some mention here of how that's either an unimaginable sum, or else "that's apparently a lot of wealth", would go a long way.


The only real surprise left was Kaldrig-he became a zombie while we weren't looking.

Bwuh?


Time stopped, and we left.

I can't picture what's going on here. How do you leave when time stops? For that matter, how do you notice time stopping at all?

I like this one--I like the scenario, and as always Kalach's unbelievably jaded attitude toward the whole thing, though I think some more explicitly sarcastic/exasperated statements, just one maybe, like at the end when "OH LOOK WE CAUGHT THE BAD GUY THEN EVERYTHING STOPS WE WON YAY", would go a long way toward making it clearer that the lack of detail is due to the writer being fed up with the whole thing.


I am the worst at actually finishing my own stuff to a reasonably-satisfactory degree. THE WORST. Part 5 of the Joseph's Gap session is now with my beta, so I'll be posting that within the next couple days (if I don't, I'll... I don't know. Think of something suitably penance-ish and say I'll do that).

And everyone else who hasn't been posting here nearly as often as I want you to: for shame!

Kaveman26
2012-07-03, 08:31 AM
I have been writing up a campaign recap (The Big One) and in the course of doing so I alluded to a character's background and his visit to a Giant city. With encouragement to write something up more in the style of these snippets I put the following together.

A Matter of Scale:

Marilius had spent nearly three weeks in the city of New Jotun and he could still not shake the constant feeling of being cold. A sanctuary where all races of giant could meet and debate without fear of violence, it was not meant for human comfort. Everything was built too large for the average man's eye. No matter how warm the air, everything felt cold. He constantly felt himself pulling his sable cloak tighter around himself.

There was a single place where he found a degree of warmth and could find enjoyment. Korlwyn was a prominent Cloud Giant Ambassador and once famed warrior. It was said that he had the heads of five black dragons mounted on his trophy room walls, a story that Marilius himself had told multiple times. Korlwyn had personally welcomed him to the city and instructed the otherwise giants-only city to greet him with open arms and eager ears. Marilius considered himself a natural storyteller and his tales of bravery and songs of infedility had resonated with the giant culture. He almost felt the smallest twinge of guilt in seducing Korlwyn's daughter. The majority of Cloud Giants had silver hair and blue eyes, she was a prize amongst her own kind for she had eyes green as emeralds and hair like spun gold. He knew it was little more than a dalliance, he was simply different from her usual suitors and that gave him all the edge he needed.

There first night was awkward. He had come to her chambers for a private show and the fire burning in her hearth was more akin to a burning house from his perspective. He had performed songs, ballads, and even juggled a flurry of daggers none of which seemed to impress her. On a whim he made an off hand comment about overcoming a reluctant maiden in a hayloft and her attention and demeanor shifted. She was easily twice his height and he was considered well above average height. It was her eyes that won him over. He had long suspected that few people took the time to really look at her and pace attention. THe fact that she always kept her eyes facing down was to him not so much shyness as a warning sign. Despite her remarkable beauty he had reasoned out that she was in fact insecure. To his benefit he ALWAYS had to look up, and this afforded him knowledge that few of her other suitors would have had the presence of thought to explore. He knew that her shining green eyes held flecks of sapphire.

"Princess" he said forlornly, a title only he applied " I could lose myself in the oceans of purest green that are your eyes, and take solace in finding myself again in the flecks of blue"

"You noticed" she said shocked " I don't know how seeing as how I have barely made eye contact"

"I notice all things beautiful and since arriving in New Jotun I have noticed only you"

There comes a moment in picking a lock, or cutting the wire on a trap or even when reading a rune on an ancient wall, when one knows This is It. In that moment he knew she was his. Unfortunately there was a certain matter of perspective. Several minutes of embarrasment later they paused and realized that certain things were not meant to be. Marilius refused to show defeat and in a flash of inspiration he boldly wrote a note to the Ambassador's butler...a simple request that made all the difference.

The Ambassador's daughter requests two potions from the larder. Please bring with haste a potion of Enlarge Person and a Potion of Reduce Person.

Winds
2012-07-03, 09:24 PM
So how close to caught-up are you now? :smallwink:

Not even close. I think we were level 6 or so at this point...we're 15, now...




A couple things bugged me about this: first, has it really been long enough in the "real" world that dollars are normal parlance by now? Also, it seems to me that anyone from a D&D world is not going to have even the slightest sense of what a "million" is--what is there to approach that kind of number for reference? Some mention here of how that's either an unimaginable sum, or else "that's apparently a lot of wealth", would go a long way.

Noted.




Bwuh?

OOC, we knew it was coming. He had symptoms that were never quite enough for anyone to know something was actually wrong...not that we could have healed him at that point, anyway.




I can't picture what's going on here. How do you leave when time stops? For that matter, how do you notice time stopping at all?

Quite right. To be more clear, the 'actors' of that scenario were frozen, and a door back to the main room opened for us.


@Kaveman

An encouraging start. You seem to be in your character's head pretty well, and your writing is good. I look forward to more.

Dr Bwaa
2012-07-05, 11:01 AM
@Kaveman26

He constantly felt himself pulling his sable cloak tighter around himself.

This repeated "himself" just bugs me for whatever reason. Something like "he found himself constantly pulling his sable cloak tighter around his shoulders" might flow a little better.


Korlwyn had personally welcomed him to the city and instructed the otherwise giants-only city to greet him with open arms and eager ears. Marilius...almost felt the smallest twinge of guilt in seducing Korlwyn's daughter.

Oh... oh my...


There first night was awkward.

"Their"


the fire burning in her hearth was more akin to a burning house from his perspective.

This sense of scale is great.


On a whim he made an off hand comment about overcoming a reluctant maiden in a hayloft and her attention and demeanor shifted. She was easily twice his height and he was considered well above average height. It was her eyes that won him over.

Woah wait what? In one sentence, we go from her aggressive posture at his inopportune comment to "her eyes won him over"? What happened to her aggression. This is a jarring transition.


few people took the time to really look at her and pace attention.

'Pay', presumably? It seems to me your brain was trying to squeeze "face" into this sentence, as well :smallsmile:


"I notice all things beautiful and since arriving in New Jotun I have noticed only you."

Very smooth (needs a comma after 'beautiful' though).


The Ambassador's daughter requests two potions from the larder. Please bring with haste a potion of Enlarge Person and a Potion of Reduce Person.

Well... I guess that answers that question!

I liked this snippet a bunch. The looking-up/looking-down thing felt a little awkward--not that I didn't get what was going on, just that it seemed kind of forced. The things you did to convery scale and the feel of the Cloud Giants' palace are very well-done. The not-quite-tongue-in-cheek narrative style is very fitting, as well--it meshes well with the actual subject matter, and with Marilius' personality. If there's more to this little excursion to New Jotun (or anything else from your campaigns for that matter), I'd definitely like to hear it!


@Winds
Oh jeez. Well good luck catching up, then! :smallbiggrin:

SleepyShadow
2012-07-07, 04:20 PM
Hey all, I've got a lot of catching up to do on the snippets, it seems. After quite a lengthy hiatus, the group has finally returned to gaming. So without further ado, here comes our glorious shenanigans once again!


The Tempestuous Trio
Igmar sneered coldly beneath her cowl as the three greenhorns made their way across the bridge toward her. They looked dazed, confused, and thoroughly miserable. Perfect clay to be molded.

"I see you have finally decided to wake up," the woman said coldly. "Do you remember your names, or should I just assign you numbers so I can keep you straight?"

"My name is Jerea," answered the first to cross the bridge.

Jerea was a tall, spry young woman with short cropped blonde hair and pale skin. She was garbed in a white and blue tunic and soft brown boots. She smiled warmly at Igmar as her bright blue eyes cast about the area.

"You said that we'd be given gear soon, right?" Jerea asked.

"After introductions," Igmar replied quickly.

"Hi everyone, my name is Saitomi," said a lanky young man.

Saitomi was a ruddy skinned youth with long black hair and dark eyes. He was garbed in a black leather jerkin, matching trousers, and tall black boots. Igmar nodded to him curtly, then turned her eyes on the third member of the group.

"My name is Ree Aper," the cross-looking young woman said. "I hate starting at level one ..."

"Get over it," Igmar grumbled. "Your appearance please."

"Oh, right," Ree said. "Here, you can read it."

Igmar sighed and rolled her eyes, then stammered incoherently for a moment. She stomped her foot angrily and pointed a long finger at Ree.

"Really?" she snapped. "THAT is what you look like?"

"Yep," Ree answered smugly.

"Black hair," Igmar listed off, "skanky dress. Big boobs."

"I hate low level game play," Ree said. "If I survive past level five I'll bother with more detail."

"Whatever," Igmar grumbled. "Anyway, the three of you are here because you are in need of rehabilitation. You three were badly wounded in the last war, and your memories taken from you."

"Wait, we're war veterans and we're level one?" Ree questioned suspiciously.

"Your memories and experiences were taken from you," Igmar repeated. "Get it?"

A blank look crossed Ree's face for a moment, then she nodded in understanding. Satisfied, Igmar continued.

"There will be a ship departing for the mainland in three days time," Igmar said. "Why not enjoy your stay for a while? I guarantee that you will find plenty to keep you busy until the ship is ready."

"Do we have to pay for our boat fares?" Jerea asked.

"No," Igmar answered. "Your passage has already been paid for."

"By whom?" Ree questioned.

"I cannot reveal that information to you," Igmar said cryptically. "However, I can provide each of you with a weapon. Wild animals and other dangers are not unknown on this little island, so it would be wise to arm yourself. What weapon would you like?"

"I want a sword, please," Saitomi replied brightly.

Igmar nodded, reached into a small black bag tied to her belt, and withdrew a thick longsword far too large to be contained in such a small bag. Saitomi took the blade from her with wonder in his eyes.

"I think I'll be creative," Jerea laughed. "I'll take a ... um ... oh, I'll take a maul."

"What's that?" Ree asked quietly.

"It's like a big hammer, I think," Jerea whispered.

Igmar nodded and procured a massive stone mallet from her magical bag and handed it to Jerea. Ree folded her arms over her chest and nodded toward Igmar's bag.

"I want that," Ree said, indicating the bag.

"No," Igmar said flatly.

"Bah, fine ... I'll take a dagger, I guess," Ree muttered. "I don't plan on attacking anyway."

"You don't?" Saitomi asked concernedly.

"Of course not. I'm a sorcerer," Ree answered.

Igmar sighed and procured a long black knife from her bag. Ree shrugged and put the knife in her belt. After sheathing his blade, Saitomi grabbed Ree and Jerea by the hand.

"Come on," he said excitedly. "Let's go exploring!"

Saitomi pulled them along behind him, ignoring their protests. Igmar watched as they ran off into the distance. She laughed coldly when she saw what direction they were going.

"Those fools are headed right for the watchtower," she murmured. "All according to plan."

Kymme
2012-07-08, 12:23 AM
This is my first snippet, I guess. Please give me an honest critique, but don't be brutal, please. :smallfrown: I'm new at this.



The Traitor, Part 1:
Thorek Hardstriker brought down his Waraxe heavily into the orc’s shoulder, and heard the satisfying crack of bone and squeal of pain as the orc fell to the churned sand. Just after, he felt a shockwave travel through his shield and up is arm. It seemed another orc had rushed over its comrade and launched a blow at him. Instinctively, he eyes shifted to look up at it as he raised his shield and brought his Waraxe back over his shoulder. The orc growling at him looked indistinguishable from the other fifty or so attacking his platoon. It had a pig-like face hidden under a battered helmet, and menacingly brandished a wooden plank, driven through with rusty nails.

Thorek sprang up, leaping up a full foot, rising to about eye level to the orc before bringing his Waraxe down and hacking into the savage’s unprotected neck. The monster hit the ground dead. Thorek went back into his combat stance, and tensed every muscle of his stocky body to launch an attack at the next orc to step in front of him. The small warband his platoon was fighting had tried to sneak through the southern passes to launch a surprise attack on the village of Screeside, Thorek’s home.

What the orc warparty hadn’t counted on was that the barren passes were guarded by a platoon of Dwarven militiamen: a wall of sharp steel and stout hearts. The warband had decided to charge the Dwarven line, and the current melee was the result.

Thorek sprang again, this time beheading an orc warrior. He slid his red stained axe blade through the soft sand, cleaning it. Then brought it back over his shoulder and tensed his body again. The next orc to charge him was carrying a rusting longsword, gripping it in two hands. He sprang up to chop into his new opponent, but as he brought down his Waraxe, the orc casually deflected it away and, while Thorek was off-balance, swung it’s sword down at him. Thorek just managed to get his shield in the right place to soften the blow, but not by much. The sword slammed into his shoulder. Thorek’s chain shirt prevented it from actually cutting into him, but the force behind the blow was still there, and Thorek gritted his teeth and choked back a sob as he felt his collar bone break.

As the orc raised its sword back over its head, howling triumphantly, Thorek made his move. He ignored the searing pain in his shoulder and launched and uppercut at the orc’s unarmored armpit. He heard the satisfying sound of flesh tearing and stepped back as the orc crumpled to the ground.
Then, Thorek heard a new sound over the raucous din of battle. An earsplitting roar echoed from the back of the orc ranks. The warriors facing him parted, and a grotesque being stomped through their ranks. An Ogre, Thorek thought. Figures.

Ogres are savage creatures, living in small tribes in the flatlands. Occasionally, an orc tribe would capture an ogre and use it as a beast of war. The Ogre dwarfed the orcs around it, whom in turn dwarfed the Dwarves around them. It was a pale green color, with a heavily muscled frame. The Ogre wore nothing, save a loin cloth and two spiked shoulder plates held onto its torso by two straps. A massive club, covered in barbed hooks and jagged spikes, was clenched in the brute’s hands.

Then, another roar ripped its way out of the beast’s throat. With one swing of its mighty warclub, it cleaved a semi-circle out of the Dwarven line, sending the poor souls, screaming, into the air. Thorek stood, appalled. Then, with hatred for the Ogre burning in his eyes, he charged.

The Ogre spotted him, and swung his club in a downward arc, intersecting Thorek’s path. Thorek sprung to the side, spun around its legs, and, holding his Waraxe in both hands, planted it in the back of the Ogre’s knee.

The brute let out a scream of pain and fell to his knees.

Thorek, with a smirk, proceeded to remove his Waraxe, and then promptly lodge it in the Ogre's head. He smiled as he looked upon his fallen foe. Then, he felt a burning pain in his chest. Thorek stared, confused, at the blade that had seemingly sprouted from right where his heart should be. Then, the world went dark.

Lord_Gareth
2012-07-09, 12:38 PM
Justice is Dead
We'd tracked the Erinyes to the Cathedral of the Invincible Sun, in Shatterdown. There were five of us - Sir Jorin Shieldheart (a paladin in service to St. Cuthbert of the Cudgel), Brother Gentlefist (a cleric of Kord), the illustrious Lady Wandholm (a bard of noble birth and bearing), a nervous elf that gave his name only as Butterknife (with very little explanation thereof, though Sir Jorin seemed to know something about him that the rest of us did not) and myself, Koalin Indigo, a sorcerer of some small fame.

We had no idea what we were in for when we opened the front door.

The Pelorian altar had been desecrated with the blood of a dozen murdered priests. The devil stood at the head of the room, impassively observing a lay member of the church that was strangling to death as she swung from a noose. The Erinyes body was splattered with gore, and I am ashamed to admit that I nearly retched right there - the stench was overpowering.

Brother Gentlefist raised his mace and opened his lips to begin a spell when the devil turned suddenly, rimmed in sickly red light that guttered and spat. The radiance leapt from her outstretched hand and impacted us, scrabbling at our minds and trying to freeze us in place. I barely fought it off, but was horrified to see that aside from myself, only Sir Jorin was staggering out of the light.

"Come and get me," the devil hissed, and she spread her greasy wings wide and took to the air in a mighty leap, landing in the rafters of the cathedral.

I began a spell as Sir Jorin sprinted past me, unsheating his sword to save the devil's latest victim. He cut her down just as I finished my magic, striking at the she-devil with an orb of shrieking sound. The impact made her ears bleed. I was repaid for my efforts with a flaming arrow to the shoulder, and the searing impact made my eyes water and a blossom of pain bloom in my flesh.

Jorin began climbing the tapestries while I attempted another spell, but they tore beneath his fingers. My magics fizzled against some kind of protection on the she-witch, but I drank a potion and felt its power settle over me just before she loosed her second arrow, and it shattered against me. Jorin leapt onto the statue of Pelor and climbed grimly, sword in one hand and prayers on his lips.

Spells and arrows flew and traded as the Erinyes and I jockeyed for advantage and Jorin ascended steadily. Just as he reached the rafters, the devil spared him a glance - and vanished as a cloud of darkness descended over the church, hovering just above my face and devouring all light.

Wasting no time, I turned to the paralyzed form of Lady Wandholm and began rummaging through her scroll cases until I found what I was looking for - a scroll of banishment that would send the devil back to the Nine Hells. I looked up and waited for the darkness to vanish.

And vanish it did. Jorin had not moved, not wanting to risk falling from the rafters, but the Erinyes had totally changed her position. Jorin sprinted after her, sword raised, and realized the trap far too late - he cut left in order to get a better approach on the devil and fell through an illusory wooden beam. It was thirty feet to the stone floor, and he landed with enough impact to shatter flagstones.

I opened the scroll and read desperately, and the look of horror on the she-devil's face was beyond compare. Just as she opened her mouth to screech something, the spell was completed and she vanished with a small clap of displaced air.

Jorin picked himself up, bleeding in several places. The holy symbol on his breastplate was scratched and marred, and his helmet was so badly dented that all he could do was throw it away, which he did. Before I could ask him how badly he was hurt, he seized the holy symbol from around his neck and threw it to the ground.

Sir Jorin plunged his blade into the soft silver, and after the sword wedged between two flagstones, he snapped the blade in half.

"What are you doing?" I cried out, shocked and stunned. Without a word, he began walking past me, stripping off parts of his armor as he went.

"I'm done," he murmured as he strode past the group. "I quit. I'm tired of fighting evil with my hands tied behind my back, and I refuse to become like it in order to oppose it."

"What about justice? What about your vows?"

He turned on me, fire in his eyes, and snarled, "Tell my order that justice is dead."

He walked out without a further word, and that's the last I ever saw of him.

Dr Bwaa
2012-07-09, 06:02 PM
Hey guess what? Guess who still hasn't managed to get his next chapter done! CORRECT, IT IS ME. YOU GET A CONGRATULATION. JUST ONE. Though in this case it's my beta's fault for being slow to edit (stupid lazy beta working 70 hours a week on things that aren't my snippets. Gawd). So while you all anxiously (lol) await my next chapter, here's a big pile of comments! Good to see everyone; keep giving me more stuff to read that isn't my own drivel, please! :smallbiggrin:



@SleepyShadow
Glad you've returned! No more in Ravenloft? :smallsigh: I suppose some things are too good to last.
On to the comments!


"Black hair," Igmar listed off, "skanky dress. Big boobs."

"I hate low level game play," Ree said. "If I survive past level five I'll bother with more detail."

hehehehe. Awesome. Some things never change, do they--I'd missed your great semi-ooc characterization of these guys' actions. This is a great way to put together your introductions of the characters; I like it a lot(from an in-snippet and out-of-snippet perspective).


"I cannot reveal that information to you," Igmar said cryptically.

I feel like "cryptically" can't really be used this way effectively. If someone is being cryptic with their speech, it should be obvious from the things they are saying, not the manner in which they say it. Not a huge issue obviously, but it just stuck out a bit to me.


"What's that?" Ree asked quietly.

"It's like a big hammer, I think," Jerea whispered.

hahaha. awesome. I like the picture of them conspiring about trivial things that should be obvious (asking for a maul when you don't know what it is; perfect) while Igmar is rummaging in the bag of holding for a Maul of some description.


Igmar sighed and procured a long black knife from her bag.

With Ree saying outright she doesn't plan to use it, I'm hoping this dagger is actually super gosu (or alternately cursed) and it takes them many levels to find out about it :smalltongue:

I liked this snippet quite a bit; glad to have you back! I'm looking forward to seeing what happens in this campaign--and whose eyes we'll be viewing it through. It doesn't seem obvious where you'd get an NPC to stick with them--but then again, it's fun to see the one-off NPCs who live only long enough to tell the tales of the heroic adventurers destroying everything in their path, too :smallbiggrin:


@Kymme
Welcome! I don't know if I've ever been what I'd call "brutal" in my critiques, but I certainly don't see any reason to start here! If you'd like me to focus my critique more or less on different aspects of your snippets (spelling/grammar, phrasing/clarity, or broader plot/thematic considerations), let me know!


It seemed another orc had rushed over its comrade and launched a blow at him. Instinctively, he eyes shifted to look up at it as he raised his shield and brought his Waraxe back over his shoulder.

I have a couple things to mention here--first, I see what you're doing--the "seeming" serves to dismiss the importance of what comes next; that is, from Thorek's viewpoint, we get "oh, it seems someone else is attacking me. How droll." It reads a little awkwardly from the third-person narrator, though--this narrator shouldn't be so much affected by Thorek's thoughts, and knows exactly what's going on--so there's no reason for anything to "seem" to happen from this narrative viewpoint.

There's also a bit of temporal confusion, or at least I'm confused. Thorek doesn't seem to raise his shield until after he's struck, but apparently he wasn't actually harmed--did the orc just attack his shield for some reason?


Thorek sprang up, leaping up a full foot, rising to about eye level to the orc

This feels a little overlong--you're saying "he jumped" in one form or another three times right in a row. I do love that you've got him jumping "a full foot!", which wouldn't be that impressive for a human, but as Thorek's a Dwarf... It might be clearer if you mention that fact before this sentence, though. As far as the repetetiveness goes, I think if you take out a few words and one of the commas, it'll read much more smoothly (something like "Thorek sprang up, leaping to nearly the orc's eye level.").


Thorek went back into his combat stance

This is a great opportunity to give some description of Thorek--so far all the reader knows is that he has a waraxe and a shield. A description of what this warrior looks like with his game face on (rather than just being "in his combat stance") will go a long way right here.


What the orc warparty hadn’t counted on was

This is a great phrase for this sort of expository paragraph, to make it more active. It'll be even more effective if you preface it with something that suggests what the warparty was expecting, especially since you've got an omniscient narrator. "...launch a surprise attack on the village of Screeside, Thorek’s home. They'd poured into the passes just before dawn, already savoring the cries of their enemies' women. What they hadn't counted on..."


Thorek just managed to get his shield in the right place to soften the blow, but not by much. The sword slammed into his shoulder. Thorek’s chain shirt prevented it from actually cutting into him, but the force behind the blow was still there, and Thorek gritted his teeth and choked back a sob as he felt his collar bone break.

This feels kind of mechanical--that is, my attention has suddenly been drawn to the mechanics driving the game, which breaks the story's feel a bit. This is, frankly, one of the hardest parts of writing these snippets--it is a game, but the less the reader knows about that, the better (though some people here *cough*sleepyshadow*cough* have taken it pretty far in the opposite direction, which is fun too). I think a bunch of this paragraph--the whole sentence with the chain shirt for sure--could be replaced with a more vivid description of the the blow to his shoulder; less the circumstances surrounding it (does that make sense?). We already know he kind of got his shield in there, and the fact that he didn't get cut is fairly inconsquential. What we need to know is that he screwed up and got hit really damn hard.

...Also, ow.


a grotesque being stomped through their ranks.

This is very good (personally I think it's never too cliche for the Big Super Monster to crush one of the normal mooks on its way toward the Hero, but maybe that's just me).


The Ogre dwarfed the orcs around it, whom in turn dwarfed the Dwarves around them. It was a pale green color, with a heavily muscled frame. The Ogre wore nothing, save a loin cloth and two spiked shoulder plates held onto its torso by two straps. A massive club, covered in barbed hooks and jagged spikes, was clenched in the brute’s hands.

Great description (also lol at "dwarfed the Dwarves"). The history segment at the start of this paragraph is a bit of an interrruption for me, though. I'm craving the description of the Ogre as soon as it's introduced, with a tag at the end about how orcs occasionally manage to capture them, rather than getting "Ogre-history lesson-remember the Ogre?"


The Ogre spotted him, and swung his club in a downward arc, intersecting Thorek’s path. Thorek sprung to the side, spun around its legs, and, holding his Waraxe in both hands, planted it in the back of the Ogre’s knee.

The brute let out a scream of pain and fell to his knees.

Thorek, with a smirk, proceeded to remove his Waraxe, and then promptly lodge it in the Ogre's head.

More! More! As much fun as two-shotting something massive like this is in-game, when reading about it it's much more fun if there's some suspense. Of course, now we're in the realm of your artistic lisence when snippetting your campaigns, but at least put in some more description here. After the great introduction, this fight is begging to be drawn out a bit--especially considering how the snippet ends. Dramatic reversals are more dramatic in direct proportion to how much effort went into the thing that's getting reversed.

Overall, I enjoyed this snippet a lot! You set up and executed the ending very well; I'm definitely hooked. I hope my comments don't come off as too critical even though it turned out to be an awful lot of text; I thought this was a great piece and I want you to make many many many more. :smallbiggrin:


@Gareth

We'd tracked the Erinyes to the Cathedral of the Invincible Sun, in Shatterdown. There were five of us - Sir Jorin Shieldheart (a paladin in service to St. Cuthbert of the Cudgel), Brother Gentlefist (a cleric of Kord), the illustrious Lady Wandholm (a bard of noble birth and bearing), a nervous elf that gave his name only as Butterknife (with very little explanation thereof, though Sir Jorin seemed to know something about him that the rest of us did not) and myself, Koalin Indigo, a sorcerer of some small fame.

We had no idea what we were in for when we opened the front door.

Hell yes. Great opening (great names, too, holy cow).


Pelorian

I've always assumed it was Peloran. Then again, when Harry Potter first came out, I pronounced 'Hermione' as "her-mee-own" so...


a dozen murdered priests.

I'm assuming you can also see the dozen murdered priests, rather than just the blood--a brief mention of them would be nice (by which I mean, suitably horrible).


impassively observing a lay member of the church that was strangling to death as she swung from a noose.

Considering the richness of the preceding passage, this feels a little flat. The "that was" could be taken out altogether--I just think this phrase could be a bit tighter, a little more precise.


The radiance leapt from her outstretched hand and impacted us

I'm having a hard time picturing radiance "impacting" anything.


The impact made her ears bleed.

Again, this is kind of gentle/tame for the scene you're describing. I'd probably tack it on to one of the sentences surrounding it, and amp up the language a notch or two.


the searing impact made my eyes water and a blossom of pain bloom in my flesh.

Same here--I think it's the "made" that's doing it. Let the reader make the connection between getting hit with an arrow and pain blooming in your chest; spelling it out just dilutes the prose.


Jorin began climbing the tapestries while I attempted another spell, but they tore beneath his fingers.

This is a little out-of-order; put Jorin's actions together rather than splitting them up with your spellcasting--keep them in the same sentence if you like, but don't change actors when you're going to be going back to the first one momentarily.


It was thirty feet to the stone floor, and he landed with enough impact to shatter flagstones.

Great trap, and ow. Also, you really like impacts in this snippet, don't you? I don't really think it's the right word here either, sadly (maybe "force", or if you're really wedded to it, "landed so hard the impact shattered the flagstones").


his helmet was so badly dented that all he could do was throw it away, which he did.

That's gonna make it really hard to remove--maybe give us that detail of his spending a minute or two (maybe even with help) to pry it off his head.


Sir Jorin plunged his blade into the soft silver, and after the sword wedged between two flagstones, he snapped the blade in half.

It seems likely that Koalin is attending to-trying to revive the others at this point--it's unclear if they ever get unheld. Whether they recover before the snippet ends or not, I think that's a loose end you should tie up before Sir Jorin forsakes his vows, because you certainly won't want to distract from that moment.

The ending scene is very well written; the dialogue and actions are both fantastic. The only thing that bugs me is--why? There's no hint of his dissatisfaction; no action he clearly wanted to take but couldn't. Why was this the breaking point? What could he have done if he didn't have "[his] hands tied behind [his] back"? This is a really serious situation, but it loses something when the reader has to ask "what was so special about this fight?" Surely he's been hurt worse than this, so it's not that--why did this fight rob him of his conviction?

Overall, fantastic work as usual. I'd complain that you don't post here enough, but given my own rate of production, I can hardly call you out on that. Very nice job; I really really hope there's more from this campaign. I think this was one of my favorite pieces of yours (I'm also still hoping for you to finish Host of a Thousand Princes and your promised Star Wars snippet :smalltongue:)

Kymme
2012-07-09, 10:27 PM
@Kymme
Welcome! I don't know if I've ever been what I'd call "brutal" in my critiques, but I certainly don't see any reason to start here! If you'd like me to focus my critique more or less on different aspects of your snippets (spelling/grammar, phrasing/clarity, or broader plot/thematic considerations), let me know!


*snipped for great justice*


Thank you very much for your critique. It was very helpful in revising part 1. Also, here is the REVIZED Version of part one.


The Traitior, Part 1
Thorek Hardstriker brought down his Waraxe heavily into the orc’s shoulder, and heard the satisfying crack of bone and squeal of pain as the orc fell to the churned sand. Just after, he felt a shockwave travel through his shield and up is arm. Another orc had rushed over its comrade and launched a blow at him. Instinctively, he eyes shifted to look up at it as he raised his shield and brought his Waraxe back over his shoulder. The orc growling at him looked indistinguishable from the other fifty or so attacking his platoon. It had a pig-like face hidden under a battered helmet, and menacingly brandished a wooden plank, driven through with rusty nails.

Thorek sprang up, rising to about eye level to the orc before bringing his Waraxe down and hacking into the savage’s unprotected neck. The monster hit the ground dead. Thorek went back into his combat stance, gnashing his teeth and tensing every muscle of his stocky body to launch an attack at the next orc to step in front of him. Sweat beaded on his hard brow, and his short beard was splattered with several drops of blood. The small warband his platoon was fighting had tried to sneak through the southern passes to launch a surprise attack on the village of Screeside, Thorek’s home. Most of them could almost see the plunder and smell the food that their chief had promised them.

What the orc warparty hadn’t counted on was that the barren passes were guarded by a platoon of Dwarven militiamen: a wall of sharp steel and stout hearts. The warband had decided to charge the Dwarven line, and the current melee was the result.

Thorek sprang again, this time beheading an orc warrior. He slid his red stained axe blade through the soft sand, cleaning it. Then brought it back over his shoulder and tensed his body again. The next orc to charge him was carrying a rusting longsword, gripping it in two hands. He sprang up to chop into his new opponent, but as he brought down his Waraxe, the orc casually deflected it away and, while Thorek was off-balance, swung it’s sword down at him. Thorek just managed to get his shield in the right place to soften the blow, but not by much. The sword slammed into his shoulder. The sword hacked down, sparking off Thorek’s armor. The force behind the blow was still there, however, and Thorek gritted his teeth and choked back a sob as he felt his collar bone break.

As the orc raised its sword back over its head, howling triumphantly, Thorek made his move. He ignored the searing pain in his shoulder and launched and uppercut at the orc’s unarmored armpit. He heard the satisfying sound of flesh tearing and stepped back as the orc crumpled to the ground.

Then, Thorek heard a new sound over the raucous din of battle. An earsplitting roar echoed from the back of the orc ranks. The warriors facing him parted, and a grotesque being stomped through their ranks. An Ogre, Thorek thought. Figures.

The Ogre dwarfed the orcs around it, whom in turn dwarfed the Dwarves around them. It was a pale green color, with a heavily muscled frame. The Ogre wore nothing, save a loin cloth and two spiked shoulder plates held onto its torso by two straps. A massive club, covered in barbed hooks and jagged spikes, was clenched in the brute’s hands. Ogres are savage creatures, living in small tribes in the flatlands. Occasionally, an orc tribe would capture an ogre and use it as a beast of war.

Then, another roar ripped out of the beast’s throat. With one swing of its mighty warclub, it cleaved a semi-circle out of the Dwarven line, sending the poor souls, screaming, into the air. Thorek stood, appalled. Then, with hatred for the Ogre burning in his eyes, he charged.

The Ogre spotted him, and swung his club in a downward arc, intersecting Thorek’s path. Thorek sprung to the side, barely dodging the brutal attack. Showered with sand, Thorek spun around the Ogre’s pillar like legs. The Ogre began to turn around, roaring in frustration.

Thorek had just managed to get in the right spot, the Ogre lifted its foot up, and stomped downward. Thorek leapt back, tossing his shield under the Ogre’s foot. The Ogre stomped down, crushing the shield, and also sending ragged splinters deep into its heel. The Ogre roared in pain, and Thorek made his move. Holding his Waraxe in both hands, he planted it in the back of the Ogre’s knee.

The brute let out a scream of pain and fell to his knees.

Thorek, with a smirk, proceeded to remove his Waraxe, and then promptly lodged it in the Ogres head. He smiled as he looked upon his fallen foe. Then, he felt a burning pain in his chest. Thorek stared, confused, at the blade that had seemingly sprouted from right where his heart should be. Then, the world went dark.

SanguisAevum
2012-07-10, 08:58 AM
Oh, nice updates. I will comment when i have more time.

In the meantime ...


The price of failure
"You... did.... WHAT?"

The final word of the question quickly devolved into a roar that echoed around the audience chamber with a force that shook the stomachs of those witnessing the outburst. The bestial sound was accompanied by a crushing blow that sent Raziel toppling backwards head over heel through the air like a rag doll. With a sickening crack the half fiend landed on the hot stone floor and skidded several more feet before finally coming to rest in a crumpled heap of armour and flesh.

Vast, iron hard muscles rippled in the hind legs of the Wyrm as his great pinions beat once to help him make a short hop that covered the distance between him and the battered warlock. The colossal bulk of the dragon crashed back down to the ground, sending a shockwave through the cavern that shook smaller stalactites loose and brought most of the assembled humanoids to their knees.

Khelendros sat back on his haunches, looking down directly over the dazed form of Raziel. One great claw moved to pin his helpless minion firmly to the ground.

"All I need do, Raziel... is exert a small amount of pressure, and I would no doubt derive a certain amount of satisfaction from watching as your insides spill out through the various openings in your pitifully weak frame. So then... explain to me, insect. Why I should not crush the life from your frail, fleshy body, in order to slightly appease the overwhelming displeasure I currently feel" The measured, low rumble of the dragon's voice had now returned and the statement was delivered in a tone that suggested the answer might not even matter.

Raziel gasped for breath though lightning stabs of pain as Khelendros, in order to reinforce the point, shifted his weight slightly to compress the warlocks already broken body a little further.

"Forgive me... most... glorious and... ancient one... I... wished... only... to please.. you.. my lord of... lords." The bloody words were barely a whisper, spat out through cracked ribs and shattered torso.

"And yet... here we are, worm. My displeasure is clearly evident... and your limp struggles send enticing vibrations up my arm. They stir a hunger in me, Raziel, I feel prey writhe helplessly under my grasp and I begin to wonder what you would taste like... I can always find a new steward... no?" Strings of draconic drool dripped down from his jaws as the lord of the south brought his nose down to sniff lightly at his victim.

"P... please... oh terror... of... the south... I beg.. you... my master." Words were forming slightly easier now, as the Half fiend's body finally began to repair itself. Broken whispers were replaced by short grunts of barely supressed agony as flesh and bone forged new paths through the warlock's broken frame. "My... intent... was not to ... offend the raging... flame... of Tiamat. But merely to... resolve the situation... as quickly as... possible in order... to save your most magnificent... concern" The dragon's head was now dangerously close to Raziel's face. He was beginning to panic as his master's scorching, sulphur smelling breath distorted the terrifying visage through a shimmering haze of heat. Raziel shuddered involuntarily as the great orbs of molten lava that were Khelendros' eyes gazed down upon him hungrily.

The dragon raised his head back up, and with a snort, removed his clawed foot before turning away and walking slowly back to his throne mound. Raziel relaxed slightly and slowly tried to bring his erratic breathing under control whilst keeping the gasps of shock from escaping his lips as his bones continued to rearanged themselves into some semblence of order.

"Make no mistake, vermin" Khelendros began as he paused his progress to snake his head around over his vast fore shoulder. "This is not mercy... nor was i swayed by your pathetic words. This is pragmatism, nothing more... defy me again, and despite your use as a steward, I will be far less restrained. Then you will know the real extent of a dragon's wrath!"

Lord_Gareth
2012-07-10, 09:43 AM
@Bwaa - That game (I was the paladin) was the first one in which the balance issues in 3.5 really struck home for me. The DM wasn't trying to do it - it happened on accident - but our enemies were wizards and clerics, lesser demons and devils, gargoyles, and their ilk. The inability to fly or counter battlefield control persisted for me until that last fight with the Erinyes - a physically weak combatant that was two levels below the party's CR - finally clinched that Paladins couldn't be champions of Good because they sucked too much. I retired the character and made a new one.

Dr Bwaa
2012-07-10, 04:52 PM
Kymme
Good revisions (the first paragraph is still giving me some confusion in the sequence of events though, and there are a couple of typos sprinkled about)! Two things (well one thing, then a question):

First, in the future, it'll be easier for me if you make edits right in the original, then drop a quick post to let people know that you've made changes if you want people to go back and reread. That way I don't have to update the link on the front page every time someone posts a new draft (and it keeps the thread cleaner). Or if you don't care about where the archive link goes, edit however you please, and maybe I'll catch it and change the link, and maybe I won't :smalltongue: For the record, this one I did (so the link on the front page points to this REVIZED version).

Second, the question: would you like me to continue dumping detailed comments on revised drafts, or no? My default is to give revisions another read and comment with general impressions rather than details like I do on a first reading, but if you'd prefer in-depth critique let me know.


@SanguisAevun

The bestial sound was also accompanied by a crushing back handed blow that sent Raziel toppling backwards head over heal through the air like a rag doll.

A couple comments/nitpicks about this sentence. First, I don't think the "also" is needed; it just slows the sentence down, which is not what you want to do when describing something violent. Second & third, "backhanded" is one word, and "heal" should be "heel" :smallsmile:


Vast, iron hard muscled, bulged and rippled in the hind legs of the Wyrm

Woah, slow down a bit. This is too much; too many conflicting descriptions and commas and things and no subject (unless it's a typoed "muscles"). Simplify this sentence a bit for clarity: eg. "Vast iron muscles bugled and rippled in the Wyrm's legs"


The measured, low rumble of the dragon's voice was now returned. And the statement was delivered in a tone that suggested the answer might not even matter.

"had now returned" would be more correct grammatically, I think. And "And" should never be the first word in a sentence :smallwink:


...spat out through cracked ribs and mixed with black, coughed up blood.

We can get that he's coughing up the blood from context (if he's talking "through" the blood, there's pretty much only one reason for that), so rather than describing the blood directly like that, it's cleaner (and dramatic scenes are all about scarcity of prose) to just drop the blood in someplace: "The words were a bloody whisper", etc.


Strings of drool

First: yes, awesome (Khelendros himself is great as well). Second: this is Dragon Drool (TM)! Make it interesting!

This is a great scene; it does justice to how Encounters With Dragons should go. Khelendros is suitably overbearing, arrogant, etc, although I think Raziel could do with more description of the (presumably) painful process of regrowing bones, as well as more continuity--if I remember corrently, when he was talking with his fiendfriend, they used each others' names in basically every sentence. Grovelling before a Dragon (especially one you serve in some capacity) ought to bring out the most impossibly evocative, elaborate praise-names, even--nay, especially when pleading for your life. I'd love to see some "Most Wise and Powerful One" titles thrown around; even better if they end up comprising more of Raziel's speech than what he actually has to say :smallbiggrin:


@Gareth
Ah yes, I know that feeling. I did that to a group once; there were only two PCs (D&D 3.5), a Scout and a Ninja, and I completely accidentally threw four or five consecutive encounters at them full of nothing but oozes, undead, and constructs. And I'm familiar with the other end of it--Claaus is a Fighter/Devoted Defender (bodyguard-type PrC who can defend allies as long as he's within five feet) in a campaign where we mostly fight Wizards and only have access to certain legendary magic items, none of which give him the ability to fly. So he's great at defending the party, as long as there's no battlefield control or arial combat of any sort, at which point he instantly becomes a worthless meatstick. And again, we pretty much only fight Wizards. :smallsigh:

For your snippet, though, I think some foreshadowing of Jorin's decision would make it hit home that much harder, even if you had to tweak the actual fight a touch.

Kymme
2012-07-10, 07:09 PM
Kymme
Good revisions (the first paragraph is still giving me some confusion in the sequence of events though, and there are a couple of typos sprinkled about)! Two things (well one thing, then a question):

First, in the future, it'll be easier for me if you make edits right in the original, then drop a quick post to let people know that you've made changes if you want people to go back and reread. That way I don't have to update the link on the front page every time someone posts a new draft (and it keeps the thread cleaner). Or if you don't care about where the archive link goes, edit however you please, and maybe I'll catch it and change the link, and maybe I won't :smalltongue: For the record, this one I did (so the link on the front page points to this REVIZED version).

Second, the question: would you like me to continue dumping detailed comments on revised drafts, or no? My default is to give revisions another read and comment with general impressions rather than details like I do on a first reading, but if you'd prefer in-depth critique let me know.

Edit the origional, got it! :smallwink:
Thanks for the feedback, as always.
To answer your question, I like the idea of just general impressions after the first draft. So yeah, lets go with that.

EDIT: I got a new snippet for everyone! I wrote this a while ago, and I'd like to know what other people think about it.

The Tale of Daniel the Quick


Alright then, lads, settle down. You’ve all had enough to drink, now go home. What? You want to hear a story? Well then, I’ll tell you a story. This is the tale of the origin of one of the Six Lionhearts, the legendary rogue Daniel the Quick.

Legend has it that the boy who would become Daniel was born an only child to a small family in the harsh wilderness we know as the Giant Downs. He was a small, weak boy, not befitting of a resident of the Downs. Through his childhood, he was bullied and tortured by the other children. His torment ended when he met another boy, named Vhan.

Vhan was an orphan, raised by a harsh master of a fighting style we now know as the Ninefold Way. But I digress, as the story of Vhan is best saved for another time.

Now then, in the Downs, there is a special ritual a child must undertake to pass into adulthood. Daniel, now sixteen, did not go on his journey alone. Instead, he was joined by friends he had made during his childhood: Vhan, his savior from the bullies of his youth; Claire, Vhan’s beautiful paramour, and a cleric of the Water God, Shellissias; and Rosko Eltor, a Halfling magician and talented bard. The four of them set out to fulfill the ritual: spending the whole of ten days within the untamed wilderness of the Giant Downs.

Old one, you may ask, how could Daniel have ever matched up to the group he now traveled with? Make no mistake, young ones, for what Daniel lacked in strength and magical potential, he made up for is speed and cunning. He wielded the weapon of his family: the epee, with great precision and finesse. While Vhan would simply go flailing away with punches and sword-trusts (befitting an apprentice of The Way), Daniel would tumble past the enemy, and deftly stab them from behind.

Anyway, the four of them wandered on for three days before coming to rest at a shallow cave on a hillside, surrounded by bog. The four then bedded down and slept. Then, in the night, a group of the vile Troglodytes emerged from a secret entrance within the cave and attacked!

Now, Troglodytes: they’re some ugly folk, like a lizard crossed with a man, crossed with a skunk. The mere stench of ‘um can reduce a noble warrior to a sickly wreak. Daniel, however, wasn’t a noble warrior. He caught the first whiff of the Trogs, and he quickly tied a scrap of cloth around his face, to muffle the scent. Then he went at the filth things. He ducked around the Trogs’ clumsy swings, and his blade gracefully cut through their scaly hides.

Just as the fight seemed won, one of the braver Trogs grabbed Daniel in a bear hug. Unfortunately, Daniel wasn’t the strongest guy, and he failed to break the Trog’s hold. The beast, sensing victory, sunk its rancid teeth into Daniels shoulder. Then, a heavy, swift punch from Vhan sent the beast to join its brothers in the afterlife.

After the battle, the group explored the complex, and found it to be a long forgotten way station, of sorts. They agreed to stay there until their ten days were up.

Unfortunately, they soon caught wind of something big going on in the swamps around their hill. A veritable horde of foul monsters soon marched through the area, oblivious to Daniel and his company within the hidden way station. The horde had monsters of all kinds among its ranks. Hyena-like Gnolls marched shoulder-to-shoulder with Minotaur and Goblins. Rosko’s keen eyes soon found that a small detachment of the horde, with prisoner in tow, had taken shelter within a nearby ruin. The group promptly investigated.

The entryway was pitch black, so dark that I bet even a ‘Flayer couldn’t see its tentacles in front of its own face. The group soldiered on, though, sending Daniel out ahead. Daniels sharp ears alerted him that some beast was near, and he hugged the wall and waited. Then, just as the creature seemed to slow down, he struck a torch against the stone wall, igniting it. He then threw the torch to the spot where he thought the creature was!

The torch illuminated a burly Goblin, momentarily stunned by the torch’s light. Seeing an opportunity, Vhan, who had been leading the other two, charged forward and snuffed the Goblin out before it could so much as utter a whimper.

The four then came to a sturdy oaken door. Daniel put his ear to it, listening. He heard the voices of Goblins. Several, in fact. One voice sounded in charge, and it seemed to be having a conversation with several others. Daniel didn’t understand Goblin jibber-jabber, but he got the gist. The leader wanted the others to go down and secure the prisoner. The rabble were afraid of the prisoner, for some reason, and didn’t want to go. The leader eventually shouted down the cowards, and Daniel heard another door slam.

Then, in a split second, Vhan rushed through the door, nearly knocking it off it’s hinges. His look of confidence immediately changed into a grimace of pain as a sharp blade sliced into his bare chest. He staggered. Then Claire rushed up, blocking another sword thrust with her shield, and put her hand on his back, while whispering a soft prayer. Instantly, the deep cut began to close, and Vhan tacked the larger Goblin.

The Goblin blocked Vhan’s tackle, but wasn’t fast enough to parry the right hook angled for his face. Vhan’s fist connected, and there was a crack and the Goblins nose was crushed against its slimy face. Seizing the advantage, Daniel deftly tumbled around the Goblin, and then sprang up behind it, his epee at the ready.

Now then, time for some background. The Goblin that Daniel and Co. were currently fighting went by the name of Cullen. Cullen was a nasty fellow, even by Goblin standards. One reason Cullen was particularly disliked for was his use of a particularly nasty poison, called Bloodrot. Bloodrot was called that because it was pestilence, in liquid form. Just a tiny bit of exposure to Bloodrot would kill you in seconds.

Daniel, from his vantage behind Cullen, saw the Goblin pull out a vial of from his pouch. While the Goblin was swinging madly at Vhan with a sword clenched in his other hand, Daniel made his move.

He lunged forward, upper cutting with his epee, and the speed of his swipe was so great that it neatly cleaved the Goblins had from its wrist. Then, still with super human speed, he did a quick flourish with his blade, and drove it into Cullen’s back. The blade emerged out from Cullen’s chest, and the Goblin stared, transfixed, at his own heartblood on the blade. Then, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell forward, as Daniel pulled his sword from Cullen’s back.

And that, young lads, is the story of how Daniel gained his title. Now, be good and buy an old salt a drink, eh?

SanguisAevum
2012-07-11, 10:38 AM
As usual, thankyou for the excellent feedback. It has been noted, and some revisions made.

hopefully will have time to comment on others this evening.

SleepyShadow
2012-07-12, 10:57 AM
@Dr Bwaa: Nope, no more Ravenloft. Maybe someday we'll get back to it, but for now it's been shelved.


hehehehe. Awesome. Some things never change, do they--I'd missed your great semi-ooc characterization of these guys' actions. This is a great way to put together your introductions of the characters; I like it a lot(from an in-snippet and out-of-snippet perspective).

Thanks, glad you liked it. The session was pretty short just due to the high amount of BS'ing that took place coupled with time spent on making new characters.


I liked this snippet quite a bit; glad to have you back! I'm looking forward to seeing what happens in this campaign--and whose eyes we'll be viewing it through. It doesn't seem obvious where you'd get an NPC to stick with them--but then again, it's fun to see the one-off NPCs who live only long enough to tell the tales of the heroic adventurers destroying everything in their path, too

Well, so far they've managed not to kill off the NPC, though we'll see how long that lasts.

Anyway, onto the snippet!

Fiendish Fowls and Distressing Damsels
The hill was steep, but Saitomi managed to drag Jerea and Ree all the way to the top. At the top of the hill was the ruined remains of a stone tower, most of which had fallen and crumbled away.

"Hey, look there," Jerea said as she pointed down the other side of the hill.

A young elf woman garbed in loose white and green robes was perched in the upper branches of a tree at the base of the hill. She had tan skin, blonde hair, and a terrified look on her face as she struggled to stay out of reach of the creatures that circled the tree.

Three black-feathered birds, each fully the size of a mastiff, circled the tree that the elf girl took refuge in. Their long legs allowed them to jump and snap at the girl's legs with their sharp beaks, and they squawked hungrily up at her. However, their wings seemed too small to provide the birds with flight.

"Chickens?" Ree asked incredulously. "We have to kill chickens?!"

"They look like chocobos," Saitomi said excitedly. "Can we ride them?"

"Chickens!" Ree repeated angrily.

"According to my knowledge, they appear to be fiendish dire chickens," Jerea informed the group as she nodded sagely.

"They're still chickens," Ree pointed out. "This is exactly why I hate low level play."

"Help me, please!" the elf girl shrieked.

"Oh no! The lady!" Saitomi cried out as he rushed down the hill with his sword drawn.

"If we die to chickens, I quit," Ree grumbled.


***

"Thank you ever so much for saving me," the elf girl said as Saitomi helped her down from the tree.

"We were happy to help," Jerea said, wiping poultry blood from her maul.

"I wish you two were casters," Ree muttered. "I could've killed all of them with one spell, but because you guys were in melee I had to blow all my spells on Magic Missile."

"What would you have done instead?" Jerea asked.

"Cast Grease, set it on fire," Ree answered. "Precooked our meals."

"But that could have caught fire to the tree I was in," the elf girl said, appalled. "I would have perished in the blaze along with those foul fowls."

"You have to crack a few eggs to make an omelet," Ree replied.

"It's funny 'cause we were fighting chickens," Saitomi laughed.

"Shut up," Ree groaned.

"So who are you, miss?" Jerea asked the elf.

"My name is Aerye," she replied, bowing low to the group. "I am forever in your debt for saving my life."

"Great, fine, so what do you do?" Ree asked.

"I'm a practitioner of the healing arts," Aerye answered as she smiled sweetly.

"That's nice, but how do you do it?" Ree questioned, growing impatient.

"Um, with healing magic," Aerye replied.

She muttered a few softly spoken words as she passed her hands over Saitomi, healing his wounds.

"Thanks," the rogue said with a smile.

"That's not what I meant," Ree grumbled. "Aerye, what is your profession?"

"I'm a healer!" Aerye insisted. "Why is that so hard to understand?"

"Goddammit, what class are you?!" Ree shouted.

"I've graduated already," Aerye said quietly as she cowered from the angry woman.

Ree reached toward the elf as if to throttle her, but Jerea quickly placed a hand on the sorcerer's shoulder and pulled her away.

"I think she's being straight with you," Jerea said. "Do you remember the Miniature's Handbook?"

"Of course," Ree scoffed. "It has the War Hulk in it."

"There's also a couple base classes in it," Jerea reminded her. "One of them is the Healer. See?"

Ree muttered to herself for a few moments, then turned her furious gaze back to Aerye.

"Why?" Ree shouted at the trembling elf. "Why are you so useless?!"

Winds
2012-07-13, 08:01 PM
Oh...SleepyShadow's party...such fun not-quite IC antics...

I have been unable to use my computer...I need to write! So, have something I wrote ages ago. :smallbiggrin:

In this episode, the Deck of Many Things nearly wipes out the party. Note that the next few snippets will be much more serious.


A new problem

In the pedestal room, we found an overwhelmingly powerful deck of magic cards. With an instruction book telling me that several of them would be a bad thing when we're fighting the full might of the Nine.

I was stupid enough to draw first. The card was black. The Void. My soul was ripped free of my body...and caught.

I found myself before the fiend-dragon that I made the pact with. It...changed. Into Asmodeus.


I think my pact may have been bought out after I got involved in this. I was hardly worth the effort before then.

That was...months ago, it seems like. Time flows differently in the Nine, so it can't have been long...though long enough for the same thing to happen to Logrim. So...he could take hold of a warrior of Tempus? That means he's more powerful than I thought...but it also means he doesn't hold any power over me due to the pact. The other card is my only chance...'writing' this in my mind is just a stopgap effort. If the other card from the deck doesn't save me soon, I'll go insane. Eventually.

There. The force that took hold of me is back. I feel...disappointment? ...Weighed in the balance.


Ah. I understand. I was tricked into a devilish pact when I thought I had approached a dragon...If I'm going to win free, I need to understand devils. Beat them at their own game.

Heh heh heh heh heh. I can do that. My erstwhile warden has noticed a change in me. I am offered a deal...I will be returned to my body, empowered to match my companions new strength. In exchange, I am to...continue just as before? That...helped him? Hm.

All right then. Back to my body, with new powers and gear. And all I have to do is best the Nine Hells themselves in a game of intrigue.

Let the games begin.

Dr Bwaa
2012-07-16, 02:53 PM
I just wrote up about half a brief snippet based on a session from yesterday, then realized it was absolute trash, so you don't get to see it. Maybe some other time. Also I promise I have more snippets coming, whenever my beta gets them back to me. Instead, comments!


@Kymme

Unfortunately, Daniel wasn’t the strongest guy, and he failed to break the Trog’s hold.

This is the first time I've sensed combat mechanics show through the prose, and I think it's just because this sentence is a little bland. If you spiced it up a bit you'd mask the mechanics better, I think. Something like "...grabbed Daniel in a bear hug. In an echo of his youth, Daniel found himself powerless to escape the beast's fearsome grip, and felt its rancid teeth sink deep into his shoulder."


The torch illuminated a burly Goblin, momentarily stunned by the torch’s light.

You've already got the torch as the subject of the sentence; referencing it again is a big clunky. "...stunned by the light" or something similar is just fine here.


Now then, time for some background.

Ahh! The narrative has been strong up to this point, but it's been four paragraphs since we've actually heard the storyteller's "voice" and this is a bit jarring. I don't think you should take it out, but try to work some idioms or narrative bias into the preceding fight scene, to remind us that we're being told this tale in a tavern after last call.

Overall I liked this a bunch; the framework was very good and the only problem I have with the storyteller is wanting more of him. There are a fair few missing apostrophes and so on, but altogether very enjoyable :smallbiggrin:


@SleepyShadow

"According to my knowledge, they appear to be fiendish dire chickens," Jerea informed the group as she nodded sagely.

LOL. I do think you're overusing the "'blah blah' said Someone as they did something" construction, though. Rearrange it occasionally to keep things fresh: "Jerea nodded sagely. 'According to my research... (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Literature/TheMagicSchoolBus)'"


"We were happy to help," Jerea said, wiping poultry blood from her maul.

D: For some reason the picture of happy Jerea smiling at the new girl and cleaning chicken gore off an oversized maul is just horrifying to me. But I love it.


"Aerye, what is your profession?"

"I'm a healer!" Aerye insisted. "Why is that so hard to understand?"

"Goddammit, what class are you?!" Ree shouted.

"I've graduated already," Aerye said quietly as she cowered from the angry woman.

Fantastic. I'm trying to picture your players (specifically Ree's/Fluffy's player because I picture them as the same person :smalltongue:) in a campaign of mine where the ruling caste is the druids. The problem being that Druids, Clerics, and Bards are all considered druids. :smallbiggrin:

Anyway I love your confrontations between this player and your NPCs. Good stuff as always; definitely a fun snippet (you really have it out for the good-aligned, kindhearted NPCs, don't you? I'd be interested to see if you can craft one at some point that Ree's player wants in the party, but the other two don't :smallamused:

@Winds
Okay, so first of all let's set one thing straight.


In this episode, the Deck of Many Things nearly wipes out the party.

Deck of Many Things nearly wipes out

nearly

I am very intrigued to see how your campaign survived its encounter with the Deck. We had one very fun, very high-powered campaign that instantly ground to a halt when we found the Deck, every character got 50,000XP and/or "body functions but soul is trapped elsewhere", someone became an Avatar of Bane, and so on... Everyone learns that lesson eventually, I suppose. (http://penny-arcade.com/comic/2010/06/28) :smallbiggrin:

Hmmmm, interesting. The middle section was a little confusing; part of that seems to be intentional with the weird flow of time and so for, which I get. But I'm a bit lost as to who is being referred to; there's an awful lot of "he" floating around without much to attach to. Are we still talking about Asmodeus here?


empowered to match my companions new strength.

Who? Logrim? It's not at all clear who has new strength, or how Kalach would know about it, for that matter.

This is definitely an interesting revelation (for Kalach as well, seemingly) as to his power source. This also seems to be occurring just after your previous snippet, despite you writing it "ages ago"--is that true? I just don't want to screw up my chronology :smallbiggrin: Your DM is pretty damn brave putting the Deck in a serious campaign, I'll give him/her that much!

Winds
2012-07-17, 09:42 AM
I am very intrigued to see how your campaign survived its encounter with the Deck.

Well, let's see.

Kalach drew Void, and got grabbed by Asmodeus, then Balance made him LE (from CN), giving a reason to put him back in play. Logrim got balance and became LG (also from CN, I think), then Donjon and Asmodeus grabbed him. Then his player's backup, a hellbred paladin, drew Balance. The DM said no, we will not lose three characters this way, redraw that card.

And yes, I did learn my lesson. The first time I encountered it went well-ish, though.


Hmmmm, interesting. The middle section was a little confusing; part of that seems to be intentional with the weird flow of time and so for, which I get. But I'm a bit lost as to who is being referred to; there's an awful lot of "he" floating around without much to attach to. Are we still talking about Asmodeus here?

Yes, it was intentional, yes that's whose he's usually referring to. Most of the odd is meant to be because he's in a lot of pain, and the entry only exists in his head anyway.



Who? Logrim? It's not at all clear who has new strength, or how Kalach would know about it, for that matter.

Logrim stayed where he was. The rest of the party gained levels by the Deck.


This is definitely an interesting revelation (for Kalach as well, seemingly) as to his power source.

Annoyingly, yes. I wanted him to have a draconic source. DM said make it a fiendish dragon, and okay. I thought it a decent compromise. Then this. :smallannoyed:


This also seems to be occurring just after your previous snippet, despite you writing it "ages ago"--is that true?

They're all posted in chronological order, but I'm serious about being behind. We're level 17, and fighting epic CRs for all of our remaining planned encounters. Yeah. I got stuff to write.


Your DM is pretty damn brave putting the Deck in a serious campaign, I'll give him/her that much!

You think that? Then here's the mindblowing part: he has it show up in every campaign, and does all he can to encourage us to use it.

Drowlord
2012-07-17, 10:44 AM
I'm new to this, but it seems interesting and I will try my hand at it.

Kingdoms Will Fall

The old woman croaked, "You have destiny at your door. Three is the number, you shall see."
He drew a card. A proud castle held its head high among storms of men and gods.
"Throne."
He flipped another over. A star blazed from the card, blazing with unnatural white.
"Star."
He turned a third. A dark claw reached off the card, grasping his neck and choking him.
"Talon."
He shook it off. Just an illusion. He knew he was too powerful to be destroyed by a mere devil. "Thank you. I'll now be off."

The crown on his head was battered, missing two jewels. He had worked hard for it. His lone castle had become a mighty realm, ruled by him and his group of heroes. His sword had become the bane of evil nearly everywhere.

That was yesterday.

Now the demon lord Nairus, whose son and heir had been slain by Kylorin, was massing his clouds of wrath. Demons ripped the life out of his brave soldiers with talons of fire, clawing through fine plate, gleaming chain, and hard leather alike with unholy grace and ease. Green skulls gibbered, fireballs roared like the dragons of older days, sprays of ice and snow and rays of shadows chaotically flew through the air above the turret of marrble where Hexila, his chief witch, was battling with the mighty mages of the Abyss. Kalah Stronglance, a paladin of mighty Eranus, was dying to horrible wounds clawed in him by millions of denizens of the dark plane, his blue-lit sword broken and cracked into tiny pieces. Aline, his half-elven cleric, was battling hopelessly against hundreds of dark spirits in the courtyard, her flaming mace like a catapult of death onto the legions of unholy dead.
He knew he was doomed.

"Jantus, get a troop of soldiers and take the galleys out of port. Fit as many men and women as possible in our fleet, and sail to Green Island. May you fare well."
Jantus hid trickling tears in his beard, shot with grey like a frosted wood in the moonlight. He descended the steps to the courtyard's inner sanctum, hoping to get off before it was too late.

Kylorin's armor, forged by the finest dwarf artisans, glowed with calm light. His runed sword was in his hand, shining in paleogian letters of the spirit of war.
His knees bent, and he jumped. Rock crumbled beneath him as he leaped over the void beneath.
Hundreds of arrows hissed at him, but he was not only a warrior, but a king wise in the ways of magic, and the arrows were consumed by white flame as he plummeted from the dark battlements. He slowed, and hit the ground with a crunch of dead bones beneath him.
Kylorin slashed through the ranks of dead like a whirlwind. His scything blade felled any that withstood him. He was wounded by thousands of demon claws that burned his flesh as he destroyed them, but he stood strong in the dying Kingdom of Kyloria.
A shadowed figure stood before him, bedecked in black armor forged by evil spirits deep in the earth. The demon lord's sword, hooked like an eagle's talon, answered the hero's sword in runes that glowed with tainted grey.
"And so we meet, Kylorin."
The hooked sword hissed out towards the hero's leg. With devilish speed and strength, he ripped through the plate and slashed a hole in his leg. Kylorin retaliated with a blow that crushed the demon lord's arm plate and nicked his hand.
The demon and the human fought with flickering blades, with crushing blows, with feints and distractions. They fought long and hard, as the last green light flickered out over the blasted marble tower, as the half-elf cleric finally succumbed to wounds, as the fleet launched off with the last of the heroes of Kyloria.
They fought not a duel, for a duel has honor. They hacked at each other with an elementary brutality. The sun darkened and the moon came out. But it was red.

The demon lord feinted towards the human's cheekbone, then slashed with a hissing blade and cleaved his arm off. Kylorin's eyes went wide, and he fell, virtually dead, to the ground. The demon lord laughed and raised his sword for one last stroke.
An arrow hit him in the elbow, and his aim slipped, cleaving into the ground. He looked where it had come from.
A slight, young woman had fired it through the window. Her blue eyes were wide with determination as she raised another to bear. Her raven hair, topped with a silver circlet that matched Kylorin's, blew in the dire breeze. She could not let her love and king die while she was alive.
The demon casually fired off a barrage of spells at her, watching, as did Kylorin, as she withered into a pile of dust under incredible amounts of magic. Kylorin moaned, gathering his anger into strength, and his only chance. His dying muscles, only moving by anger at his queen's callous murderer.

Nairus laughed, and turned his back on his dead enemies. He had better things to do.
The demon collapsed with a red-runed sword in his back, twitched, and dissipated. His armor fell to the battlefield with a clank.
The human hero had done his last act. His honor had died, his kingdom had died, and his queen had died. He just needed to avenge them, and he did.
"I won."

---

Battlefield crows pecked the bodies of the dead, ignoring one metal-shelled man who stared glassily at the sky. A chill wind brought the stench of death to the fleet of refugees, now moving out to the last island controlled by Kyloria. The battlefield smoked of demon-fire, a choking stench. The turrets of the great castle were lifeless against the sinking moon. Armor gleamed in the mocking light with cold, pale death. A few fires burned atop the walls and in the courtyard, signaling demon lords heating their mortal slaves to keep them alive for the conquest of Green Island. They left at the break of dawn.
With a negligent flick of their heads, they decided he would be too much of a nuisance to pick out of the armor that enclosed him. With a flap of black feathers, the quorum of crows flew off into the smoke-black sky.

SleepyShadow
2012-07-19, 10:04 AM
@Dr Bwaa: I suppose you are correct. I am overusing the speech format. I will try to mix things up a bit. As for Ree/Fluffy/Herodrith, he doesn't mind kind hearted NPCs nearly as much as he dislikes "weak" characters. He tolerated Clarice far better than Aerye because she was a more powerful class.

Dr Bwaa
2012-07-24, 09:43 AM
I always thought of it as the ultimate gift for the players

:smalleek::smalleek::smalleek:
I want to play in your games :smallamused:

@Drowlord
Welcome! This snippet was very enjoyable; I sincerely hope you stick around! It sounds like there is a lot more to this story--I hope you decide to keep telling it!

...His sword had become the bane of evil nearly everywhere.

That was yesterday.

Heh, very nice. I like this opening a lot.


Green lights, fireballs, cones of cold and rays of death

"green lights" and "cones of cold", I think, could be more descriptive. You're describing an ongoing, rather chaotic battle here, and some more vivid descriptions of the spell slinging around would be nice. They don't even have to be particularly faithful to the spells they're describing; in fact I think this sort of thing works better if descriptions do not conform exactly to spells. A cone of cold, for instance, is unlikely to actually look like a code of cold except to someone with the knowledge to call it by its spell name--it's really more of a blast of elemental ice.


"Jantus, get a troop of soldiers and take the galleys out of port. Fit as many men and women as possible in our fleet, and sail to Green Island. May you fare well."
The strong fighter hid trickling tears in his beard, shot with grey like a frosted wood in the moonlight.

This whole passage is fantastic, except that the part I bolded is unclear and feels very game-mechanics-y. First, "the strong fighter" seems like it might apply to either of them--who is the subject here? If it's Kylorin, the exposition is a little too forced. We already know that he's a sword-wielding type with a battered crown, so we can assume he is both strong, and a fighter. However, in the next sentence, "he" clearly refers to Jantus, so now I have to wonder if that's who was being described, instead. I think you should get away with just using a name here, or else just describing him less explicitly but more clearly (refer to something about him that elicits a feeling of strength, rather than stating it outright, then use Jantus' name in the next sentence. Or if the whole thing is describing Jantus, give a description that clarifies that; something that would apply to Jantus but not to Kylorin).


Hundreds of arrows hissed at him, and he blocked them with a shield of white fire. For he was not only a warrior, but a king wise in the ways of magic.

The same goes here. If he's conjuring a shield of white fire, it's obvious that he can use magic. In this case, though, the explicit statement reads better, since I (as the reader) am caught somewhat off-guard by the shield of white fire coming from a warrior type (and since the phrasing could be a little more vivid in general). I think this passage would read more smoothly with the order switched around a bit, something like "Hundreds of arrows hissed through the air at him, but Kylorin was not only a warrior, but a king wise in the ways of magic, and every shaft that approached him was consumed in a flicker of white fire."


He was wounded, but he stood strong in the dying Kingdom of Kyloria.

When did he get wounded? Just now? This could use some clarity.


They fought not a duel, for a duel has principals

*principles, though I think a different word might be better here, anyway.


A slight, young woman had fired it through the window. Her blue eyes were wide with determination as she raised another to bear.
The demon casually fired off a barrage of spells at her, watching, as did Kylorin, as she withered into a pile of dust under incredible amounts of magic.

This is a good moment, but as a reader I really want to know who that woman is. In a moment you mention Kylorin's queen--is this her? If so, I would expect a reaction from Kylorin, even though he's at the edge of death. If it's not her, then who is this random person? She gets a bit of description, but no name or context, and is then disintegrated. I want to know more!


Battlefield crows pecked the bodies of the dead, ignoring one metal-shelled man who stared glassily at the sky. He would be too much of a nuisance to pick out of the shell that enclosed him. With a flap of black feathers, the crow flew off into the darkening sky.

I like this final scene; it feels a bit rushed though. The repeated "shell" is a little awkward, and I assume that final "crow" is supposed to be plural. In general I'd like this ending paragraph to be just a bit longer--it's supposed to (unless I'm mistaken) give a sense of desolation and stillness, and force the reader to reflect on the battle. Just another sentence or two of description would be nice; it's good to make the pacing of the prose line up with the feelings you're trying to convey. Picture this snippet as the final scene in a movie--this shot of crows pecking at the dead, perhaps with a couple of widows/children appearing to look for survivors, would be a pretty long closing shot, all things considered, even though nothing is actually happening. I find that to be a helpful way to think about how much time to spend on a given description; obviously there are exceptions.

Drowlord
2012-07-24, 03:05 PM
@Drowlord
Welcome! This snippet was very enjoyable; I sincerely hope you stick around! It sounds like there is a lot more to this story--I hope you decide to keep telling it!


Thank you. It is a part of a long story, and I do intend to keep writing snippets of it.





Heh, very nice. I like this opening a lot.


Thanks.



"green lights" and "cones of cold", I think, could be more descriptive. You're describing an ongoing, rather chaotic battle here, and some more vivid descriptions of the spell slinging around would be nice. They don't even have to be particularly faithful to the spells they're describing; in fact I think this sort of thing works better if descriptions do not conform exactly to spells. A cone of cold, for instance, is unlikely to actually look like a code of cold except to someone with the knowledge to call it by its spell name--it's really more of a blast of elemental ice.

Good advice. I sort of added it to show where the other members of Kylorin's party were. To make it more descriptive would add a lot to the story. I will add that.



This whole passage is fantastic, except that the part I bolded is unclear and feels very game-mechanics-y. First, "the strong fighter" seems like it might apply to either of them--who is the subject here? If it's Kylorin, the exposition is a little too forced. We already know that he's a sword-wielding type with a battered crown, so we can assume he is both strong, and a fighter. However, in the next sentence, "he" clearly refers to Jantus, so now I have to wonder if that's who was being described, instead. I think you should get away with just using a name here, or else just describing him less explicitly but more clearly (refer to something about him that elicits a feeling of strength, rather than stating it outright, then use Jantus' name in the next sentence. Or if the whole thing is describing Jantus, give a description that clarifies that; something that would apply to Jantus but not to Kylorin).

Yeah, that was one of the confusing points. Kylorin was the main character here, Jantus being a lower-level fighter who escaped the ruin of Kyloria. I will change that to show the scene more clearly.



The same goes here. If he's conjuring a shield of white fire, it's obvious that he can use magic. In this case, though, the explicit statement reads better, since I (as the reader) am caught somewhat off-guard by the shield of white fire coming from a warrior type (and since the phrasing could be a little more vivid in general). I think this passage would read more smoothly with the order switched around a bit, something like "Hundreds of arrows hissed through the air at him, but Kylorin was not only a warrior, but a king wise in the ways of magic, and every shaft that approached him was consumed in a flicker of white fire."

Changing the wording around is very much clearer; thanks for mentioning it.



When did he get wounded? Just now? This could use some clarity.

Yes, just then.



*principles, though I think a different word might be better here, anyway.

I will change that to 'honor' or something similar. Good catch.



This is a good moment, but as a reader I really want to know who that woman is. In a moment you mention Kylorin's queen--is this her? If so, I would expect a reaction from Kylorin, even though he's at the edge of death. If it's not her, then who is this random person? She gets a bit of description, but no name or context, and is then disintegrated. I want to know more!

She is indeed Kylorin's queen. That should indeed be stated. I will put that in.



I like this final scene; it feels a bit rushed though. The repeated "shell" is a little awkward, and I assume that final "crow" is supposed to be plural. In general I'd like this ending paragraph to be just a bit longer--it's supposed to (unless I'm mistaken) give a sense of desolation and stillness, and force the reader to reflect on the battle. Just another sentence or two of description would be nice; it's good to make the pacing of the prose line up with the feelings you're trying to convey. Picture this snippet as the final scene in a movie--this shot of crows pecking at the dead, perhaps with a couple of widows/children appearing to look for survivors, would be a pretty long closing shot, all things considered, even though nothing is actually happening. I find that to be a helpful way to think about how much time to spend on a given description; obviously there are exceptions.

The second 'shell' will be changed to case now. I cannot think of a better word here, strangely. The second 'crow' was indeed intended to be 'crows', and I indeed forced the end. Will put in more description. Thanks again for the good advice, and I will edit the original and put in the second snippet in the series soon.




Kingdoms Will Fall II
The night had fallen on Kyloria.
Jantus stood on the deck of the flagship of the fleet, the Glitterscales. The shadows were ink of the gods, stirred into the water by the pounding of the huge storm that had roared from the heavens. Tongues of lightning shot from the sky, careening madly across the surf.

Night had fallen.
Jantus' cloak fluttered in the wind, and he shivered in his armor as the sky split open with winds of death. He knew Kylorin was dead, deep in his heart, and that meant Kyloria was doomed. So was he. The demons had slain the mightiest and noblest warrior he knew. Jantus had lived long, and seen many things, but he was the last hero of Kyloria the fallen, doomed among doom. Green Island, the last city of Kyloria, remained, with a shipload of refugees coming towards it.

Kyloria had fallen.
The welcoming yellow light of the lighthouse shone into the night, and the ship swung towards it. The fleet glowed with eerie blue fire as it docked in the harbor. Armored men, small children, and frightened women poured out on the docks, stumbling to places to stay with their families, huddled for warmth against the booming sky.

Honor had fallen.
Jantus roared over the storm, "There are dry rooms and food for you all in the fortress. We have been making them comfortable for you. Please go there, save the Knights of Kylorin."
Most of the masses on the docks slowly shuffled along the crowded timbers, as lightning staggered and reeled in the sky overhead. A small force, armored but cloaked to keep the rain off, stood awaiting orders.

Justice had fallen.
Jantus ordered them to ready positions along the coast. They were the elite soldiers of Kyloria, and they would be alert whenever the enemies came. Jantus knew better than to hope they would be stopped by the water. He set off down the windings of the huge city to the palace-fortress of the Six of Kyloria; Kylorin, his queen Alenta, the witch Hexila, the paladin Kalah, Aline the cleric, and him. Now he alone ruled the forces of Kyloria. He alone could save them or destroy them. His fingers hefted his axe's handle as he walked to the army in front of the fortress.

Bravery had fallen.
"Men of Kyloria, I come to you today to state one thing. We are strong.
The demons are strong, and intelligent, and deadly. We are mere men. They are menace incarnate. What have we they have not?
We are brave, and they are not. Let us shield ourselves with bravery. We have love. Let our love power us into defending our country and loved ones. We have honor. Our honor will be a cleansing flame to their wooden lies. We shall set their straw trickery alight, and we will be a beacon of glory and goodness."

Light had fallen.
He walked among them to thundering applause. No thunder of earth, though, could drown the heavens' mad howl of death and darkness. He began ordering groups to different sections of the city walls, putting only a small elite guard in the fortress, which was in the very center of the city. He walked into the central bastion, into the bedroom prepared for him. His armor clinked as he fell into bed in it, too tired to take it off, too depressed to bother, too worried to think of it. The guards spread out through the palace, taking care not to wake the last hero of Kyloria.

Twilight had fallen.
Long after, a quiet hiss echoed through the palace as a glowing swirl appeared in the air in the back of Jantus' room. The demon general Kalarah, with a troop of demon warriors, slowly marched through the portal.
Jantus' eyes opened as one dropped a shield, clattering among the floor's stones. He sprung out of bed and roared in shock, swinging his now-glowing axe at a demon soldier, cleaving through dark leather and demonic flesh. The soldier screamed and clawed at his mail coat, entangling its claws. It hissed frustratedly as he poleaxed it to the ground, knocking it out of his way. The demon general smiled, pulling out a long, barbed whip that glowed with abyssal fire. Cracking it, he sent his troops out to combat the elite guard in the fortress.

The sun had fallen.
Jantus swiped at the demon with the axe, but Kalarah coated it in fire, reducing the metal blade to bubbling puddles on the floor and the handle to a charred stick. Jantus managed to whack the demon on the side with the handle, creating a spray of blood that dripped down the demon's cloak, but Kalarah leapt at the human, his hands burning with dark flames. They burned into his chest, melting metal and setting cloth on fire.
The hero stumbled back, melting metal baking his chest, two burning handprints in his skin. Black spots danced before his eyes, and he didn't move as Kalarah slowly charged a fire in the palm of his hand.
He kicked out with an armored boot, smashing the demon's already-bruised side. Kalarah howled and clutched his side in pain. In a flash the human was at the demon's throat, gripping hard enough for Kalarah to see red.
A whip curled around his hands, burning them deep with fire. He leapt back, his hands dead, his chest burned with demon fire and with melted steel welded to it.
The demon cracked it across his shoulder, then realized his mistake as the human used the momentum to trap the burning whip in the crook of his shoulder and ripped it from his hands. The human savagely kicked the off-balance demon in the same spot. He sank to the floor, doubled over. The human raised his iron boot to kick in Kalarah's face.
"Fool. Look where your honor is now."
"Honor? You lost yours millennia ago."
"You deserve better, Jantus. I see fate for you. Death is at your door."
The last hero of Kyloria kicked with savage derision, cracking the grinning face below him. The body dissapeared in a blast of hellfire.
He sank to the floor, burning with pain and loss. Honor gone, life gone. He had nothing to live for. He had killed without honor, had been mocked by a demon righteously. His heart slowly ceased to beat, and a dull nothingness spread over him.

The last hero had fallen.
The elite guard had defeated the last of the demon warriors infiltrating the palace. They went to report to the chief general, out ton the ramparts of the greater fortress.
They saw they were too late. The last of their soldiers were fighting desperately with the hugely reduced demon horde.
Their leader knelt, tears in his eyes. "The rest of you, go and fight for your country. I have something to do."
They obeyed wordlessly, understanding his grief and rage. With a swirl of his cloak, the leader ascended the stairs to Jantus' room.
The lone warrior knelt before the dead hero. Jantus had been their last hope. He had destroyed the second-in-command of the demon army, though. No hero could hope for much more.
He focused, and stepped into a swirl in the air.

Night had fallen on Kyloria.

Dr Bwaa
2012-07-26, 08:42 AM
If my beta doesn't get back to me soon maybe I'll just post this hideous chapter as-is. Bluh.

@Drowlord
I like the changes you've made to the first chapter. It did take me a moment to figure out what word the forums censored there at the end, though :smallwink: Depending on how important it is to you, you might consider rephrasing that. :smallamused: Onwards, to the chapter two comments!

The shadows were ink of the gods, stirred into the water by the pounding of the huge storm that had roared from the heavens.

Great image. As before, this snippet begins beautifully.


he shivered in his armor as the sky split open with winds of death from the battle that had slain the mightiest and noblest warrior he knew

There's a lot going on in this sentence; the beginning is great, but somewhere in the middle it loses focus a bit. I think this would be stronger if you broke it up; on the one hand you've got Jantus shivering in his armor agains the ugly ocean breeze off the land; on the other you've got the battle and the loss of a companion. They're related, but they don't need to be smashed together quite so closely, I don't think (or maybe I just object to the verb "split" used here as a thing that "winds of death" can do. Either way, I'd prefer Jantus shivering (not from the cold, but from the reminder, yes? Again, this is a good moment), then another sentence of reflection on the fallen Kylorin.


He had lived long, and seen many things. But he was the last hero of Kyloria the fallen.

This comes right after a partial-switch to talking about Kylorin, which makes the subject of these sentences unclear. I assume you're still referring to Jantus, but it's not very clear.


One city remained, with a small fleet of refugees coming towards them.

This sentence confuses me. It just needs a touch of cleanup; the only thing we know about is the ship. What city (or does this refer to the fleeing population of the fallen one)? Who is "them"?


Armored men, small children, and women

Parallelism is a way of making your phrases and sentences more cohesive; here, by not putting an adjective in front of "women", you break the parallel structure you had set up with the beginning of the sentence. It's not wrong by any means, but the sentence will be smoother if you put something there (even better if you can make each phrase have the same number of total syllables (lush berries, tart apples, and sweet peaches)).


poured out on the docks, wandering to comfortable places to stay, huddled for warmth against the frothing sky.

This is a little ambivalent. "Wandering" and "comfortable" suggest calm and perhaps melancholy, whereas "poured", "huddled", and "frothing" are all very energetic.


Most of the masses on the docks slowly moved along the crowded timbers

Shuffled, pressed, something more descriptive. Try not to use bland verbs like "moved" or "went" unless there's really no alternative.


A small force, armored but cloaked to keep the rain off, stood in the deluging rain, waking orders.

*Awaiting. Also, I would take out "in the deluging rain" altogether: "A small, armored force, cloaked to keep the rain off, remained on the dock awaiting orders." We already know it's pouring, and you mention it once already in this very sentence. Repetition without really hammering it intentionally just makes it feel awkward.


Kylorin, his queen, Alenta, the paladin, Kalah, Alina, the cleric, and him.

I can't make six out of this no matter what I do. You don't need commas when you're describing someone twice in a list like this (so "...Kalah, the cleric Alina, and him." Also, just a note: I'm pretty sure her name was Aline in the last snippet).


"Men of Kyloria, I come to you today to state one thing. We are strong."
"The demons are strong, and intelligent, and deadly. We are mere men. They are menace incarnate. What have we they have not?"
"We are brave, and they are not. Let us shield ourselves with bravery. We have love. Let our love power us into defending our country and loved ones. We have honor. Our honor will be a cleansing flame to their wooden lies. We shall set their straw trickery alight, and we will be a beacon of glory and goodness."

I'm assuming you don't mean for him to get interrupted in the middle, but that's how this reads. If that's intentional, it could be clarified a touch. If not, you should remove the end-quotes from Jantus' first two paragraphs (this shows that when the next quote arrives, it's still the same guy speaking).


putting only a small elite guard in the fortress. He walked into the fortress...

Are they not all in the fortress, if they're guarding the walls? Perhaps you're referring to the inner keep here?


He sprung out of bed and yelled, swinging his now-glowing axe at a demon soldier

Just "yelled"? His axe lights up and he springs out of bed, but "yelled" falls a bit flat.


It hissed frustratedly as he poleaxed it to the ground

When did he get a polearm?


Jantus swiped at the demon with the axe

Over the course of this fight, you say "the demon" about fifty times. We even know its name already; mix it up a bit and try to avoid the needless repetition. Obviously there's only so much you can do; it's a fight scene and it's important to avoid confusion, but still. The same goes for the word "fire".


causing a highly painful bruise at least

:smallconfused: There has got to be a more descriptive way to say this. Or, if this is mean to be Jantus thinking semi-ironically to himself, say that! "Well, at least he'll have a bruise there in the morning. Probably, thought Jantus as the demon leaped at him, flaming fists outstreched." Of course, you haven't done any thought-process stuff yet, so even that may not flow so well without a touch of setup.


The last hero of Kyloria kicked with savage derision on the grinning face below him.

Do you really kick on things?


He sank to the floor, dying of pain and loss, of all. Honor gone, life gone.

I can see what you're doing here, but I don't think it comes across as clearly as you'd like it to. "Dying" is not as descriptive a word as you could use here, and the "of all" really breaks up the flow. A little more time on this description--he's essentially making a conscious decision to give up on life here (if I understand correctly--or else he's just dying with sorrow and grief as the last things in his heart). That's the kind of thing that deserves at least a little more description than you're giving it here.


He focused, and with not a sound, created a swirl in the air he stepped into.

Ahhhhh what? Who is this guy? I understand why he's leaving; that's fairly clear (apparently he doesn't think much about honor himself, though...), but who is he and why was his reaction to run to Jantus, see him dead, then gtfo? I really liked where this thing was ending, except that this left me just incredibly confused.


<X> had fallen

I like what you did with these; just thought I'd mention it. The very first one seemed a little awkward; I figured it would mirror the last one but it still doesn't parallel the rest of them, where it feels like it should. I don't really know how you could fix that though; maybe I'm just obnoxious that way.

I liked this snippet a lot! It does seem like you rushed some things; there are some miscellaneous typos and tense/agreement issues, but I certainly enjoyed it. I was kind of expecting chapter one to be the end of the campaign--and now it seems like it's even ended-er--but now I'm mentally hooked into the past and future of this campaign, so well done. Looking forward to seeing where this goes/comes from!

:smalleek: Holy cow these comments got away from me, didn't they.

Drowlord
2012-07-26, 10:50 AM
Responses! All suggested changes made. As for the typos, my spellcheck is very odd. Indeed, the guy that escaped into the portal was intended to be mysterious. He comes up later.
I might put a prequel or two here soon. The past of the story is indeed longer thank what happens after this, and a lot less dark.

Lord_Gareth
2012-07-27, 11:40 AM
So, this is neither of the snippets I promised!


Embrace
You just had to take that five-dot mentor, didn't you?

"You shouldn't have bruised her."

My body - especially my head - aches, and the way the unfamiliar voice echoes (where am I? This isn't McConnel's Bar and Grill) doesn't help the pain any. There's some kind of bag over my head and it reeks of sweat and blood.

"Couldn't be helped, my Prince," a male voice (a deep rumble that makes my temples throb) replies with a faint trace of apology. "There were interlopers, and I had to get away quickly."

I groan in pain, and the other voice (female, I think - light, but with a hard edge like sharpened glass) perks up.

"She's awake! Do remove the bag, will you?"

The bag is yanked from my head, but the darkness around me is not much brighter. I'm underground somewhere - an abandoned subway station, I think - and the only light comes from weak electric lanterns. I'm tied down to a chair, and a woman rests on her heels in front of me, looking up slightly to see me. She is not beautiful, but might be called attractive; pale, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Her smile is disconcerting, and her teeth stained pink. She is perhaps seventeen, maybe nineteen on the outside.

"Where am I? What do you want?"

The woman's smile gets broader. I can feel, more than see, the male presence behind me.

"A classic question, as common in this tongue as in any other," the woman replies conversationally. She stands and stretches, cat-like, before sauntering over to where I sit and settling down on my lap. I swallow hard and try not to shiver in fear when she leans in and sniffs me.

"Am I needed further, my Prince?" the male voice rumbles. The woman - the Prince? - shakes her head and then returns her attention to me. Her eyes are wrong, somehow, though I can't place why I would say so.

"Let's cut the crap out first, shall we? Your name is Elizabeth Shore. Your friends call you Lizzie, and your former boyfriend called you quite a few other names, usually while beating you. You work in a factory that smelts iron, and were rather delighted to eventually discover that it smelts people just fine too. I don't think he beats you any more."

Her gaze was steady, and her little predatory smile was challenging me to deny her statements. A small sob tried to fight its way out of my throat, but I choked it down and nodded, just once. "How do you know all of this?" I asked quietly, trying not to let fear strangle my voice.

"I know a lot of things," she evaded with that damn smile of hers. "You interested me, Elizabeth, so I decided that one of the things I wanted to know was you - and I'm not disappointed, let me tell you. He deserved all you gave him and more." She nuzzled against my neck and this time I did shudder. I could feel her tongue run against my jugular, and in shock I tried to slide backwards away from her, which succeeded only in bruising my back against the chair.

Her amused chuckle echoed through the abandoned station.

"What do you want?" I pleaded again. "I was just out drinking, I don't even know you."

"Of course you don't, Elizabeth," she practically purred, "Very few people know me, really. Not even the ones who think they do. Elizabeth, I find myself in a position that I did not feel I would ever be in. I want...an heir, I suppose. Someone to manage my affairs while I am gone, and return them to me when I rise again. I think you could be that person, Elizabeth."

She paused for a moment while she pressed her lips to my ear.

"Elizabeth Shore," she whispered, "how much do you fear death?"

She was very close and pressed into me, and there was no missing the fingers she trailed up my neck, tracing the path of my veins and leaving goosebumps behind them. I could smell something faint and coppery on her skin - all facts that I was noting instead of replying.

How do you even reply to that?

"Quite a bit, I'd gather," she continued, the purr growing more pronounced in her tone. "A shame, that, since you are going to die tonight. I am going to kill you, Elizabeth."

Another sob forced down. I turned my head and stared her in her eyes, not letting my terror show even while my mind scrambled for some way out of this. Something about my desperate defiance made her chuckle, and her face got closer to mine until we were only the barest fractions of inches apart.

"Why?" I finally demanded, fear coloring into anger. "What have I ever done to you?"

"Absolutely nothing, pretty girl," she replied without missing a beat. "In fact, you've done quite a bit that I like. Which is why I am offering you something, too. I could simply slit your throat and bury you out back, because now you've seen too much. Or you can live forever. Your choice."

"What's the catch?" my reply was instant, reflexive, and I almost regretted saying it, but my 'hostess' only nodded, as though complimenting my good sense.

"Significant catches. For one thing, you still have to fear the death which sweeps in on raven's wings and does violence upon the living. For another, you'll have to serve me until such a time as I deem your education fit - and possibly for quite some time thereafter, depending on how loyal you are. My enemies will become yours, and you'll have to forsake and abandon your living friends and family. Of course, you'll also have eternal youth, power both mystical and political, and influence beyond your wildest dreams. There's significant benefits too, you know."

Sweat ran into my eyes, and I blinked furiously to clear them. When my vision stopped swimming, the smiling teenager on my lap kissed me.

It was a strange sort of kiss to get while restrained - passionate, almost affectionate - and it was very hard for me not to return it on instinct. I was a lonely person, and in a way that spoke more profoundly than words ever could or would, that kiss told me she was lonely too.

"I'd rather not bury you out back," she murmured demurely. "But if it ever turns out that you don't like immortality, it's always an available option."

"Do it," I croaked out, not trusting myself with anything further.

When she leaned in again, I thought she was going to kiss me.

She did not.


* * *

I awoke on the floor, fragments of memory competing for my attention. A passionate kiss. A puddle of my own blood steaming on the floor. Attractive lips turned upwards into a smile flecked with red.

I died, didn't I?

I was helped up to my feet, and when I saw the girl who had had me kidnapped something screamed in the back of my mind - a howling, furious terror that I only barely fought down. She stood up on her tip-toes and planted another playful kiss on my lips before turning and sauntering off, waving for me to follow her.

"What now?" I demanded as I jogged up to her. She turned her head and smiled at me.

"Now? Right now we find you a big side of beef. Then, we talk. I'm glad you chose to come with me, Elizabeth Shore."

"I...think I am too, Prince." I spoke the last word with significant hesitation, not knowing if it was correct.

She gave me an odd, but pleased look, "You learn quickly, but please, my name is Astrid. I think we'll get along just fine."

SleepyShadow
2012-07-27, 01:56 PM
Yay, new snippet! :smallbiggrin:

"I Think I Know This Guy!"
"Well, this is it!" Aerye exclaimed happily. "Here's the village!"

The young elf gestured down into a valley toward a small town down in the middle of the vale. It seemed a peaceful place, and from where they stood the adventurers could see the vague shapes of people going about their business.

Ree scoffed. "This place looks dull."

"Don't worry," Jerea said as she clapped her companion on the shoulder, "I'm sure we'll find something to do soon enough."

"I remember that the blacksmith said he needed help. Why don't we go talk to him?" Aerye suggested.


***

"Fine bunch of lasses ye are," the burly dwarven blacksmith grumbled.

"Hey, I'm not a girl!" Saitomi protested.

The old dwarf laughed heartily, clutching at his sides in mirth. "Ye elves all look like lasses to me!"

"Aerye said that you needed help with something," Jerea said.

"Oh, aye, that I do, but ye tall folk ain't going far without supplies and armor now are ye?" the dwarf replied. "Take a look at me stock and take what ye need."

"Chain shirt," Saitomi and Jerea said simultaneously.


***

"There's no end to them!" Saitomi screamed.

Jerea reared back and smashed in the skull of yet another centaur as he charged. "Keep fighting! We can't give up!"

"I'm out of spells," Ree sighed resignedly. "Again."

"I'm not surprised," Jerea muttered.

A centaur's spear plunged through Saitomi's shoulder, but Aerye was by his side immediately to tend to the wound with her magic. The adventurers fought back to back as the seemingly never-ending horde of corrupted centaurs continued their relentless assault despite the corpses piling up around the four adventurers. Suddenly, the diseased horde pulled back as their leader strode forth.

He was a massive centaur clad in thick black plate armor, and the fur on his horse-half was a dark grey. Wisps of spectral blue flame spurted from beneath his armor from every movement, and the air around the green-bladed halberd he wielded was distorted from the heat resonating from the weapon.

"Foolish mortals," the creature roared, "you dare stand up to the might of Baron Madius?"

Jerea tightened the grip on her maul as Saitomi stepped beside her, his bloody blades held firm despite the elf's exhaustion. "We won't let you terrorize the people of this land any longer!" the cleric shouted fiercely.

"I'm not afraid anymore," Aerye said firmly.

"I will make you suffer, little elf!" Madius bellowed.

Ree folded her arms over her chest and smirked defiantly. "But ... suffering is magical!"

"I'll kill you first, you impudent lout!" the spectral centaur snarled as her charged the sorceress.


***

"I can't believe we did it!" Saitomi cried excitedly, jumping up and down atop the spectral centaur's remains.

With Baron Madius defeated, the centaurs returned to their normal peaceful selves, tending to the adventurers' injuries and offering them what gifts they could.

Jerea nodded to Saitomi. "It was hard fought, but we managed to come out on top."

"Looks like Hecarim won his last blue ribbon," Ree snickered as she crushed the defeated foe's helmet beneath her boot.

"Really?" a passing centaur grumbled dryly.

Ree shrugged. "What?"

"We should get going back to town," Jerea stated, "we need to take Aerye back to town and give her a proper burial."

"Wait, she died?" Ree asked, confused.

Saitomi sighed sadly as he looked down at the young elf's corpse in his arms. "Remember? She healed you instead of herself with her last healing spell. She saved you."

"I thought she would have stabilized," Ree replied.

Jerea shook her head. "I couldn't get to her in time."

Ree gave a small shrug as she started slowly down the dirt road back to town. "I guess she wasn't so bad after all."

Jerea and Saitomi looked at each other in surprise for a moment, then hustled to catch up with the sorceress. Unbeknownst to the three adventurers, a pair of eyes watched their every movement from the underbrush. The watcher squeezed a tiny gemstone, silently communicating to his allies.

I've found them.

Dr Bwaa
2012-08-06, 05:26 PM
All right, I'm still not all that happy with this but my usual beta hasn't gotten back to me in a while so I did a "final" round of edits and now I'm just posting this thing. It may be subject to drastic change whenever he gets his comments to me; I'll mention it & edit this post if so. For now I want to get it posted so I can stop thinking about it and move on to the next chapter. Your comments and critiques would be very much appreciated; I would love to improve this chapter. [edit: big changes to this chapter coming this weekend!]

When we last left our heroes, Claaus, Nim, and Filbert had been sucked into a pocket plane inside a treasure chest, where Nim made a deal with an Inevitable. Then the three of them were pulled into a copy of the treasure chest they were standing inside.
Previous chapters: 1 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=12924541&postcount=47) 2 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13046788&postcount=61) 3 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13097147&postcount=77) 4 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13391688&postcount=126)


Mist and Light
or: These Should Not Be CR 6

The transition is easier this time. With the release of the pressure comes a heavy, tangible clunk as my feet hit a real surface. I open my eyes to a curious sight. Rather than being returned to the bank of Joseph’s River, we’ve appeared in a large room of some kind. The ceiling, not quite a foot above my head, is made of wide, arrow-straight boards, and the room itself is wide and empty. The ground is made of finely-crafted wood as well, though about twenty feet out directly in front of us, the floor disappears into a heavy, silent fog. The only source of light is the mist itself, glowing dimly yellow.

I draw a deep breath, relishing air that has a taste again despite the faint stench of rot marring the the sweetness of old timber. I turn towards Filbert, then to Nim, both of them shaking out their limbs and looking about. I free a torch from where it hangs on my pack, lighting it with an alchemical tindertwig. The extra light reveals little about our surroundings, except that now I can see a long, curved wall circling behind us before eventually disappearing into the gloom on either side. There’s only one way to go.

Filbert apparently agrees with me; he pulls out a torch of his own and dips his sash over his eyes for a moment before lighting it. “Nim, your artifact is out in this mist someplace--I can’t tell where exactly.”

Nim is quick to respond, as always. “Well, then let’s go look for it!” Rather than a torch, he pulls out the Nocturne, and strikes up one of his favorites--a light Elven marching tune called Faerie Fight. Without another word, he starts out for the glowing mist, and Filbert and I rush to catch up. I draw Honor Bound from its sheath, the Aegis from my back, and the three of us walk side-by-side into the thick fog.

The reek of decay worsens immediately. The only sound is Nim’s playing, to the beat of our clear footfalls on the wooden floor, until my boot suddenly lands on something else. I freeze, holding out an arm to halt Nim’s progress beside me. I glance down to see a muddy line where the hard wood beneath our feet gives way abruptly to tall reeds and damp earth. Testing the ground for firmness for and finding purchase without difficulty, I lower my arm and step forward again, proceeding slowly now.

“Watch your step. We might run out of solid ground at any time.” I glimpse Nim rolling his eyes, but nonetheless he joins Filbert and I in testing the ground ahead before taking each step.

With his free hand, Filbert pulls the sash over his eyes again and immediately sighs. I turn to him, and he shakes his head and explains. “The fog itself is giving off Nim’s aura. It’s just as strong behind us as ahead.” He removes the blindfold, stopping for a moment to tighten the knot at the back of his head before resuming the careful process of walking across the bog.

I frown and return my eyes to the ground in front of me. “Who knows; maybe it’ll clear up soon.”

There’s a momentary pause as everyone fails to believe that little fantasy, until Nim interrupts his playing and points suddenly left. “Look! Someone else is in here with us!”

Sure enough, a torchlight, barely visible through the heavy, glowing fog, dips and sways in the distance. “Hello there!” Nim calls out, his naturally-loud voice cutting through the thick air. Filbert I and both cringe, and I hiss “Nim!” He just smiles his most infuriating grin and yells again, “Who are you?”

I don’t know whether to be relieved when no one responds to his shouts. The light just continues its erratic movement, fading slowly into the background glow as it moves away from us. “Follow it,” I say after a moment, “But be careful.”

“Sure, dad,” Nim quips instantly. I glimpse Filbert shoot him a glare behind my back, and Nim goes back to his playing, mouth conspicuously shut, as I stomp forward, toward the glimmering light. Absently, I touch the flask my father gave me the last time I saw him. Last we heard, disgraced by my treasonous actions and desertion, my father had been stripped of his rank and pension, and “graciously” given the chance to re-enlist for a tour in the southern jungles. For all I know, he’s down there now, crawling through the mud and drinking that horse-piss liquor with men decades his junior. Fighting man-sized snakes and creatures warped by magic in the heart of the jungle. For all I know, he’s not coming back.

I don’t even notice that I’ve almost caught up to the orange glow until there’s a loud splash as I miss solid ground and lurch into knee-deep, fetid water. “Claaus!” I hear Filbert call behind me, followed by his hurried footsteps. “I’m fine!” I yell back quickly, “step carefully! The ground is--”

I’m cut off by an extremely bizarre, extremely painful sensation, like every muscle on my right side fell asleep at once. My fingers feel hot, full of splinters, wrapped tightly around Honor Bound’s hilt. I’ve felt this pain once before--when I was hit by an Antonian mage’s Lightning spell. I try to warn the others, but only manage to blurt out a strained “Gah!”

It’s enough to get them to stop, at least long enough for the sensation to fade out to an unpleasant twinge, and I blink hard and look around for the source of the lightning.

“What is it?” one of them calls out, not too far away by the sound.

“Lightning!” I shout back, grabbing a fistful of reeds to pull myself up out of the muck. “Don’t know where it came from!”

As if to provide the explanation for me, half a dozen more torchlights appear in front of me. Yet more drift into view behind Nim and Filbert. They dip low to the ground, too low for anyone to be carrying them, and too sudden. Dancing faerie globes of light lead trav’lers from their path at night...

The children’s rhyme leaps to mind unbidden, a morbid tale of evil spirits that haunt blighted marshes... “Will-o-wisps!” I shout as I finally gain solid footing and ready my shield. “They’re will-o-wisps!”

A beat, then a reaction I was entirely unprepared for: Nim stops playing and doubles over, hands on his knees, roaring with laughter. “Will-o-wisps!” he cries, “of course it’s will-o-wisps!” Filbert’s concerned face subsides for a moment in favor of a slight smirk, and Nim looks up at me expectantly. Honestly, I see nothing funny about the situation.

“Don’t just stand around gawping! Kill them!”

Once Nim gets serious about it, the fight is reasonably quick, though exhausting. I quickly discover that neither shield nor armor seem to offer any protection from the will-o-wisps’ shocking sting, but after one of the wretched spirits lands a touch on Nim and leaves him gasping for breath, I focus on keeping them off him while he slings knives through their spongy, circular bodies. Filbert crushes them in his bare hands; saying they don’t shock him as much because of one of his magical tattoos, but every time one dives at Nim, I knock it out of the way or interpose myself between them, lightning soaring under my skin. As much as Charlize’s arcane firepower would be a blessing here, I’m glad she’s not with us--I truly don’t know if I could protect them both. I’ve drunk all but one of my strongest healing potions just to remain standing by the time the last one falls.

When it does, the three of us are left standing on our small hillock, panting and still looking around warily for more foes. Then, a familiar pressure seizes us, crushing down on skull and heart and lungs for what seems like an eternity, before releasing us as suddenly as before, and when I open my eyes, it’s to the glare of bright, natural afternoon sun on the east bank of Joseph’s River.

Charlize and Namia jump back at our sudden appearance. It takes all of us a moment to realize what’s happened and lower our weapons. After a glance around to ensure that we’re no longer in danger, I drop my sword and shield carelessly and sink to my knees in the soft grass. I remove my helmet, tossing it to the ground in front of me. The world feels too quiet, but after a fight it always does.

I pull off my gauntlets. My hands look how all my skin feels--burned, bloodied and raw, covered in weeping blisters. I massage them in slow, small circles, then move on to my face and temples, wincing silently at each touch. Eventually Namia appears in front of me, looking more concerned than usual. I can barely hear her when she speaks; it sounds like I’m underwater. “Claaus? Nim says you took quite a beating, and from the looks of you, he didn’t even have to exaggerate anything.” She reaches toward me with a damp cloth in hand--I take it from her and begin patting gingerly at my face, noticing how bloody my ears apparently are.

I cough to break the silence. “What about Nim’s artifact? Did he find it?”

Namia cringes and looks up over my shoulder; I turn around as much as my stiffening neck will allow. Nim hovers nearby, shifting his weight from foot to foot with an uncharacteristic look of concern of his face. I can’t see Charlize, but Filbert meets my eyes for a moment, then turns and slips his blindfold on, looking all about.

Filbert says something to Nim, too quiet for me to hear, but Nim pulls his small satchel from his back, unfastens the clasps and pulls it open. Glancing inside, he quickly pulls something out--a dark shape that’s harder to focus my eyes on than everything else is. Only when he begins doing tricks with it, flipping it through the air like a shadow, do I figure out that what I’m trying to look at is the dagger of the Nocturne: the Will-O-Wisp.

“Will-o-wisps...” I mutter. “Heh.” My voice feels syrupy in my ears. I turn back to Namia and start to chuckle, but end up coughing instead. Namia puts a cool hand to the side of my face; I can’t help but notice that it still comes away covered in blood. “Stay here a moment, Claaus,” she says, still so softly. She stands, goes to retrieve her bag of supplies. I don’t move, content to sit in silence, slowly wiping the blood from my ears and neck. When she returns, she’s holding her bag in one hand and a short ashwood staff in the other.

Druidic healing feels very different than the clerical variety. When I drink a healing potion, it feels like the prickling wounds simply close up and disappear. When a druid uses healing magic, it feels more like growing entirely new skin and muscle in a matter of seconds. It is a disturbing sensation, but not altogether unpleasant, like a release of water from inside my ear.

In less than a minute, I feel completely refreshed; every bit of my skin soft and new and a little pink. I smile gratefully at Namia and stand up, retrieving my gear from the grass. We walk to the edge of the riverbank to join the others, and they look up from their conversation and smile back--even Charlize is showing her relief. I sit down next to her, facing the sun over the plains, and begin slowly cleaning off each piece of equipment in turn. As Nim begins telling the women what happened, Filbert hands me a small river pebble, nodding up at him. “For when he starts lying,” he explains, smirking and revealing a handful more in his palm.



And now, some very belated comments for you guys!

@Gareth

You work in a factory that smelts iron, and were rather delighted to eventually discover that it smelts people just fine too.

Hehehe. Your prose has been lovely as always prior to this as well, but I had to chuckle at this line.


I am going to kill you, Elizabeth.

This, and the whole scene following it, is great. Everything is crystal-clear and the language is very smooth.


"I...think I am too, Prince." I spoke the last word with significant hesitation, not knowing if it was correct.

Personally, I am picturing her saying "Prince" with a question mark, in which case you might as well put it in there. If that's not what you meant, the description of her speech could be clarified a bit.

Overall, I really loved this one (obviously you still owe us the other two, and I'm still hoping you'll finish HoaTP eventually :smalltongue:). There are a couple of sort of strange things plot-wise that I didn't really notice until after, but it's unclear where the man went (or whether it matters, but as they're "underground somewhere" it might be nice to get anything else about him before the snippet ends (obviously he's not actually important, so Astrid wouldn't draw attention to him or anything, but still). Somewhat tangentially related, some more descriptive movement at the end would be nice--Astrid is far enough away that Lizzie has to jog to catch up to her (when does this happen, anyway? They're right next to each other; Astrid saunters away; Lizzie has to jog to keep pace?), but unless you're in the Matrix subway stations aren't just long empty hallways. If they're going upstairs, or wherever, it would be nice to get some more description of what that movement actually is.


@SleepyShadow

The old dwarf laughed heartily, clutching at his sides in mirth. "Ye elves all look like lasses to me!"

Oh my god this is wonderful.


"I'm out of spells," Ree sighed resignedly. "Again."

"I'm not surprised," Jerea muttered

Heheheheh. "I hate playing below level 5." "You only ever roll casters!" "Yeah exactly."


corpses piling up around the four adventurers.

Do you mean to tell me that the players didn't try to construct a wall of deal zombies in the middle of the fight? For shame!


"I can't believe we did it!" Saitomi cried excitedly, jumping up and down atop the spectral centaur's remains.

This group just produces the weirdest scenes. I'm a bit curious what constitues "remains" for a spectral creature, though.


"Looks like Hecarim won his last blue ribbon," Ree snickered as she crushed the defeated foe's helmet beneath her boot.

"Really?" a passing centaur grumbled dryly.

Aaaahahaha. To be fair, that was a pretty good reference :smallamused:


"Wait, she died?" Ree asked, confused.

Saitomi sighed sadly as he looked down at the young elf's corpse in his arms. "Remember? She healed you instead of herself with her last healing spell. She saved you."

Okay, I take back what I said earlier about weird scenes; this is way funnier (/sadder/awkwarder--is nothing sacred to you? I feel so bad for laughing now!). Ree and Jerea talking to each other, the latter holding the limp body of the Healer NPC, and Ree's has no idea that she's dead. Awesome (and I really like the way you reveal this scene to the reader!).

Excellent snippet; the only broad criticism I'd mention is that we're not getting a lot of character development (I'm aware that this is a hazard with your group, lol). I don't have any easy way to differentiate the non-Ree personalities in my mind at the moment, which I think is largely from them mostly interacting with Ree (since basically everyone seems like a friendly, good-aligned, generally cheerful person in comparison). If you can find a place to toss in some conversation just between Saitomi & Jerea (and any other NPCs they manage to find without killing I guess) it would help that a lot.

Winds
2012-08-10, 09:05 PM
My computer has been unuseable for a while, however, I am near to accessing my pre-written snippets soon.

So, coming soon:

What on earth have you been up to while I was gone?

Lady Moreta
2012-08-13, 07:54 AM
No One Likes A Paladin
or: Since When Can The Elf Fight?
With the undead unable to follow us, it’s just Sulderis and Maga to keep any assailants away from Moroch and I. I hope the Elf is up to it; he’s been twitchy since he had a discussion with a couple Drow back at the Grim Procession. Maga seems tough enough, anyway.

We enter the left door at the end of this short hallway. Inside, it’s what I’d expected: a cathedral. Row upon row of pews; the floor decorated with the same square-and-diamond pattern on the doors. Still Hallowed. Still—

“Prepare yourselves, foul necromancers! Your stain will not sully these aged walls!” The brass voice calls out from the opposite side of the room, and then immediately come the sounds of hurried feet and more shouts about “evildoers”. Paladins. Terrific.

Sulderis jumps a couple of pews, sending his light ahead of him so we can get a good look at three heavily muscled men with wolflike heads, clad in white and gold. Archon paladins. Of course they are.

At least I know how to deal with archons. As their leader engages Sulderis, I draw the symbols in the air and force the words of power from my throat. The oppressive Hallow makes it feel like my mouth is full of potatoes and my hands swimming in mercury, but I force the spell through to completion. The walkway next to the Elf sizzles and flares with blinding energy as a fiendish grizzly bear roars into being next to him, blocking the archons’ path to the frailer members of the team.

Not that that matters, of course. These savages have no idea how much trouble they’re in for against one bear. The leader does engage with the grizzly and the Elf, but the two others disappear, reappearing between Moroch and I with a thunderclap.

Startled, I stumble back, into the side wall, and fumble for a bit of gauze in my spell pouch. I’ve no intention of going hand-to-hand with these sword-wielding brutes, so as Moroch turns to run back the way we came, I complete my transformation into a harmless mist, and drift gently upwards out of reach to watch the battle unfold.

From my vantage point between the two rooms I watch Maga chase the two archons following Moroch—growing up as a slave to the trolls doesn’t leave much room for fear, I suppose. Moroch beats a hasty retreat to the skeletons in the next room, taking occasional hits from the archons but keeping his feet and wearing them down thanks to a fiery shield I’m not familiar with. Sulderis and the bear soon overpower the paladin fighting them, and as Moroch finally gets behind his skeletal monsters, Sulderis comes tearing out of the church toward the two remaining archons.

They blink away from him, past the skeletons and next to Moroch once again, but Sulderis catches one on his blade mid-spell, and only a messy lower half of that archon arrives to block Moroch’s escape. The last archon, surrounded now by all the skeletons and the bear, yells some defiant challenge, but he barely has time to swing his blade before a Missile barrage from the Elf puts him down for good. I should find out what’s eating at him, maybe aggravate it. Whiny as he is, it’s making him a better fighter.

Okay, so Lord_Gareth poked me via PM about this thread again today, so this is me sheepishly wandering back in. As of right now, I fully intend to read everything, but I probably won't comment on it - 6 pages is just too much - unless there is something that someone specifically requests I read (Gareth, wasn't there something you were badgering me about earlier?)

I am however, commenting on this one above, because the ending made me snicker :smallamused: - I thought the battle itself was good, you gave enough information for us to understand what was going on and who was doing what, without getting bogged down in all the little details (which is what happens to me when I write battle scenes, you can pack a surprising amount into 6 seconds!). The only thing I'd suggest would be make the last two sentences a separate paragraph to give it more oopmh.

SleepyShadow
2012-08-13, 02:13 PM
When we last left our heroes, Claaus, Nim, and Filbert had been sucked into a pocket plane inside a treasure chest, where Nim made a deal with an Inevitable. Then the three of them were pulled into a copy of the treasure chest they were standing inside.

I enjoyed your snippet quite a lot. I think perhaps my favorite part was the differential made between clerical healing and druidic healing. It was quite an interesting bit of description.

As a side-note, I must agree that will-o-wisps are a bit under CR'd.


This snippet brings the party to a premature end, when an otherwise doable fight turns lethal.

Blood In The Sand (or "What Should We Do Now?")
Jerea, Ree, and Saitomi spent several days in town spending their hard-earned wealth on armor, weaponry, and small magical trinkets. Given their status as outsiders to the area, it only took a few minutes of asking around for the dwarf blacksmith to track them down. Jerea was the first to be found, the young woman seated by the town square's fountain while she entertained the local children with stories of her adventures. The blacksmith approached with a stern nod.

"I have a favor to ask you," he grumbled.

Jerea shushed the excitable children, then smiled at the dwarf. "What can I do for you?"

"A friend of mine needs some help," the blacksmith explained grimly. "His ship has been commandeered by a giant and his followers."

"Who your friend and where can we find him?" Jerea asked, her smile fading to a frown.

The dwarf sighed in relief. "Gildas is at the lighthouse keeping an eye on his ship. The giant's men have been loading crates on-board."

"Don't worry, my friends and I will help him out," Jerea said determinedly, rising to her feet. "Are there any crewmen on the ship that need to be rescued?"

"I don't know. There certainly could be," the blacksmith answered.

With a smile of confidence, Jerea left to search for her friends, promising to tell the children more stories when she returned. Saitomi and Ree were easy enough to find. Neither had much creativity, so both had been hanging out in the tavern for the past few days. Ree sulked in the corner, while Saitomi sat at a large table with a group of locals, happily losing his money to them while playing cards. He stood up and waved excitedly at Jerea as she entered the tavern.

"Hi Jerea!" he cried out, smiling widely.

"Hello Sai-Sai," Jerea replied, using the pet name she had for him. "We have a mission."

Ree knocked her mug of ale to the floor as she staggered to her feet. "It's about time. What are we doing?"

"The blacksmith's friend's ship has been stolen by a giant," Jerea explained. "Gildas is at the lighthouse, so he'll probably have more information for us."

"A giant?" Saitomi gasped.

Jerea nodded sagely. "According to my research, giants are powerfully strong creatures capable of inflicting massive damage and hurling boulders as easily as we could throw pebbles."

"Anyone who's flipped through the monster manual knows that," Ree grumbled. "Let's get going. Taverns are boring."


***

The trio followed the merchant's road to the beach, their journey uneventful save for a brief skirmish with a band of goblins. The beach was a pristine white, the dark ocean waters glittering in the afternoon sun. A lighthouse overlooked the sandy shore, and much farther down the beach the three adventurers could see hurried activity taking place near a massive galleon warship.

"Let's go see if we can find Gildas in the lighthouse," Jerea suggested.

The three walked casually across the sandy beach toward the white-stone lighthouse. Suddenly the sand beside them erupted as a figure burst forth from hiding. A wicked barbed chain shot out and pierced into Ree's back, the chain ripping out through her chest. The figure wrenched the chain back out of Ree's body, and with a gurgling cry the sorceress collapsed to the ground.

The figure was a tall, nimble creature garbed in a long hooded cloak almost identical in color to the sand. What at first appeared to be metal armor quickly became apparent as the creature's body as it stalked toward Jerea and Saitomi with murderous purpose, the bloody barbed chain clutched tightly in its metallic hands.

"Sorcerer Ree eliminated," it droned out, its speech occasionally interrupted by whirs and clicks. "Mage Slayer mode activated. Primary target: Cleric Jerea."

Jerea barely had time to ready her maul before the warforged struck with deadly accuracy. It lashed out with its barbed chain and yanked her feet out from beneath her, sending her crashing into the sand. With blinding speed it smashed its clawed foot into her chest, effortlessly cracking her ribs and knocking the wind out of her. Saitomi drew his blades and furiously attacked, but the metallic assassin nimbly evaded the clumsy attacks.

"Fighter Saitomi assessment: minimal threat," it droned.

Jerea staggered to her feet, but another barrage of attacks from the warforged sent her to the ground again, and this time she could not find the strength to get up again. Saitomi struck again and again, but his twin blades could not find purchase.

"Stop hurting Jerea!" he cried out furiously. "Attack me! Attack me!"

"Mage-Slayer mode deactivated," the warforged droned. "Target: Fighter Saitomi. Stealth mode initiated."

The hooded assassin suddenly vanished from view. Saitomi looked around in a panic, but he could do nothing but scream as he felt the warforged's barbed chain rip through his body.

"Targets eliminated. Objective complete," the assassin droned as he dropped Saitomi's lifeless corpse to the ground.

Lord_Gareth
2012-08-13, 03:27 PM
Okay, so Lord_Gareth poked me via PM about this thread again today, so this is me sheepishly wandering back in. As of right now, I fully intend to read everything, but I probably won't comment on it - 6 pages is just too much - unless there is something that someone specifically requests I read (Gareth, wasn't there something you were badgering me about earlier?)

I am however, commenting on this one above, because the ending made me snicker :smallamused: - I thought the battle itself was good, you gave enough information for us to understand what was going on and who was doing what, without getting bogged down in all the little details (which is what happens to me when I write battle scenes, you can pack a surprising amount into 6 seconds!). The only thing I'd suggest would be make the last two sentences a separate paragraph to give it more oopmh.

I poked you about vampires (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13626567&postcount=161)

Winds
2012-08-14, 01:19 PM
@SleepyShadow

Ah, the problems of unique encounters. It sounds like an interesting campaign...


And now, I attempt a style change!


Elle's account: While Kalach was gone


When I awoke, we were in another metal city, this one in ruins. Somehow the angles were wrong, but I didn't learn why until much later. When I awoke, I was in the air-ship, Logrim beside me. His body still lived, but his soul would not return.

I don't know what Anderson did with the remains to this day.

Elle and Kol returned to the ship eventually, with a man in plate mail in tow. The aura of righteousness radiating from him marked his nature as a paladin, the ram's horns jutting from his helm spoke to him being a hellbred. Elle and Kol themselves were...different. They carried themselves differently, with greater confidence than before. Their hair had turned white, though they hadn't aged. Kol didn't want to discuss it, and Elle...I didn't see her again until much later. This is a transcript of what they did while I was gone, from her perspective...

So we all drew from that magic deck. You and that short guy just collapsed, which was really weird. Not as weird as the rest, though. When I drew my card, I just got this feeling, like...like someone hated me. The big guy with the horns, though, that was really weird. When he drew it, this light came on. I couldn't see for a while, but when it faded he was wearing this cape thing. Fur and sable, very fancy. I thought about trying to take it, but...really, how would I sell something like that? Even before the whole zombie thing.

I remember that cloak. If you had taken it, it would have started complaing about you stealing it.

...Riiiight. Anyway, after that we found the doorknockers. When we mimed knocking on a door with them, a door appeared out of thin air. The door would lead to-

I know. That's where we are now. Would you mind explaining about the city now?

Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on.

I don't care how drunk we were, there is no way that was my idea.

Then why were you wearing my stuff, moron? Anyway. The city, New York. I'd been there before, but it was really different...the streets...didn't add up, somehow. Anderson put the VTOL done on a building, so we could go find the tower thingy. The walls were covered in pictures, and what I think were words, but none of us could read them. Even looking at them made us feel sick.

When we got out of the building, my thought about the streets turned out to be right. Everyting was off, in ways I still don't get.

We did find the tower, on the edge of the harbor. On an island...sort of...I don't know what that stuff was. More importantly, there was a huge gate behind the tower. Like, the tower was just big enough to block the door. We didn't know what to do about that, so we went to the tower. The entrance was already open.

No guardian?

Well, there was a skeleton. Huge, winged thing, three heads, looked like it was made out of several different animals...it had a goat head, a lion head, and something I didn't recognize, since you ask.

Sounds like a chimera. I don't think you could have talked past that very easily.

Like I care! Inside, the big doorway was already open, and there were people inside, doing some kind of ritual. They had the sword, and it looked like they were gonna claim the tower. And, they did. For Cul...Cuth...Theelu...

Ah. I know what you're refering to.

You just keep gettting freakier, man. Anyway, I guess Culthegoo wasn't good enough, because the tower came down. The cultists seemed upset, they didn't even bother leaving.

But when the tower came done, the giant gate opened. The thing that came out...it was kinda green, vaugely human-shaped...but it had big wings, and lots of tentacle things where the mouth should have been. I can barely think about that thing, even when it was that long ago. That's when our hair turned white. Anyway, the thing headed for the ocean. We tried to run, but no matter how we ran, it always seemed to be behind us. We did get clear, but we had to meet Anderson outside the city.

Ah. That's about when I woke up.

Yeah. Wearing different armor, and with that dark smoke coming off of you.

Hmm. Put like that, I think I understand your upset now.

Glad to hear it. It really was way freaky. So I decided to leave and do my own thing. This ring meant I didn't need food or water, and I could take catnaps and feel like I slept all night. So I didn't need anyone else.

So are you done with the crappy reporter deal yet?

I suppose so.

Good. I'm outta here. See you around, I guess.

Eurus
2012-08-14, 04:49 PM
Here's an attempt of mine to write a story set in the Scion 'verse. Hopefully it's alright?

The diner was cool and unthreatening, glowing white under the fluorescent bulbs even at five AM. The windows were squares of blackness, thin barriers to hold back the quiet blank vastness. Shuffling wordlessly, Diane planted herself at one of the empty booths and nodded her thanks when the teenage waitress (trying to suppress a yawn, she noticed) set down a pitcher of coffee.

She kind of hated coffee, and it was probably burnt anyway, but the caffeine was welcome right now. A generous dose of sugar and cream killed the bitterness, and she finished the first cup quickly before taking her time with the second. She almost imagined she could hear a clock ticking somewhere, counting out the seconds with an impassive beat.

Ugh, she shouldn't be up this early - or late, as the case may be. It was making her internal monologue wax poetic. At this rate she'd be spinning lines about love-lorn hearts and drinking alone within--

Ah. Grace is here.

It was almost funny, in a not-very-funny-at-all way. Nothing about the woman really demanded attention, but every eye in the diner (not that there were many, at the moment) flicked briefly toward the door to note her. Not intentionally, or even really consciously, but they noticed her, Diane herself included.

Between the denim jacket, cowboy boots, and curly golden locks, she looked vaguely like some country-music singer, but she pulled it off pretty well. Annoyingly well, actually; Diane couldn't help noticing that Grace probably looked better than she did herself, despite being almost twenty years older.

There was nothing particularly seductive or theatrical about the way she walked, but it still made Diane mentally refer to it as a "strut" (and damn, those legs didn't help). The older woman eventually took a seat at the booth opposite her, nodding a greeting and pouring her own coffee -- black, of course. The waitress returned again, and the rumble of Diane's stomach got the better of her. She ordered a too-big plate of greasy breakfast food, and Grace chuckled in a way that made Diane blush slightly, then kick herself for letting the woman get under her skin so easily. She was supposed to be cool, impassive. Let Grace do the work trying to win her over.

The waitress finally tucked her pencil behind her ear and left. Sensing Grace start to gather her thoughts, Diane took the opportunity to get in an opening shot.

"So what's up, Mom?"

Grace just sighed, like the calm mature one willing to let the jab slide, and leaned back slightly.

"It's nice to see you in person. Have you given any thought to our last conversation?"

Obviously. It's not every day your long-lost mother e-mails you to tell you that oh by the way, she's a Greek goddess and you're a demigod. She'd spent the last two weeks trying to dismiss it as insanity or some kind of sick joke, but that was the annoying part. She couldn't disbelieve the woman, it just wasn't something she was capable of. Everything she said just seemed so perfectly obvious, a self-evident truth like "one equals one" even in the complete absence of evidence. No supernatural displays, no confusing explanations... Grace just told her, and Diane believed it no matter how much she didn't want to.

It was a moot point by now. She'd grudgingly come to accept it, and if she wasn't so dead-set on resenting the woman she might've actually been kind of excited. This was serious fantasy stuff, and her inner twelve-year-old actually had to restrain a squee when that giant brass-feathered condor swooped down on her a few days ago. Might've even killed her, but she'd managed to duck inside. She'd dug out one of those gorgeous metal feathers later where it had lodged itself two inches deep in a brick wall, but it rusted into a pile of dust that smelled like mothballs after a few hours.

Which was supposedly the reason why Grace was here in person. To hand over her "birthright", whatever that meant. Diane was pretty much here to pick a fight, though. Years of resentment didn't just go away overnight. Diane was looking forward to seeing Grace do a little groveling, although she still wasn't sure if she planned to grudgingly forgive her or not.

"Not really. Spent more time wondering how the hell you have the nerve to show up again after twenty years."

Grace's gaze fell to the table at that, Diane noted with satisfaction.

"I'm sorry. I was... younger back then. I can't make any excuses."

"Younger than what, exactly? Western civilization?"

"It doesn't work like that, dear. There was nothing I could-"

"Like hell!"

She snapped back without thinking, and was thankful to note that the diner's other occupants were utterly oblivious. Figures. Grace wouldn't want anyone else to notice such an embarrassing argument.

"You could have changed his mind, or made him leave!You could have taken me with you, god! I just... why?!"

Grace shifted suddenly, lifting her head to meet Diane's gaze, and the air seemed to chill around them. It was a subtle shift of her stance, her tone of voice, but it hit Diane like a hammer.

"I could have, yes. I could have killed him, even. I could have shattered his mind, turned his friends against him, driven him to suicide and kept my hands clean. But I didn't."

Diane was unconsciously recoiling, wishing she could pass right through the bench behind her or vanish into thin air. Every word Grace spoke was soft, but it pounded through her mind like thunder, engraving itself in her memory. Her eyes were like cold fire, her skin was like marble. She was beautiful, gorgeous, and seeing her angry or hurt felt like a knife in Diane's chest.

"Why? Why am I here, talking to you like an equal? Why ask for your forgiveness, when I could make you get on your knees and beg for mine?"

She'd do it, too. Diane could already feel herself trying to slide off the booth, to throw herself down and beg for forgiveness. All she felt was an icy spiral of shame and fear. She would give anything to make Grace happy, to erase that pain, to see her smile.

Then Grace seemed to relax, to uncoil with a weary expression and a sigh, and the spell was broken. Diane's fluttering heart and clenching gut slowly returned to normal, her pale face re-colored, her tunnel vision subsided.

"You can't be two things at once, Diane. You're going to have to make a decision, or someone else will make it for you."

Grace was already standing up, sitting a wrapped package on the table.

"I don't need you to forgive me. I don't need you to love me, or even like me. But I need your help."

Feeling vaguely shell-shocked, Diane unfolded the small bundle and found a knife -- no, more like a dagger. Bright gold, with an oddly curved edge and an apple-shaped pommel. The blade was etched with something in Greek. As if hearing her thoughts, Grace nodded to the blade.

"Its name is Eleftheria. Forged from the apple of discord, to cut ties and sever bindings. I figure it's about time the damned thing actually did some good."

Grace picked up her purse, and gave Diane one last look.

"I'm giving you a choice, which is more than most of you get. Turn the blade on yourself tonight, and the ties of fate and lineage will be severed. You'll be utterly mortal again. Otherwise, alea iacta est. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

And then she was gone. Simply ceased to exist, and it was like the room was a little dimmer and colder for her absence. And Diane just stared at the knife, mind blank.

Dr Bwaa
2012-08-14, 07:03 PM
Good to see you back Lady Moreta! Suggestion implemented! :smallbiggrin: I'd love comments/suggestions on any of my snippets from the Wanderers campaign if you feel like it, but six pages is definitely a lot :smalleek: Glad to have you back in any case!

Winds, SleepyShadow: I'll comment on your stuff tonight, if I can swing it!

Eurus: Welcome! See above! Also if there's a campaign name or snippet name you want me to use, just let me know!

@All: I'm so sorry for the quality of Mist and Light; I've made a bunch of changes and hopefully it doesn't suck quite so much now (though I'm glad you liked the old version anyway, SS :smalltongue:).

Winds
2012-08-14, 08:42 PM
@Eurus

Interesting. I know little of the setting, but if your snippet does any justice at all, it needs to join my list of systems/settings to try.

@Dr. Bwaa

I would advise against revision. It may be a personal thing, but I find if I refise rather than redo, I never stop. Anyway, I found it good either way.

SleepyShadow
2012-08-15, 01:13 PM
@Dr. Bwaa

I would advise against revision. It may be a personal thing, but I find if I refise rather than redo, I never stop. Anyway, I found it good either way.

Agreed. I'd say leave it the way it was, Bwaa.

Dr Bwaa
2012-08-15, 06:24 PM
Re: editing:
YOU'RE TOO LATE. AHAHAHAHAHAHA. I WILL NEVER STOP REVISING.
http://www.mspaintadventures.com/storyfiles/hs2/02496.gif

On to the comments.

@SleepyShadow

His ship has been commandeered by a giant and his followers

Yeesh. Giants are scary business.


galleon warship

A galleon is a warship by definition, no?


"Fighter Saitomi assessment: minimal threat," it droned.

Insulting the fighter while mauling his cleric/potential love-interest? Classy! :smallbiggrin:


"Targets eliminated. Objective complete," the assassin droned as he dropped Saitomi's lifeless corpse to the ground.


an otherwise doable fight

0_0 I'm... not sure I agree with your assessment here! This was incredibly one-sided, even one vs two! Will we ever get to find out what the deal was here? (Also I really just enjoyed reading this snippet, as painful as it was. I kept hoping Saitomi would get lucky even though you prefaced the thing with "they all die").


@Winds

Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on.

I don't care how drunk we were, there is no way that was my idea.

hehehehe. I'm glad you brought that back up :smallbiggrin:


Anderson put the VTOL done on a building, so we could go find the tower thingy.

...what? I'm just really confused here.


Like I care!

I like that we're getting to see more of Elle's personality here.


So are you done with the crappy reporter deal yet?

This being on its own paragraph and so abrupt was a bit jarring. It felt like the speaker should have changed, but it didn't. I think if Elle had mentioned the "reporter" jab earlier once so this would be a callback, or if she'd expressed some annoyance at having to recount their adventures, it would be a bit smoother. Overall, sounds like they had a hell of an adventure while Kalach was out :smalleek:


@Eurus
First, my customary welcome/warning! Welcome to the thread! I try my very best to comment on everything everyone posts. If you don't want me to critique your work, or if there's something in particular you'd like me to focus my critique on (style, tone, broad themes, close reading, etc), just let me know!

The windows were squares of blackness, thin barriers to hold back that quiet blank vastness that she couldn't stand.

First, I really like the phrase "quiet blank vastness". Your two -ness nouns in a row here stand out a bit more than you probably intended, though, and the ending "that she couldn't stand" seems arbitrarily tacked-on; it doesn't flow with the rest of the sentence.


the teenage waitress ... sat down a pitcher of coffee.

*set
"Sat down" is a thing you did; "set down" is a thing you did to something else.


At this rate she'd be spinning lines about love-lorn hearts and drinking alone within--

Ah. Grace is here.

Nice moment. "Spinning lines" is a bit of an awkward phrase in my opinion, though.


On the surface, she was unimpressive enough.

You say this, and then follow up a full paragraph describing how good she looks.


Diane couldn't help noticing that Grace probably looked better than she did herself, at almost twenty years older.

This sounds like Diane is the one who is older (because of the proximity of "herself", which makes it kind of a weird sentence. But, we find out next paragraph that actually the opposite is true. When there's a 20-year difference between characters' ages, it's important to make sure it's clear which one is which.


the rumble of her stomach got the better of her. She ordered a too-big plate of greasy breakfast food

It's not clear who "she" is; the last subject you have is the waitress so that's obviously not right, but then before that it's Grace--which we find out later is also incorrect. There's nothing wrong with "the rumble of Diane's stomach".


"So what's up, Mom?"

Okay this is kind of weird given how much time we just spent ogling Grace's legs.


her inner twelve-year-old actually had to restrain a squee when that giant brass-feathered condor swooped down on her a few days ago.

That is some restraint!


"Younger than what, exactly? Western civilization?"

Lol. I like it, though Diane isn't showing as much discomfort with apparently being a demigod as I would have expected.


She'd do it, too. Diane could already feel herself trying to slide off the booth, to throw herself down and beg for forgiveness. All she felt was an icy spiral of shame and fear. She would give anything to make Grace happy, to erase that pain, to see her smile.

This is very well-done. We're seeing the strength of Grace's personality in a way that didn't come through in her introduction, because that was exposition, whereas this is demonstration.


Diane unfolds the small bundle

Watch your tenses.


with an oddly curved shape and an apple-shaped pommel

The repetetiveness detracts from the otherwise very elegant description here.


Turn the blade on yourself tonight, and the ties of fate and lineage will be severed.

Woah.

I liked this snippet a lot! Your prose flows very well and you have some great descriptive moments. Both characters come off very well and you do a really good job with Diane's ambivalence. It's a great first contribution; I hope you're planning to stick around for more!

Kaun
2012-08-15, 09:05 PM
I thought i might throw my hat in the ring here as i often drop in and read through bits and pieces that catch my interest, this is a first attempt and i would appreciate any pointers that anyone wants to offer...

... so here we go.


Marigolds
The power that smell holds over ones memory baffles me at times. I stand here on the battle field surrounded by the blood and ash of the fallen and all it takes is the slightest hint of Marigold on the breeze and I am taken back to a time with out care, a time when I was youngling only a handful of seasons old kneeling in elder Turan’s tent watching his gnarled hands work the mortar and pestle.

“It is all about balance Verdus that is my point…”

He stops mid sentence and studies the contents of the bowl with a discerning eye, after a moment he adds a pinch of dried herbs I don’t recognise then sets to it with the pestle again.

“You must distance your self from ideals such as good and evil boy, they are merely constructs of idle minds! pretty words given the illusion of true meaning.”

At this he sets the Mortar down before him and adds more kindle to the small work fire that occupies the middle of the tent.

“Good and evil are nought but words, powerful words true but words none the less. Many have and will take up the banner of these ideals and shed blood and die for them but when the sun sets they are little more then a cup that will hold no water, useless and empty.”

The Elder snorts quietly in concentration as he sets his mixture to heat in a cobalt pot atop the flame.

“You are to be a watcher, it lurks in your eyes like the waiting hunter boy and you must lift yourself above such trivialities and perceive the entire picture.”

His hands wave to encompass the entire tent

“Life requires opposition, it thrives on it! It drives us onwards where otherwise we may fall pray idleness, it breeds strength and determination.”

The steam that rises from the simmering mixture lays thick in the air and fogs my mind, I notice the elder is lost in a thought far away from here as he absentmindedly pokes at the fire with a willow stick.

“We must watch for the absence, the nothingness that is ever lurking on the edge of perception. It is foul creatures with out name that want nothing more then an end.”

With these words the old Minotaur seems lost in the dancing flames of the fire, his battle scared features relax for a moment and it as tho the years slide from his face like water of the side of a tent. The moment of quiet stretches painfully long and I am forced to prompt him for fear of losing an end to his tale.

“an end to what master?”

I watch as his eye sharpen and the years return.

“An end to everything.”

Although I did not realise it at the time with those four words my future was set.

SleepyShadow
2012-08-15, 09:52 PM
0_0 I'm... not sure I agree with your assessment here! This was incredibly one-sided, even one vs two! Will we ever get to find out what the deal was here? (Also I really just enjoyed reading this snippet, as painful as it was. I kept hoping Saitomi would get lucky even though you prefaced the thing with "they all die").


In theory it was doable. The baddie was only one level higher than them.

Eurus
2012-08-16, 12:37 AM
@Eurus
First, my customary welcome/warning! Welcome to the thread! I try my very best to comment on everything everyone posts. If you don't want me to critique your work, or if there's something in particular you'd like me to focus my critique on (style, tone, broad themes, close reading, etc), just let me know!

Oh, awesome! That's always appreciated.

First, I really like the phrase "quiet blank vastness". Your two -ness nouns in a row here stand out a bit more than you probably intended, though, and the ending "that she couldn't stand" seems arbitrarily tacked-on; it doesn't flow with the rest of the sentence.[/quote]

Hmm, fair point with the repetition, didn't notice that bit.


*set
"Sat down" is a thing you did; "set down" is a thing you did to something else.

Whoops.


You say this, and then follow up a full paragraph describing how good she looks.

Heh, oops. Probably one of those times where I started writing a paragraph and it ends up going off in a completely different direction than originally expected.


This sounds like Diane is the one who is older (because of the proximity of "herself", which makes it kind of a weird sentence. But, we find out next paragraph that actually the opposite is true. When there's a 20-year difference between characters' ages, it's important to make sure it's clear which one is which.

Good point, I'll try and fix it.


It's not clear who "she" is; the last subject you have is the waitress so that's obviously not right, but then before that it's Grace--which we find out later is also incorrect. There's nothing wrong with "the rumble of Diane's stomach".

Herp. Pronouns, they vex me.


Okay this is kind of weird given how much time we just spent ogling Grace's legs.

Hah! Okay, yeah. The intention was for it to be kind of scathingly sarcastic, but I did a poor job of expressing that.


That is some restraint!

Well, "squee" generally refers to a sort of excited fangirl-y noise (like "oh my god I'm living in a fantasy novel this is so cool if I survive the next five minutes"), so it would have been a little inappropriate at the time. :smallbiggrin:


Lol. I like it, though Diane isn't showing as much discomfort with apparently being a demigod as I would have expected.

Ah, the idea is that she mostly came to terms with that over the past week or so (had been corresponding with Grace by e-mail and phone for a while), but perhaps I didn't make that clear.


This is very well-done. We're seeing the strength of Grace's personality in a way that didn't come through in her introduction, because that was exposition, whereas this is demonstration.

Well thank you! I hoped that I wasn't too crude or heavy-handed with it, I was kind of trying to express the idea of "mortal shell or not, this is still a goddess, and she's been playing nice with you until now".


Watch your tenses.

The repetetiveness detracts from the otherwise very elegant description here.

Ah, good catches. Will fix.


I liked this snippet a lot! Your prose flows very well and you have some great descriptive moments. Both characters come off very well and you do a really good job with Diane's ambivalence. It's a great first contribution; I hope you're planning to stick around for more!

Well thank you very much! I actually might write up some more Scion scenes in the near future, it's a very fun setting.

Dr Bwaa
2012-08-16, 12:50 PM
@Kaun
Welcome! It's good to see more people starting to join in over here. As I mentioned to Eurus (and everyone), if there's anything specific you'd like me to focus my critiques on, let me know!
EDIT: Let me preface this by saying I really liked this snippet and I want to read more. I just have a tendency not to be very tactful when I'm writing critique, so please don't think that there was nothing I liked in here; I just didn't happen to point it out in the midst of this comment-storm. Sorry :smallfrown:


The power that smell holds over ones memory

*one's


battle field

Pretty sure this is normally one word, but I don't know that it's actually wrong this way. Damn you for making me think!


the blood and ash of the fallen

Blood of the fallen I get. Ash of the fallen is a little more abstract. Clearly, people have been burned, but having this phrase so explicitly parallel "blood of the fallen" makes it seem like "of" should be filling the same role in both phrases--that is, "ash belonging to the fallen". Which is presumably not what you mean, and as a result it's a bit jarring.


Marigold

I have no idea what marigold smells like. Give me a bit of description here besides the name.


all it takes is .... and I am taken back to a time

This would be more sentence-like as "all it takes is...to take me back". Also, your point here is that despite where the speaker actually is, he/she is remembering the pleasant days of youth. This would come across more clearly if you were more explicit about the contrast "Though I stand..." or "...marigold on the breeze takes me back, away from the bloodied fallen, to a time..." Does that make sense?


a time with out care

*without


I stand here on the battle field surrounded by the blood and ash of the fallen and all it takes is the slightest hint of Marigold on the breeze and I am taken back to a time with out care, a time when I was a youngling only a handful of seasons old kneeling in elder Turan’s tent watching his gnarled hands work the mortar and pestle.

This sentence is enormous: consider breaking it up so you can focus more on the exposition of the past without confusing the reader with the long sentence structure. Some punctuation would help, as well (any time you write 25+ words with no punctuation, you should probably check to see if you need a comma or two). I've bolded a word you left out, as well.


youngling only a handful of seasons old

And more specifically, this is redundant. Just pick one or the other.


“It is all about balance Verdus that is my point…”

There are two possibilities here. The first is that you simply forgot the punctuation (there should be commas after "balance" and "Verdus"). The second is that, this being a memory, you left it out intentionally to give it more of a stream-of-consciousness feel. The problem with the second possibility is that actual quotations don't tend to work well in stream-of-consciousness, since they tend to be more specific than implied by the style, so if you want to do that (and by all means, I like the thought), you should take that into account and make it clearer what you're trying to do--string memories and quotes together more closely/vaguely; only show partial quotations--and then only from important moments. This goes for the other memory-dialogue in this piece as well.


He stops mid sentence and studies the contents of the bowl with a discerning eye, after a moment he adds a pinch of dried herbs I don’t recognise then sets to it with the pestle again.

This is at least two sentences; break it up (or at least use a semicolon instead of that comma). Also, given that this is a flashback, past tense would probably be sensible to use throughout this passage (eg. "He had stopped mid-sentence and studied..."), and would provide a nice, clear separation from the present-tense battlefield--again, making it clear that despite the current situation, the scent of marigolds has triggered a full-on flashback.


“You must distance your self from ideals such as good and evil boy, they are merely constructs of idle minds! pretty words given the illusion of true meaning.”

*yourself. Also there should be a comma after "evil"; there are other missing commas in the text but I'm not going to make any more mention of them.


At this he sets the Mortar down before him and adds more kindle to the small work fire that occupies the middle of the tent.

1. Is there a reason "mortar" is capitolized?
2. If the fire's already going, it shouldn't need kindling, which is just for getting the fire started, only a step up from tinder (also, kindle is a verb; kindling is the noun). A lit fire gets stoked, or takes more fuel, but only needs to be kindled if it's in danger of going out. I think your intention was to show that the fire is small, but it's simply not the right use of the word here (also, you say "small" three words later). Honestly, if the reader has been paying attention they should already be able to assume that any fire inside a tent will not be particularly large.


Good and evil are nought but words, powerful words true but words none the less.

Okay I lied; I'll mention commas again. Commas! I'd also split this into two sentences for better flow.


Many have and will take up the banner of these ideals and shed blood and die for them but when the sun sets they are little more then a cup that will hold no water, useless and empty.

I like this sentence a lot, both in terms of phrasing and the actual metaphor. The only issue I can take with it is that "they are little more..." is unclear--the subject of the sentence is "Many [people]", so "they" naturally refers back to the subject, not "these ideals". Restructuring sentences to avoid misleading your audience is a good thing.


The Elder snorts quietly in concentration as he sets his mixture to heat in a cobalt pot atop the flame.

While I appreciate your quandary in trying to cover both action and speech in a memory, your structure is really unflexible:
quote
Action
quote
Action
quote
Action

And it's not engaging to read structural repetition like this unless it's done with a purpose in mind. This particular setup also implies that Turan can only speak or act at a given time, whereas in reality he would presumably be speaking as he goes about his work. You can get this across better both explicitly, by saying "'blah blah,' he said, as he blahed", and structurally by putting his actions in the same paragraphs and sentences as his speech. Varied structures are (generally) much more pleasant to read than static repetition.


“You are to be a watcher, it lurks in your eyes like the waiting hunter boy and you must lift yourself above such trivialities and perceive the entire picture.”

For instance, here I'm having to work to figure out what "such trivialities" are. He presumably means "the concepts of good & evil", but because of the way your text is structured, with this in a new paragraph, I've mentally moved on from that topic. Also, "waiting hunter boy" is unclear--is this supposed to be a generic trope? An allusion to myth? This may be a situation where some capitalized words could come in useful, depending on the purpose of this reference (is there a story in their culture featuring a boy who is only ever named as "Waiting Hunter Boy", for instance?).


His hands wave to encompass the entire tent

Period at the end; and the passive-voice "His hands wave" implies a lack of control, like his hands are just flailing around--not very dignified for the village wise man, and probably not what you intended.


“Life requires opposition, it thrives on it! It drives us onwards where otherwise we may fall pray to idleness, it breeds strength and determination.”

More subject confusion here. In the first sentence, Life is the subject, and it works fine. In the second sentence, therefore, it's assumed that Life is still the subject (since you haven't said otherwise), but this is not what you intended. You could fix this by just replacing "It" at the beginning of the second sentence with "Opposition" (the repetition isn't a problem when you're using it to change subjects), or you could rephrase the first sentence to make Opposition literally the driving force of Life--if you make Opposition the subject, then you're doing with the structure the same thing you're doing in the text, which is a Good Thing.

Also you left out a word.


The steam that rises from the simmering mixture lays thick in the air and fogs my mind,

*lies. Lying is a thing you do; laying is something you do to something else. Also, that comma should either be a semicolon or a period, since it's separating two complete sentences.


I notice the elder is lost in a thought far away from here as he absentmindedly pokes at the fire with a willow stick.

I'm sure you've heard the phrase "show; don't tell". Remember that you're in a flashback here, as well--you're not just noticing; you noticed long ago. But what, physically, did you actually notice? Tell the audience those things, and let them figure out (as the speaker did) that the Elder is lost in thought. Giving the audience some agency in understanding the story makes for a more engaging read.


We must watch for the absence, the nothingness that is ever lurking on the edge of perception.

What? I'm really just confused, here. Maybe he's just being cryptic, but usually you want your reader to be able to at least get a sense of what crypic things mean, or might mean.


It is foul creatures with out name that want nothing more then an end.

*without. You've also got some disagreement here; "it is" needs to refer to something singular, so "it" cannot be "creatures".


With these words the old Minotaur seems lost in the dancing flames of the fire

Woah what? Sorry to be racist, but if the dude's a Minotaur, you've got to say so up front so your audience doesn't go through the whole snippet picturing everything totally wrong. Also, you've got another instance of show/tell here; in fact it's almost the same one. Say he falls silent, staring at the fire, etc etc, but don't say "well he's pretty old so I figured he probably got distracted by the pretty flames and forgot to keep talking". Or actually, do say that (not that it's in-character for Verdus), or say anything besides simply telling the end result of the speaker's thought process.


battle scared features

"battle-scarred" should be hyphenated and include two rs. Generally speaking, hyphenate adjectives when they're both modifying the main noun, rather than one modifying the other, modifying the main noun. Or, as in this case, when the whole thing is really a contraction of a phrase "scarred-in-battle".


tho

Oh god please no. Say it with me: "thoUGH".


The moment of quiet stretches painfully long and I am forced to prompt him for fear of losing an end to his tale.

"moment of quiet" is kind of weird, since "quiet" is unusual to use as a noun in this way. Also since it's lasting more than a moment, so it's just incongruous--simply "His silence" is cleaner. Also, you've got a third show/tell moment here, although this one you do a little better by showing at least some of the speaker's motivation. Part of your problem comes from using passive voice--give the actor some agency, especially when it's the main character! "Fearful of losing the end of his tale, I prompt him to continue".


I watch as his eye sharpen and the years return.

Watch your plurality. Otherwise, I really like this moment (although it confused me briefly because the "tho" in the previous line distracted me so much I'd forgotten about your years/water metaphor (which I also really liked). This is a place where you could probably put a sort of value judgement: rather than just the years returning, you could have the weight of years return, or some other physical change in his face to notice as the years return to it.


“An end to everything.”

I'd understand this more if I understood the "absence; nothingness" line a few paragraphs back. As it is, I get the general gist but any deeper meaning or impact is lost.


Although I did not realise it at the time with those four words my future was set.

See, here you've got past tense--I still say you should be in the past for the entire flashback.

Also, come on, you can't leave me hanging like that! You started in the present; either return to it at the end or take the scene from the present out entirely. On a related note, you need to do more with your title: I was expecting a clear reference to the smell of marigold in the flashback to explain why this memory is tied to it, but I didn't get one, so the title (and the whole present-day section) feels somewhat arbitrary.

Wow I seem to have gotten carried away here. Let's see, 486-word snippet... 1771-word critique. Sorry about that. Please forgive my horrible douchebaggery; I really did enjoy reading this and I hope you continue. I very much want to see what is going on in this setting (and how Verdus got from there to here).


@Eurus


Okay this is kind of weird given how much time we just spent ogling Grace's legs.

Hah! Okay, yeah. The intention was for it to be kind of scathingly sarcastic, but I did a poor job of expressing that.

Your sarcasm and tone come across fine--the problem is that it retroactively makes the ogling feel really awkward when we learn that Grace is her mom, and now suddenly the audience is distracted from the story by (presumably unintentional) incestuous overtones.


Well, "squee" generally refers to a sort of excited fangirl-y noise (like "oh my god I'm living in a fantasy novel this is so cool if I survive the next five minutes"), so it would have been a little inappropriate at the time. :smallbiggrin:

I understood :smallsmile: I just meant that she's got some serious restraint to be able to resist the urge--I'd certainly have trouble with it, at least.


Ah, the idea is that she mostly came to terms with that over the past week or so (had been corresponding with Grace by e-mail and phone for a while), but perhaps I didn't make that clear.

I considered not making a comment on this actually, since it was clear that this was your intent. I guess I really just had some trouble believing that she'd be over it so quickly--perhaps some specifics (earlier, when you're talking about this anyway) about how she's moved on from shocked disbelief to bitter resentment would make the line feel less unlikely.


I actually might write up some more Scion scenes in the near future, it's a very fun setting.

You'd better!

Kaun
2012-08-16, 05:36 PM
@Kaun
EDIT: Let me preface this by saying I really liked this snippet and I want to read more. I just have a tendency not to be very tactful when I'm writing critique, so please don't think that there was nothing I liked in here; I just didn't happen to point it out in the midst of this comment-storm. Sorry :smallfrown:


Hehe don't worry, people pay me to get yelled for a living so you have to work hard before i take offence.

I do apologies for my grammatical and spelling errors, i just can't seem to see them till there pointed out and then i am like... wow how did that slip through :smallredface:.

Tho being my nemesis as i seem to slip it in in all the wrong places without me realizing.

Thanks for the really in-depth critique! it has given me lots to think about when it comes to my structuring.

I will think on what you have said for a while then play with it some more. I might start looking at the other stuff i did to for this character. (this started as an abstract chr history for a dnd game i was playing in.)

Winds
2012-08-16, 09:15 PM
@ Dr. Bwaa
Well...





hehehehe. I'm glad you brought that back up :smallbiggrin:


Somehow, I can't see Elle *not* needling him about it.





...what? I'm just really confused here.

Even from the air, it looked bad. So we picked a skyscraper with a helipad and hooved it.



I like that we're getting to see more of Elle's personality here.

That's a pity, as that was the last session she was a part of...





This being on its own paragraph and so abrupt was a bit jarring. It felt like the speaker should have changed, but it didn't. I think if Elle had mentioned the "reporter" jab earlier once so this would be a callback, or if she'd expressed some annoyance at having to recount their adventures, it would be a bit smoother.

So noted.



Overall, sounds like they had a hell of an adventure while Kalach was out :smalleek:

...Pun intended, I suppose? :smallbiggrin:
But yes, that they did. And that's just the part Kalach found out about in character! The whole party experienced several months of time while the 'real' time of the plane saw only a couple days. More on that later.

Dr Bwaa
2012-08-17, 11:54 AM
@Kaun
I'm glad I haven't frightened you off too much. I usually don't unleash any really crazy critiques until at least the second snippet. I definitely know the feeling when it comes to not being able to see obvious errors in your own work--like, I'll break rules that I hate when people break and just completely not notice no matter how many times I edit it.


people pay me to get yelled for a living

:smalleek: Your job sounds... unpleasant.

@Winds

...Pun intended, I suppose? :smallbiggrin:

Of course! Looking forward to the next bit (as always, but if time shenanigans are involved? Sign me up).

Kaun
2012-08-17, 10:23 PM
:smalleek: Your job sounds... unpleasant.

Ehh it pays well. :smallamused:

Anyway.

I played around with it some more and added some bits. Still not sure I'm happy but hey.


Marigolds (3rd Edit)

The power that smell holds over one's memory baffles me at times. I stand here on the battlefield surrounded by swirling ash and the blood of the fallen but all it takes is the slightest hint of marigold on the breeze and I am taken back to a time without care. I am taken to a time when I was only a handful of seasons old, kneeling in elder Turan’s tent watching the Minotaur's gnarled old hands work the mortar and pestle.

“It is all about balance, Verdus, that is my point…”

He stopped mid sentence and studied the contents of the bowl with a discerning eye. After a moment he added a pinch of dried marigold which I didn't recognise at the time, then set to it with the pestle again.

“You must distance yourself from ideals such as good and evil, boy. They are merely constructs of idle minds! Pretty words, granted the illusion of true meaning.”

At this he set the mortar down before him and stoked the work fire that occupied the middle of the tent.

“Good and evil are nought but words. Powerful words true, but words none the less. Many have and will take up the banner of these ideals, they will shed blood and die for them, but when the sun sets these words are little more then a cup that will hold no water, useless and empty.”

To empahsize the point Elder Turan snorted quietly while carefully setting his mixture to heat in a cobalt pot atop the flame.

“You are to be a watcher, Verdus. It lurks in your eyes like a waiting hunter, you must lift yourself above such trivial words and perceive the entire picture.”

His hand gestured to encompass the entire tent.

“Life requires opposition, it thrives on it! Opposition drives us onwards where otherwise we may fall pray to idleness, it breeds strength and determination.”

The steam that eminated from the simmering mixture sat thick in the air and fogged my mind; It seemed that the elder forget my presence momentairly as he poked the fire with a willow stick.

“We must watch for the absence, the hungrey void that is ever lurking on the edge of perception. It commands foul creatures without name and wants nothing more then an end.”

With these words the old Minotaur fell silent, he seemed mesmerized by the dancing flames, reading meanings in the fire that I was blind too. His battle-scared features relaxed for a moment and it was as though the years slid from his face like water off the side of a tent. The silence stretched painfully long and although fearfull of disturbing him i pushed for a conclusion to his tale.

“An end to what master?”

I watched his eye's sharpen as the burden of years returned.

“An end to everything.”

Although I did not realise it at the time with those four words my future was set.

An uncaring reality barges back in and I realize that I am staring at a wild marigold bush being licked by the creeping flames. To my right a figure approaches through the billowing smoke and as I turn, the wind catches a dried up flower bud from the bush and casts it free. The payload of seeds contained within the bud are spirited away from the destruction by the wind; at least there is hope something may spawn from this mess.

With a disheartened snort I heft my weapon and shield.

here is a small follow up.

The smell of ash.

The sword comes in fast and bites deep. This Dragonkin is not like the others, she is undisciplined but there is a fire in her. Her crimson scales match the roaring flames that surround us. I drop back and heft my shield, testing my arm; she changes her stance and then huffs tendrils of smoke.

“Why do you bring this pointless war to us Dragonkin?”

The words sound empty as they leave my mouth. She replies eye's ablaze and voice of venom

“It is you who brought this WAR ON US!”

Words like ghosts return from the past …*

...you must lift yourself above such trivial words and perceive the entire picture.

Powerful words from an old bull who’s body lays cooling not 30ft from where we stand.

The moment is gone.

The Dragonkin charges.

There are probably spelling and grammatical mistakes there in spades but my spell check and I arn't getting along at the moment so...

....sorry! :smallredface:.

Winds
2012-08-18, 04:30 PM
@Kaun

A few errors, yes, but whatever. The 'frame' for his flashback gives the work a more complete feel, and I like the hint of where his story is going.

As for me...



Nightmare Visions

When I awoke, Elle became...upset. The gear and power I was given for my return are not exactly comforting to sense. Still, it sounds like an excuse to me. The entire 'save the world' thing was something she only went with because it was better than where she was. I can hardly blame her for leaving. All that binds me to this quest now is hatred for the devils and sheer contrariness.
In any case, Kol and his new friend stuck around. Kol wants to see this through so he can find some way home, and Aileph, the paladin hellbred, wants to do this as penance for his past life.

I wonder if I will become hellbred when I die...

The compass points across the sea, now. So we went to the harbor. I managed to broker a deal with a ship captain who was docked here-we will crew and supply one of the larger ships moored here, and it will be his after he drops us at our destination. Kol went to look for supplies, while Aileph and I helped repair and ready the boat. Being that it is a metal creation similar to the cars Elle got us, that was an...interesting few hours. The old man has quite a tongue on him.

In any case, we're under way. Kol seems to have a military mindset, these journeys are rest time for him. But Aileph seems agitated. I suspect his holy powers are useless against the wrongness that pervades this area. I have only a limited time before he confirms his suspistions about my nature. He and Kol are useful. I would prefer to have them on my side...and come to that, if they work together, they may yet be able to kill me. That would be an embassingly swift end to my plans...

During the night, we had a dream. Looking out over the sea, there was a storm. And rising from the water was...a monster. You could describe it like a dragon, but only as you might describe the ocean as 'damp'. It had many heads, and it was large enough to blot out the sky, though we were miles distant. And I heard the voice of Asmodeus command it.

This I thought a welcome escape from my memories...until morning. My compatriots had this dream as well, in every detail save that they did not know whose voice it was. That, I kept to myself.

Aileph did describe one thing more than we saw. A woman in the mirror, with flaming red hair and no face.

Today however, the storm did come, the dragon rise, the voice command. The only thing missing was Aileph's red-haired woman.

Are we going mad? Or are we so involved in this world now that it shows us what it fears?

Which would be worse?

Lord_Gareth
2012-08-19, 11:08 PM
And now, the long-awaited:


The Host of a Thousand Princes
Part V


Spring

Spring's charge is stalling, and Natasha knows it. The battle lines are being redefined as the Host pulls its forces back, buying time to remake its formations and form a solid line against the surprisingly resilient Lost that combat the faerie host. The Darkling woman works her turntables furiously, making the Host pay the butcher's bill for every inch of ground they concede, but she can see their reinforcements pouring in and knows it isn't going to be enough.

Then the raven lands on her shoulder.

The sheer shock of it almost cause Natasha to punch the bird right in its beaked face, but the Darkling steels herself and switches off the music temporarily instead so she can hear the raven's message.

"Seraphina says to buy time," the raven croaks out in a throaty voice. Natasha ***** an eyebrow at it, and the corvid shrugs in response. "Get creative," it advises before flying away.

There is a moment or two of calm as the combined charge of the Lost's forces stalls and the Host of a Thousand Princes pauses to catch its breath.

"You!" Natasha calls out, pointing at one of her fellow Spring Courtiers. "Get up here, and put in CD 24, Track 7. Play it when I tell you, got it?"

The shocked courtier nods, and Natasha leaps off of her perch on the tank before jogging towards the front lines.


Summer

The boy with the small claws shakes his head again at the insanity of Natasha's plan, but he steps in front of the battle lines between his own forces and the Host of a Thousand Princes. Taking up the microphone that the Darkling had given him, he swallows hard and calls out across the no-mans-land.

"My mistress demands entertainment! Your paltry offerings bore her - send forth a champion to face her in battle or else quit the field like the dogs you are!"

A murmur passes through the ranks of the Host, and then they part like a sea to admit a loathly hag, her skin covered in putrescence and her nails like jagged flint, being carried on a litter made of living wood. The witch opens her mouth (her teeth all ragged with rot and blood) and calls out in return.

"I am the Witch Who Crawls From the Muck. Who dares to challenge me?"


Spring

You got this? Natasha thinks at the wooden litter. Stirring to her Contract with plants and vines, a face appears on it and smiles at her. The Darkling grins, then bursts out of the lines of her own troops and takes up her microphone again.

As she brings it before her lips, the wooden litter carrying the Witch Who Crawls From the Muck throws her to the ground as Natasha draws her saber and bursts into song.

"Someone who loathes you, witch, so stand up and die! I only called you you so I could beat faerie ass a second time!"

Ragged claws come up and block a savage saber blow; sparks fly into the hag's eyes.

"Roar like an Ogre, cut like a Soldier, I'll beat your ass like an Oracle told ya!"

Dark magic twists away from Natasha's form and she dances away with a manic grin, her siren's voice enrapturing the entire battlefield. Faerie and Lost alike witness her toying with her prey.

"I strike down hard against a faerie, cut your spells out of the air - scary! I slam Contracts so focus I'll break that concentration ma'am!"

Vines burst out of the ground and grab the Witch's hands and legs - a saber slash lays her stomach open from neck to waist, spilling insects onto the muddy ground.

"I'm certified Spring Court you slut, so kiss my pristine silken butt! I'm gonna enjoy watching you die, and when I do, the crows will feast on your eyes."


Summer

"If I didn't know she was a lesbian, I would marry that woman."

"I know, and I'm going to propose anyway."

Lady Moreta
2012-08-21, 03:43 AM
So... having said I would read and reply, I now finally get around to it... please excuse any typos, I am using a different keyboard to normal and it feels awkward... plus I have a sore wrist which is giving me trouble.

Gareth

Vampires
And as always, you manage to be creepy and fascinating all at the same time. I really don't know how you do it...


She is perhaps seventeen, maybe nineteen on the outside.

I love your use of language... I am something of a geek (who isn't on this forum) but I love the older forms of language, Jane Austen-era speech and the like, and I married a complete linguist nut... I love it when people bring out phrases that haven't been used in ages... and it fits the tone of your snippet so very well.


You work in a factory that smelts iron, and were rather delighted to eventually discover that it smelts people just fine too. I don't think he beats you any more."

Murder is bad and wrong, but I still found this utterly hilarious :smallbiggrin:


Another sob forced down. I turned my head and stared her in her eyes, not letting my terror show even while my mind scrambled for some way out of this. Something about my desperate defiance made her chuckle, and her face got closer to mine until we were only the barest fractions of inches apart.

I'm not sure exactly what it is, but something about this just doesn't ring true to me. I think it's that you've been talking about her as not showing that she's scared, or at least trying to not show it, but still giving the impression that the vampire is well aware she's afraid... and then all of a sudden she's hiding her fear and has desperate defiance. It just doesn't ring true...


When she leaned in again, I thought she was going to kiss me.

She did not.

Very effective fade-to-black... :smallsmile:


"Now? Right now we find you a big side of beef. Then, we talk. I'm glad you chose to come with me, Elizabeth Shore."

Was the 'side of beef' comment meant to be so delightfully ambiguous? Because it's cracking me up - the implication that the 'side of beef' is going to be some poor sod.

Host of Lots of Royalty

Best. Ending. EVER! :biggrin:

Ahem...


Spring's charge is stalling, and Natasha knows it. The battle lines are being redefined as the Host pulls its forces back, buying time to remake its formations and form a solid line against the surprisingly resilient Lost that combat the faerie host. The Darkling woman works her turntables furiously, making the Host pay the butcher's bill for every inch of ground they concede, but she can see their reinforcements pouring in and knows it isn't going to be enough.

Again... I'm having trouble telling who is who in this... I think I figured out that Natasha is one of the Host and they're fighting the Lost, but it's not clear. And from what I remember of your other snippets in this group, I've had that trouble nearly every time. I'm just not sure if it's your writing style, which is otherwise excellent, or some feature of the fact that I don't know the system/game you're writing in.


The sheer shock of it almost cause Natasha to punch the bird right in its beaked face, but the Darkling steels herself and switches off the music temporarily instead so she can hear the raven's message.

Causes my friend... :smalltongue: and music? oh wait... Darkling is a type of banshee isn't it? I remember reading a supernatural/horror book with a darkling in it, only there it was that a darkling is simply a male banshee. Realising that makes the whole music thing make much more sense. Otherwise I was going to be a little :smallconfused: and a little :smallbiggrin: because no matter what way you look at it, a DJ in the middle of a battle is always funny.

"Seraphina says to buy time," the raven croaks out in a throaty voice. Natasha ***** an eyebrow at it, and the corvid shrugs in response. "Get creative," it advises before flying away.


The boy with the small claws shakes his head again at the insanity of Natasha's plan, but he steps in front of the battle lines between his own forces and the Host of a Thousand Princes. Taking up the microphone that the Darkling had given him, he swallows hard and calls out across the no-mans-land.

"My mistress demands entertainment! Your paltry offerings bore her - send forth a champion to face her in battle or else quit the field like the dogs you are!"

A murmur passes through the ranks of the Host, and then they part like a sea to admit a loathly hag, her skin covered in putrescence and her nails like jagged flint, being carried on a litter made of living wood. The witch opens her mouth (her teeth all ragged with rot and blood) and calls out in return.

"I am the Witch Who Crawls From the Muck. Who dares to challenge me?"

Okay, on second reading, I'll admit that I'm now completely confused as to who is who. Summer and Spring are different forces are they not? See, at first this reads like the boy's mistress is Natasha... but now I'm thinking he's summer and she's spring so it can't be... and that his mistress is the hag. It doesn't change the excellence of the writing, but it does detract a bit because I'm now spending all this time trying to figure out what's going on.


"I'm certified Spring Court you slut, so kiss my pristine silken butt! I'm gonna enjoy watching you die, and when I do, the crows will feast on your eyes."

I loved the entire song sequence... you fit the words together really well and as someone who regularly sings and leads worship at her church, I can easily tell that if you whacked some music in there, it would be very singable. Songs are hard to write, well done. :smallsmile:

But... 'kiss my pristine silken butt!' made me burst out laughing... :smallbiggrin:


"If I didn't know she was a lesbian, I would marry that woman."

"I know, and I'm going to propose anyway."

And this? This made me applaud :smallbiggrin:

Kaun

This is much better than your first draft... which I did read, but the good doctor beat me to commenting and he said everything I was going to say so I didn't bother.

I enjoyed this - it's a nice little vignette that really does a good job of showing something that is in fact, very true - the power of smell as associated with memory. I especially like that it's such a calm memory yet associated with a battlefield.

One thing I will say at the outset - 'marigold' shouldn't be capitalised, not unless it's the name of a person. It's not a proper noun and doesn't need the capital. I know it's not a big issue, but I personally find that sort of thing a little jarring. Every time I notice it, it drags me out of the story and I have to struggle to get myself back into the flow.

And in a similar vein - and again, this is very much a personal preference... but I find it a little jarring that of your dude's flashback, only the speech is italicised... in general (by which I mean, in every single thing I've ever read) all of a flashback is in italics - to make it clear that it's a flashback. Unless there is some specific in-story/stylistic reason not to do it. For example, yesterday I wrote a story in which the character was dreaming. I deliberately didn't italicise anything (normally dreams are done the same way as flashbacks) because to do so would have been to alert the reader to the fact that something was going on and it would have spoiled the later impact when the character woke up (the snippet started with the dream sequence). Here, every time you go back to simple description/story-telling, it drags me out of the flashback and I keep thinking that what you're writing is what's actually happening at the time and I have to keep reminding myself that it's still the flashback.

If you don't want to use italics like that, then even a simple

***
to separate the sections will do. We just need something to separate it from the main story...


I am taken to a time when I was only a handful of seasons old, kneeling in elder Turan’s tent watching the Minotaurs gnarled old hands work the mortar and pestle.

Minotaur's - with an appostraphe appostrophe appa - you know what I mean. That word is stupidly hard to spell.


“You must distance yourself from ideals such as good and evil, boy. They are merely constructs of idle minds! Pretty words, granted the illusion of true meaning.”

I must say, I enjoyed the wise-old-minotaur mentor thing :smallsmile: I liked that what he was saying was kinda vague and didn't entirely make sense to me. It fit quite nicely with the image you created of this old man.


Many have and will take up the banner of these ideals and shed blood and die for them but when the sun sets these words are little more then a cup that will hold no water, useless and empty.”

More commas please :smallsmile: I ran out of puff halfway through this sentence and totally lost track of what was going on. I'd stick one between 'and die for them, but' and possibly/probably between "ideals, an shed blood" as well.


To empahsize the point Elder Turan snorted quietly while cearfully setting his mixture to heat in a cobalt pot atop the flame.

This is totally me being a jerk, but - do you mean to say the pot is the colour of cobalt, or it's made of cobalt? It's been my understanding that it's too soft to use for something like that... then again, Wikipedia is telling me that the cobalt metal is a hard silvery metal so hey, I can be wrong!

Also - typo "carefully"


The steam that eminated from the simmering mixture sat thick in the air and fogged my mind; It seemed that the elder forget my presence momentairly as he absentmindedly poked the fire with a willow stick.

I'd take out the 'absentmindedly' here - you've already made it clear that he's gone off into his own little world. It just feels - unnecessary.


With these words the old Minotaur falls silent, he seemed mesmerized by the dancing flames, reading meanings in the fire that i was blind too. His battle-scared features relaxed for a moment and it was as though the years slid from his face like water off the side of a tent. The silence stretched painfully long and although fearfull of disturbing him i pushed for a conclusion to his tale.

Capital 'I's thank you very much :smalltongue:

Also, I believe you have the wrong tense there with 'falls silent' - it should say 'fell silent'.


An uncaring reality barges back in and i realize that i am staring at a wild Marigold bush being licked by the creeping flames. To my right a figure approaches through the billowing smoke and as i turn, the wind catches a dried up flower bud from the bush and casts it free. The payload of seeds contained within the bud are spirited away from the destruction by the wind; at least there is hope something may spawn from this mess.

With a disheartened snort i heft my weapon and shield.

Capitals again.

Also, that last sentence feels a little - short, to me. It's a very abrupt ending... I'd like to know what he went off and did after he hefted his weapons.

SanguisAevum
2012-08-21, 08:12 AM
So many updates!

Am so busy at the moment, struggeling to find time to offer comments... although most of what i would have said has allready been said by those far better placed to offer it than I.

Dont even have time to write at the moment either... still here, still reading, watch this space for more.

Lord_Gareth
2012-08-21, 08:16 AM
If you recall Moreta, Natasha is a member of the Spring Court (that's from an earlier snippet). Darklings are a kind of Changeling (the Lost) and she's been leading the combined charge of Spring/Summer/US Army since Part III. It has been awhile though.

As far as the boy with the claws and the mistress thing - in older societies, it would often be that when armies clashed they could resolve their dispute with a battle of champions. Natasha asked the boy to make the challenge for her, and his language was deliberately chosen to imply that his 'mistress' had enough nobility and power to make such a demand. They were banking on the idea that the True Fae would not resist such an insult.

Dr Bwaa
2012-08-21, 11:01 AM
Oh look what we have here! Most excellent.

@Kaun
Moreta beat me to the punch this time for the in-depth commentary, but I'd still like to pop in and mention that this is certainly a big improvement over the first draft.

Also, in the future (maybe I should put this in the OP...), it's easier for me to keep the snippet catalog up-to-date if, when you make edits/revisions, you just edit the post the original snippet was in and mention in a new post that you did so (if you want people to go reread it). That way I don't need to remember to change the link, and your revised versions won't get lost. If you'd rather not do in-place edits that's fine, just be aware that I may not remember to fix the links in the OP :smallsmile:


@Winds

The entire 'save the world' thing was something she only went with because it was better than where she was.

This sentence really doesn't flow, mostly "better than where she was" I think. "better than the alternative" or something might be nicer.


I wonder if I will become hellbred when I die...

Is... that how that works? I was under the impression that hellbred were... you know... bred. :smallconfused: Though I suppose it could be either a facet of your cosmology or else just Kalach being wrong. PCs aren't wrong often enough, in my opinion; I think it's because it's hard to convey a strongly-held misconception in snippet form without also deceiving the reader. /tangent


I managed to broker a deal with a ship captain who was docked here-we will crew and supply one of the larger ships moored here, and it will be his after he drops us at our destination.

I'm confused. What is the captain getting out of this? The ship is already his, no?


Aileph and I helped repair and ready the boat.

Ahh, it needs repairs... so that's what the PCs are trading in exchange for their passage?


The old man has quite a tongue on him.

I'd be interested to see how exactly Kalach interprets modern-era cursing--presumably the words are unfamiliar (or maybe not I guess, since everyone can speak to each other).


That would be an embassingly swift end to my plans...

What plans? I thought he was only in this out of spite.


You could describe it like a dragon, but only as you might describe the ocean as 'damp'.

This is great. I would probably say "as a dragon" though, to parallel the second clause a little more nicely.


And I heard the voice of Asmodeus command it.

This I thought a welcome escape from my memories...until morning.

The voice of Asmodeus commanding a World Dragon is a welcome escape? I'd think this would be rather unsettling, given what his memories are, not comforting. Unless you're referring to something else, in which case this is really unclear. The second sentence is just sort of awkward no matter which way you look at it.


A woman in the mirror, with flaming red hair and no face.

For some reason I really like this image.


Are we going mad? Or are we so involved in this world now that it shows us what it fears?

I like the sentiment here and the way it's expressed, except that giving the world agency comes out of nowhere--why does the world fear these things? Especially if it's prophetic, is "fear" really the right thing? Some mention of how these events tie in to the grand scheme of things would be very nice.

Also, way to end the snippet without telling us what happened, ya jerk :smalltongue: Looking forward to the next one.


@Gareth
Long-Awatited Ending Does Not Disappoint


"Seraphina says to buy time," the raven croaks out in a throaty voice.

Two things here. First, "croaks" already feels "throaty" to me--the description feels a little stilted/redundant. Second, and probably the only thing I wish was different about this snippet, is that this is the only place we get anything about Seraphina!! Last time we saw her, she was having a fantastic scene surrounded by tortured hellscholars (http://www.mspaintadventures.com/?s=6&p=005542) out in the forest someplace ascending to somethinghood or something, and then she disappeared entirely, and now we don't get to see her?!?! How could you do this to me? Whyyyyyyyyyy.

Ahem.


Play it when I tell you, got it?

She never tells him to. She should tell him to.


a saber slash lays her stomach open from neck to waist

That is quite the stomach she's got there.


spilling insects onto the muddy ground.

Oh very nice.


I'm certified Spring Court you slut, so kiss my pristine silken butt!

Ahahaha. I know Moreta already mentioned it but I love this line quite a lot.

I also had a lot of the same issues that she did as far as knowing who was who and so on, and that was after going back and rereading parts 1-4 to refresh my memory on the whole thing. Part of it must be that I'm unfamiliar with the system, but I've had the same issue in the other snippets as well--I think part of the trouble is that since Spring and Summer have come together it's really hard to differentiate between them, but the label indicates that we should be able to differentiate between them-- thus latching on to random characters because they're the apparent difference between sections. I think the question to ask here is what you're trying to accomplish with the section breaks in this snippet? You've used them before to change scenes, but you're not really doing that now; you're just changing camera angles (so to speak). So what are the section breaks accomplishing here, if not actually switching the focus of the narrative?

Winds
2012-08-21, 02:56 PM
This sentence really doesn't flow, mostly "better than where she was" I think. "better than the alternative" or something might be nicer.

So noted. In short, she was in jail before the zombies showed up, got put to work after, then followed the party so she didn't have the hang around a strongpoint run by the police that put her there in the first place.


Is... that how that works? I was under the impression that hellbred were... you know... bred. :smallconfused: Though I suppose it could be either a facet of your cosmology or else just Kalach being wrong. PCs aren't wrong often enough, in my opinion; I think it's because it's hard to convey a strongly-held misconception in snippet form without also deceiving the reader. /tangent

It is an interesting misnomer. Kalach isn't nessesarily mistaken, but I agree, it would be good if there were more ways for PCs to get things wrong outside of 'THE PLOT SAYS SO' or similar. Anyway, paraphrased from the race fluff/mechanics: Hellbred were evil in life, but commited a very good act as or just before dying-they have devilish bodies due to briefly being in hell. The devil that claimed them still wants them, which makes it hard to revive them if they die again, and whatever good deeds they do usually aren't enough to prevent them from going to hell again anyway. Not, mind you, that they get any choice, since shifting to a nongood alighnment sends them there instantly.




Ahh, it needs repairs... so that's what the PCs are trading in exchange for their passage?

That, and he gets to keep it. Guy showed up in a worn-out dingy.
...I can pronounce it, but not spell it. :smallsigh:




I'd be interested to see how exactly Kalach interprets modern-era cursing--presumably the words are unfamiliar (or maybe not I guess, since everyone can speak to each other).

Indeed, everone is speaking Common. That's a large part of why they thought it was still Faerun, at first.




What plans? I thought he was only in this out of spite.

Well-planned spite, but basiclly just spite nonetheless.




This is great. I would probably say "as a dragon" though, to parallel the second clause a little more nicely.

I think I meant to, but mistyped it. Ooops.



The voice of Asmodeus commanding a World Dragon is a welcome escape? I'd think this would be rather unsettling, given what his memories are, not comforting. Unless you're referring to something else, in which case this is really unclear. The second sentence is just sort of awkward no matter which way you look at it.

Well, his usual dreams at the time were of the relative years he spent with Asmodeus personally torturing him. Through that lens, big freaking dragon that isn't currently looking your way is just disconcerting.




For some reason I really like this image.

Good to hear...the next few snippets are mostly about her.


I like the sentiment here and the way it's expressed, except that giving the world agency comes out of nowhere--why does the world fear these things? Especially if it's prophetic, is "fear" really the right thing? Some mention of how these events tie in to the grand scheme of things would be very nice.

An in-character way of trying to figure out how it is that the party sees there dreams. It's never actually explained.


Also, way to end the snippet without telling us what happened, ya jerk :smalltongue: Looking forward to the next one.

Glad to hear you're enjoying it, but the cliffhangers are gonna stick around. :smallamused:

SleepyShadow
2012-08-21, 03:00 PM
So after some deliberation, some pizza, and some movie watching, my group and I have decided to forgo regular D&D in favor of trying something new. It's definitely an odd idea, but it certainly has merit in my eyes.

Steam Punk + Dungeons and Dragons + Big Eyes Small Mouths + Call of Cthulhu!

Our first adventure took place in an 1890's Victorian Style Greyhawk City. Currently, the party consists of Lupin the halfling gun mage (using the one from Iron Kingdoms), Lucy the cat-girl shapeshifter (from BESM), and Derive the human swordsage.

Trouble in Paradise
"So what are we doing again?" Lucy asked for the umpteenth time.

Lupin shook his head and sighed resignedly. "Alicia Green has had a very nasty accident, and her older sister Mary wants us to look into it."

"At the theater?" the woman asked as she scratched her long furry ear.

"Yes, The Paradise Theater," Lupin answered. "Metro Arts is restoring it, and Alicia was a volunteer there. Why can't you remember this?"

Lucy looked sadly down at her feet. "I'm sorry. I'm really high right now."

Derive snorted in laughter. The halfling sighed once more and led his companions down the dirty street. The theater itself was a very grand old building in this otherwise rundown neighborhood. Across the street from The Paradise an abandoned carriage sat in the gutter, its wheels stolen some time ago. It was covered in strange orange graffiti, and a dead dog sat in the open doorway, its erupted stomach roiling with maggots.

As the three investigators approached the theater, a woman on a ladder called down to them. She placed a sign on the marquee, then climbed down to greet them properly. She flashed a wolfish grin at them.

"Howdy," the woman said, "I'm Sara Landry. Ya'll must be them folk Mary sent, ya?"

Derive nodded grimly. "That's right."

"We need to go inside and look around, right?" Lucy slurred as she drunkenly staggered into the ladder.

"Er, what's wrong with her?" Sara asked concernedly.

Lupin shrugged his shoulders. "More than I'm qualified to diagnose."

Sara laughed heartily. "Ya'll can go inside if ya'll like, but don't go and fall off them scaffolds, ya hear?"

"Balance and Tumble are skills I'm good at," Derive replied confidently.

The three investigators entered the theater lobby and saw an elderly gentleman and a young elf woman working together to fix the four sofas in the room. After a brief introduction, Frank and Jeanette allowed Lupin, Lucy, and Derive to enter the theater proper.

The main hall of the theater was massive, with a curtained stage and a vaulted ceiling. The walls and ceiling were decorated with delicate carvings of nymphs, satyrs, and other fey creatures. The soft melody of Malaguena being elegantly played on the guitar echoed throughout the room. A scaffold was propped up near the left wall.

"That must have been where Alicia had her fall," Lupin stated.

Suddenly, a scuttling noise echoed from behind the curtain. Derive was the first to move, dashing up the stairs to the stage and throwing the curtains aside. A faint light in the shape of a doorway faintly sparkled at the far end of the otherwise dark stage. Cautiously, Lucy crept toward the doorway and reached out toward it. To her surprise, her hand was repelled by a sheet of cold glass.

Dr Bwaa
2012-08-21, 03:40 PM
@SleepyShadow

Steam Punk + Dungeons and Dragons + Big Eyes Small Mouths + Call of Cthulhu!

But... that's...

Uh.

I.

Hrm.





Moving on,


umpteenth

YESSS.


Why can't you remember this?"

Lucy looked sadly down at her feet. "I'm sorry. I'm really high right now."

I love the characterization we're getting already.


It was covered in strange orange graffiti

I want more description of this. What makes it strange? The design? The color orange? The fact that there's graffiti? Given the setting, I (as the reader) have no idea what to expect--so what things are strange (as opposed to barely worth mentioning, like Lucy's ears)?


a dead dog sat in the open doorway, its erupted stomach roiling with maggots.

Ew. "Erupted" is a good choice of words here (though I'm not completely certain you can use it like that?) By the way, I'm not exactly getting a "paradisiacal" feel, here :smallamused: (I know; I know; it's the name of the theatre)


Derive snorted in laughter. The halfling sighed once more and led his companions down the dirty street.

If you hadn't given us the intro, this would have made me think Derive was the halfling. In fact, it did anyway.


"Howdy," the woman said, "I'm Sara Landry. Ya'll must be them folk Mary sent, ya?"

I am having a blast envisioning this woman's accent.


"We need to go inside and look around, right?" Lucy slurred as she drunkenly staggered into the ladder.

She's drunk now?


Lupin shrugged his shoulders. "More than I'm qualified to diagnose."

The one-liners, they continue to be hilarious.


"Balance and Tumble are skills I'm good at," Derive replied confidently.

Oh good, I was right about who was who. :smallbiggrin:


working together to fix the four sofas in the room.

My first mental image here was the two of them scrambling around trying to fix four sofas simultaneously. Also, it would be nice if we saw what they were actually doing (eg. buried in upholstery making horrible sounds with a long apparatus of some kind), rather than the overall "fixing sofas".


Frank and Jeanette allowed Lupin, Lucy, and Derive to enter the theater proper.

"Allowed" seems weird here. it's the sort of word you use when permission has previously been asked, but denied.


Suddenly, a scuttling noise echoed from behind the curtain. Derive was the first to move, dashing up the stairs to the stage and throwing the curtains aside. A faint light in the shape of a doorway faintly sparkled at the far end of the otherwise dark stage. Cautiously, Lucy crept toward the doorway and reached out toward it. To her surprise, her hand was repelled by a sheet of cold glass.

I have a couple problems with this paragraph. The first sentence seems a little strange (I have a hard time picturing "sudden scuttling"). Derive is the first to move and the only one we see approach, but Lucy touches the glass. I'm not clear where this doorway is, and unless these are very different curtains than the ones I'm imagining, they're not the sort of thing that can be easily thrown aside--they have to be drawn back using a set of heavy ropes and counterweights. Finally, "repelled" makes me think she's literally being repelled, whereas I'm assuming her hand is just blocked.

I am really, really excited for where this campaign/setting goes. I am also really, really curious how you're going to make it work.


EDIT: and now everyone has delivered what they promised except me. Uh... too bad, I guess.

Kaun
2012-08-21, 07:10 PM
Yay stuff!

@Lady Moreta


And in a similar vein - and again, this is very much a personal preference... but I find it a little jarring that of your dude's flashback, only the speech is italicised... in general (by which I mean, in every single thing I've ever read) all of a flashback is in italics - to make it clear that it's a flashback. Unless there is some specific in-story/stylistic reason not to do it. For example, yesterday I wrote a story in which the character was dreaming. I deliberately didn't italicise anything (normally dreams are done the same way as flashbacks) because to do so would have been to alert the reader to the fact that something was going on and it would have spoiled the later impact when the character woke up (the snippet started with the dream sequence). Here, every time you go back to simple description/story-telling, it drags me out of the flashback and I keep thinking that what you're writing is what's actually happening at the time and I have to keep reminding myself that it's still the flashback.

If you don't want to use italics like that, then even a simple

***
to separate the sections will do. We just need something to separate it from the main story...

Firstly thanks for commenting.


This is totally me being a jerk, but - do you mean to say the pot is the colour of cobalt, or it's made of cobalt? It's been my understanding that it's too soft to use for something like that... then again, Wikipedia is telling me that the cobalt metal is a hard silvery metal so hey, I can be wrong!

Was going for the colour. Maybe it was unnecessary?


*snip*

Typos, spelling mistakes and grammatical errors will be the death of me!


Also, that last sentence feels a little - short, to me. It's a very abrupt ending... I'd like to know what he went off and did after he hefted his weapons.

While i'm not happy with the last sentence the intention was to leave it with the reader wanting to know what happened next. So i'm half way there i guess :smallsmile:.

Thank for all of your help by the way!

@Dr Bwaa


@Kaun
Also, in the future (maybe I should put this in the OP...), it's easier for me to keep the snippet catalog up-to-date if, when you make edits/revisions, you just edit the post the original snippet was in and mention in a new post that you did so (if you want people to go reread it). That way I don't need to remember to change the link, and your revised versions won't get lost. If you'd rather not do in-place edits that's fine, just be aware that I may not remember to fix the links in the OP :smallsmile:

My apologies i will keep this in mind for the future.

Lady Moreta
2012-08-21, 10:14 PM
If you recall Moreta, Natasha is a member of the Spring Court (that's from an earlier snippet). Darklings are a kind of Changeling (the Lost) and she's been leading the combined charge of Spring/Summer/US Army since Part III. It has been awhile though.

I don't recall :smalltongue: I think that's the problem. I probably should have gone back and read all the others first. And wait... Spring/Summer are on the same side? I'd assumed they were different, since you separate them out with the little heading thingies in the snippets.

Having said that, you're good, so who cares? :smallbiggrin:


Moreta beat me to the punch this time for the in-depth commentary, but I'd still like to pop in and mention that this is certainly a big improvement over the first draft.

:smalltongue:


Two things here. First, "croaks" already feels "throaty" to me--the description feels a little stilted/redundant.

I don't know... there are a lot of ravens around where I live, and 'croaks' is an apt description of the way they sound. Stupid noisy birds.

SleepyShadow

Steam Punk + Dungeons and Dragons + Big Eyes Small Mouths + Call of Cthulhu!

:smalleek::smallbiggrin:


"So what are we doing again?" Lucy asked for the umpteenth time.

Umpteenth is an awesome word and should be used more :smallbiggrin:

Lupin shook his head and sighed resignedly. "Alicia Green has had a very nasty accident, and her older sister Mary wants us to look into it."


Lucy looked sadly down at her feet. "I'm sorry. I'm really high right now."

I laughed out loud the first time I read this and I did it again just now. This line is awesome :smallbiggrin: quite apart from the fact that it's just plain funny, it's also an excellent example of a wonderfully descriptive/very clear mental picture in a few words. This is a skill I wish I posess. I got a very clear mental picture of Lucy looking down and apologising and being all sheepish about it, but you didn't clutter things up with a bunch of extra words. Well done :smallsmile:


Derive snorted in laughter. The halfling sighed once more and led his companions down the dirty street.

I gotta agree with the good doctor here... it does kinda sound like Derive is the halfling...


and a dead dog sat in the open doorway, its erupted stomach roiling with maggots.

Ick. Again, excellent succint, yet graphic description. And yes Dr. Bwaa, 'erupted' is a perfectly acceptable word to use here. In fact, it's probably the word that really clued me in to how this poor dead dog looked.


"We need to go inside and look around, right?" Lucy slurred as she drunkenly staggered into the ladder.

I wanted to see this further up... not necessarily these words obviously - but earlier when Lucy apologises for being high, I get the image of a girl who's - well, high and having trouble concentrating, but otherwise, she's upright and stable on her feet. Now all of a sudden she's wandering around drunkenly and slurring her words - she wasn't slurring before, so why is she now? And I assume you mean 'drunkenly' here as in 'moving as if they were drunk' not 'moving because they are drunk'. I understand what you mean, but a quick rephrase might help get across the idea that she's not drunk, she just looks that way.


Lupin shrugged his shoulders. "More than I'm qualified to diagnose."

This is hilarious and I laughed. And yet for some reason, it made me think that Lupin was a Cleric and I found myself scrolling back up to check. I think it feels a bit off to me because a) I can't help but think it'd be that much funnier coming out of the mouth of a cleric, and b) because he's a gun mage, so presumably he's not qualified to diagnose anything but the phrasing makes it sound like he is. That said, I still laughed :smallbiggrin:


"Balance and Tumble are skills I'm good at," Derive replied confidently.

Were you intending to deliberately use (and capitalise) the actual D&D skill names? Okay, I phrased that badly... is that how the skills would be described in-universe or were you just using the D&D names because well, that's what they are? This I admit, is a bit of a pet peeve for me (and I'm going to blame it on my husband, because he's the same only worse) - it bugs me when people drop skill names and other actual system labels/descriptions into snippets like these. The whole point of a story or snippet is to take the reader out of their world and into another. Suddenly using the system labels for things drags you rather abruptly, out of that world and dumps you back into the real world.

All Derive needed to say was that he's quick and agile and has good balance so he'll be just fine. You get your point across, the reader can, if they so choose, play 'guess which skill the author is referring to' (which I'll admit, is fun in it's own right), but there's no abrupt dragging out of the story and the world in which the story is set.


After a brief introduction, Frank and Jeanette allowed Lupin, Lucy, and Derive to enter the theater proper.

I'd take out the three names here and just say that the 'group' were allowed to enter the stage. I'm having flashbacks to high school and a short story written by a guy in my English class - telling of the time he and four others went off exploring... every time he mentioned the group, he listed off their four names in sequence. I was ready to pull my hair out by the time he finished.


The soft melody of Malaguena being elegantly played on the guitar echoed throughout the room. A scaffold was propped up near the left wall.

Guitar is not an instrument I would associated with being played 'elegantly'. I confess, I have listened to classical guitar and it's very impressive, but the adjective here just doesn't gel for me.


Suddenly, a scuttling noise echoed from behind the curtain. Derive was the first to move, dashing up the stairs to the stage and throwing the curtains aside.

As the good doctor said, stage curtains are heavy and not easily moved without the use of pulleys and counterweights. I can imagine that he shoved through the curtains, or pushed through, or shoved one briefly aside, but actually 'throwing' them aside - nuh-uh.


A faint light in the shape of a doorway faintly sparkled at the far end of the otherwise dark stage. Cautiously, Lucy crept toward the doorway and reached out toward it. To her surprise, her hand was repelled by a sheet of cold glass.

This is different to the stage where Derive is, is it not? It's a little hard to tell exactly what the setup is here - and I'm a little confused at the fact that we no longer know where Lupin is or what he's doing. And 'repelled' isn't quite the right word here. I know what you mean, but it doesn't quite fit.

Finally, the ending is very abrupt. What happened next? Where is Lupin? What are the noises? You can't just leave it there! :smalltongue:

Kaun

Firstly thanks for commenting.

You're welcome :smallsmile: I warn you, I'm anal and I nitpick.


Was going for the colour. Maybe it was unnecessary?

No, not at all. It was purely down to my misapprehension of the metal cobalt. I had it in my head that cobalt is a soft metal, but apparently it's not. My bad.

Dr Bwaa
2012-08-22, 09:21 AM
My apologies i will keep this in mind for the future.

No apologies neccessary :smallbiggrin: It's no trouble to update the front page links and I don't mind doing it; I just can't promise that I'll always remember to actually do it. So in-place edits are just better for you (assuming you want the right stuff linked, of course :smalltongue:)

@Moreta, SleepyShadow (got kinda long)



Two things here. First, "croaks" already feels "throaty" to me--the description feels a little stilted/redundant.

I don't know... there are a lot of ravens around where I live, and 'croaks' is an apt description of the way they sound. Stupid noisy birds.

I liked "croaks"; it was "throaty" that felt redundant to me. Perhaps I should have actually said that XD


And yes Dr. Bwaa, 'erupted' is a perfectly acceptable word to use here. In fact, it's probably the word that really clued me in to how this poor dead dog looked.

My problem wasn't with the word itself, as I definitely love it as a descriptor. I just wasn't convinced that it could be used to modify a noun in this kind of passive sense. It is a past participle though, so I suppose I need to just get over myself :smalltongue:


he's a gun mage, so presumably he's not qualified to diagnose anything but the phrasing makes it sound like he is.

Ha! I didn't even pick up on this contrast, but I actually think it makes it better (though maybe something to draw attention to the fact that he's not qualified to diagnose anything would be helpful).


Were you intending to deliberately use (and capitalise) the actual D&D skill names?

I'll answer for him since I've seen all his other snippets and I got here first--yes, that was intentional. His group has one player in particular (the one playing Derive, in this case) who simply refuses to get into character, so the NPCs tend to treat the OOC things they say as IC, which makes things... funny. Take a look at some of his snippets from his Ravenloft campaign (for instance) to see what I mean (this one (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13052730&postcount=70), for example).

Lord_Gareth
2012-08-22, 09:40 AM
I don't recall :smalltongue: I think that's the problem. I probably should have gone back and read all the others first. And wait... Spring/Summer are on the same side? I'd assumed they were different, since you separate them out with the little heading thingies in the snippets.

Having said that, you're good, so who cares? :smallbiggrin:


*Blush*

Alright, permit me to refresh the collective memories - the four Seasons are the Seasonal Courts, governing bodies among Changelings/The Lost. Normally, the four Courts share power by ceding it to each Court in its proper season - so in Spring, Spring rules, et cetera. All of them are joined in resisting the Gentry (also known as the True Fae), who compose the elite troops and generals of the Host of a Thousand Princes - a vast army of the Gentry come to claim the mortal world and incorporate it into Arcadia.

Recently (as of Parts III and IV) Natasha came to the rescue of the hard-pressed armies of Summer, and is now leading their combined assault (the leader of Summer's forces, Jillian Fury, is somewhat...pressed...at the moment).

SleepyShadow
2012-08-22, 04:57 PM
@Dr Bwaa, Lady Moreta: Derive is not the halfling. I know I got the wording rather jumbled there. If you're wondering why Lucy suddenly went from high to drunk, well, you're asking the wrong person. I'm just the DM, I don't pretend to understand my players :smallbiggrin: Yes, Moreta, as Bwaa said I do have a player that often breaks the fourth wall. I've come to accept and enjoy it. Lastly, I'm fairly certain that the swordsage with the 20 strength can do as he pleases with the stage curtains :smalltongue:

Now, onto the snippet!

"Is That Good?"
"It's a mirror," Lucy said, puzzled.

"Look, I'm melee for once," Derive grumbled irritably. "Just because you can rush ahead of me doesn't mean you should. Especially when everything is likely to sprout tentacles and attack you."

Lucy looked over her shoulder at the swordsage worriedly. "Is it because eldritch horrors lurk around every corner in places such as this?"

"Nope," Lupin said as he clambered up onto the stage. "You're a cat-girl in an anime horror game. Enough said."

"Tentacles," Derive said darkly.

Lucy thought for a moment then shuddered in horror. After a brief moment of deliberation, the group split up to search the stage more thoroughly. Suddenly the floor beneath Lucy's feet shifted and gave way, and she screamed in terror as she plummeted into the darkness below. Lupin and Derive rushed to where she had been and peered down the trap door.

"Are you alright?" Lupin asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Lucy called up from the darkness. "I think I found the basement."

"I think I found the stairs," Derive said with a dry laugh.

The swordsage withdrew a tiny clockwork pistol from his pocket and rapidly spun a small gear on the side. The tiny gadget clicked noisily for several moments until it produced a small flame from the barrel of the pistol.

"Fine gnomish technology," Derive stated with a grin.

Lupin folded his arms over his chest and snorted. "Did you pick that thing up at a flea market?"

"Maybe."

Lupin and Derive clambered down the rickety ladder and joined Lucy down in the basement. The wide stone chamber appeared to have once been some sort of tavern long ago, for the remnants of tables and chairs lay scattered about the floor, and at the far end of the room was a long wooden bar counter.

"Think I could get a drink here?" Lucy asked hopefully.

Lupin shook his head and let out a disapproving sigh. "I doubt it."

"Oh," the cat-girl said in disappointment. "Does anyone mind if I light up?"

"Jesus, how much devil weed did you buy?" Derive asked.

Lucy giggled as she used the swordsage's lighter to ignite her spliff. "Silly boy, Jesus doesn't have anything to do with devil weed."

"I'm going to take a look around," Lupin grumbled. "Would you two actually care to help?"

Spurred into action by the angry halfling, the investigators began to search the long forgotten speak-easy. After several minutes of poking around, Derive called out to his companions from behind the bar.

"Come take a look at this," Derive said as he slid back a small panel in the wall, revealing a narrow crawlspace.

"Hey, be careful with stuff like that," Lupin said reproachfully. "It could have been trapped!"

Derive nodded thoughtfully. "You're right. Hey Lucy!"

"Huh?" the cat-girl called out in confusion, looking away from the particularly sparkly piece of dust she had found.

"Want to come check out the hole?" Derive asked with a smile.

Lucy stuck her tongue out in disgust. "Eww, no way. It's all dirty and gross."

"I think they hid the booze back there," Lupin said dryly.

Lucy sprang to her feet and dived through the narrow hole, giggling excitedly. Derive and Lupin looked at one another and sighed in unison. After a few moments, they heard Lucy call out to them.

"Hey, I don't see any booze down here," the cat-girl whined. "Just people."

"People?" Lupin repeated in surprise.

The halfling scurried down the narrow crawlspace, Derive close behind him. The two emerged into a rectangular stone chamber just tall enough for the swordsage to stand upright. Projected onto gauzy silver screens were the images of men in black suits, each one adorned with a blank white mask with no mouth or eyes. Lucy sat in front of the screens, her eyes transfixed on the silent film before her.

"It's a movie," Lupin said after a few moments. "Just pictures."

"I can see the projectors on the other side of the screens," Derive stated.

Lupin squeezed behind the screens to verify his companion's claim. "You're right. I don't see anything powering them, though."

"Steam, I'd wager," the swordsage replied. "Gnomish technology."

Lupin came out from behind the screens, holding onto a tattered yellow book. He scratched his head in puzzlement.

"What's this?" he asked curiously.

"It's a book," Derive replied with a malicious grin as he snatched it away from Lupin.

Suddenly, the figures on the screen reached up in unison and pulled away their masks. However, before the investigators could see what was hidden behind the masks, the projectors came to a screeching halt and the images vanished, blanketing the tiny room in thick blackness.

"Is that good?" Lucy asked nervously.

Lady Moreta
2012-08-22, 10:38 PM
(for instance) to see what I mean (this one (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13052730&postcount=70), for example).

Heehee, that was hilarious :smallbiggrin:


Alright, permit me to refresh the collective memories - the four Seasons are the Seasonal Courts, governing bodies among Changelings/The Lost. Normally, the four Courts share power by ceding it to each Court in its proper season - so in Spring, Spring rules, et cetera. All of them are joined in resisting the Gentry (also known as the True Fae), who compose the elite troops and generals of the Host of a Thousand Princes - a vast army of the Gentry come to claim the mortal world and incorporate it into Arcadia.

And all of a sudden things become clear. I think I had it in my head that the various Courts were on different sides. I have no idea why and now that I think about it, it seems an awfully silly thing to be thinking :smallredface:


Yes, Moreta, as Bwaa said I do have a player that often breaks the fourth wall.

My group tends to do the same thing fairly frequently. I just - ignore that, when I write.

Other comments...

"Nope," Lupin said as he clambered up onto the stage. "You're a cat-girl in an anime horror game. Enough said."

"Tentacles," Derive said darkly.

:smallbiggrin: hilarious - I love it when they're genre-savvy :smallbiggrin:


Suddenly the floor beneath Lucy's feet shifted and gave way, and she screamed in terror as she plummeted into the darkness below.

I have no idea why (so you may be better off ignoring me), but this sentence bugs me. I think it's the terror... it just seems a bit too strong an emotion. Nothing else up to this point really suggests that any of them are that freaked out (Lucy shuddering notwithstanding). It just feels like surprise would be a better emotion here... and perhaps the terror can be something lingering they can hear in her voice once they've checked she's all right.


The swordsage withdrew a tiny clockwork pistol from his pocket and rapidly spun a small gear on the side. The tiny gadget clicked noisily for several moments until it produced a small flame from the barrel of the pistol.

I love gadgets :smallsmile: I like the description you give us here... it's good.


"Huh?" the cat-girl called out in confusion, looking away from the particularly sparkly piece of dust she had found.

Heehee :smallbiggrin: awesome. And I love the way they con her into coming over and checking it out anyway.


Projected onto gauzy silver screens were the images of men in black suits, each one adorned with a blank white mask with no mouth or eyes. Lucy sat in front of the screens, her eyes transfixed on the silent film before her.

Okay, creepy. I fully expected to find out Lucy had failed a will save or something... then she just starts up and moving around with no problems. I don't know if you did it deliberately or not, but it's very effective. Build up the tension and then - nothing happens. Reminds me of a scene in The Sixth Sense where they're doing everything they can with the action and the music and everything to build up the tension and then... a cat walks across the screen. (Scared the crap out of almost everyone in the cinema when I saw it.)


Suddenly, the figures on the screen reached up in unison and pulled away their masks. However, before the investigators could see what was hidden behind the masks, the projectors came to a screeching halt and the images vanished, blanketing the tiny room in thick blackness.

"Is that good?" Lucy asked nervously.

And then you beautifully bring the creepy and the tension back. Love it :smallsmile: and found myself wanting to shake my head at Lucy and tell her that no, it is not good.

And... I actually wrote something the other day! Well, the other day and a year ago... The character is one I played for a couple of weeks in my RL campaign when my usual character died and we went on a side-quest to get enough diamonds to resurrect her. This is backstory from my temporary character... and I warn you in advance, it's not very good. I started writing this about a year ago, with a plan for where it was gonna go and all... then I stopped writing (for about a year) and found it the other day, when I decided that I just wanted the damn thing finished. And since I can't remember what the 'plan' was, I just whacked an ending on it. I personally, think it's a rather hodge-podge effort and it shows. I just don't care :smalltongue:


A New Name
My eyes were burning. I’d like to be able to deny that they were tears, but, as so many of my friends and classmates have told me, I am nothing if not honest. Ironic really, considering my choice of career. I stood in a pokey little room at the top of a tower in what was probably the oldest part of the Ariaethus. And considering it was run by a 500-year-old elf, that was pretty damn old. I’m sure the room had a proper and correct name, and once upon a time I would have cared. Honesty and curiosity. If there are two traits a person can possess more likely to get them killed than those two, I don’t know what they are. And I have both in spades. Lucky me.

It was raining. Not a light summer shower that invited you out to run and chase a rainbow. Nor, alas, was it a heavy thunderstorm that made you glad to be inside and to have an excuse to curl up in front of a blazing fire with a hot drink. No, it was a type of rain fairly typical for this time of year, not that that made it any better. A steady heavy fall, more than a drizzle, but not so heavy as to be a storm. Dark grey clouds overhead, so tightly packed that, though they were probably moving steadily onwards, it was impossible to tell. Wasn’t it just my luck that I had to go out in that rain?

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Adventures never start out the way you want or expect them too. Not that this was an adventure. This was real life, my life. And when had my life ever gone according to plan?

“He’s dead. We have to leave.”

“No, I won’t leave him!”

“You have to. Calia, your father was just about the only person holding the kingdom together! You have to know this wasn’t an accident. And that makes you a target.”

“That’s ridiculous. I can’t take Father’s place; I haven’t reached my majority yet.”

“You’re only a few years away. Do you want to spend the next six years constantly looking over your shoulder?”

“I could…”

“Take a bodyguard? Yes, you could. You could ask Marnd, he’d love the chance to die for you. Or perhaps a taster, to check for poison. You’ve always been fond of the servants here, which of them will you choose? Or will it be-“

“ENOUGH! Enough Uncle. I take your point. What do you suggest I do?”

“Leave. Don’t stop to pack, get out of the palace, steal a horse and ride. Don’t stop and don’t look back.”

“Don’t you think stealing will make me just a tad conspicuous?”

“Don’t be absurd Calia, you’re better than that. Get to that bardic school you’re always talking about. Learn, travel, understand. I’ll send for you when it’s safe.”

“There’s really no other way?”

“No. And Calia? You’ll need a new name.”

And so here I stand, watching the rain fall, wondering if the old slate titles on this roof will continue to hold up under the onslaught. I’d almost forgotten that conversation. I remember thinking how unlike Father it was to be late for such an important event. I remember thinking he must have forgotten something and returned to our chambers to get it. I remember planning to tease him, for having an old grey head that forgot things.

Instead I got the gut-wrenching sight of the only parent I had left, lying bloody and broken on the pavement. Uncle Norchan had taken one look and immediately realised he must have been pushed or throw from our apartments above. All I can remember is the ruin I made of the gown I had been wearing that night. My favourite dress, champagne silk and ivory, loose flowing sleeves, patterned sash. Father’s blood soaked into the long sleeves as I pulled him into my arms, desperate. Uncle Norchan had ripped the blood-stained parts of my dress away, sleeves and the long hem, and sent me pelting through the servant’s corridors out into the city and out of the country. Everything happened so quickly after that, that it wasn’t until I was well on my way that it occurred to me how much fear had been in his voice.

But I did as I was told. I made it to the Ariaethus, looking nothing like the nobleman’s daughter I was, got accepted, and discovered that my voice was just as good as I’d always been told. And I had a new name.

The rain is getting heavier. I should have left this morning, before the rains came. I could have been safely tucked away in a roadside inn by now – or at the very least, tucked away inside a tent. Instead, I’m standing out here, getting wetter by the second, and putting off the journey I know I must make. I’m honest enough (and there goes that word again) to admit that I’m afraid. I’m afraid that my new name will not protect me outside the confines of the Ariaethus. I am afraid that the sheltered life I have led has left me woefully unprepared for the life I now must live. I’m afraid of being caught, of being tortured, of being found out for who I am. I wish with all my heart that I was going somewhere else. I wish I was someone else.

“Terryn? Are you ready to go?” I turned around at the sound of Lance’s voice behind me. He and I were to travel back to Celadia together and he had been surprisingly easy-going about my dragging my feet. From the kind and gentle look he was giving me, I think he knew I didn’t want to leave. I’m fairly certain though, he thought my reluctance had to do with the fiasco around Nadriene which to be honest, I’d forgotten all about. “We should get going,” he sounded apologetic, the poor man, when it was I who should be apologising to him.

“Yes, of course,” I said, moving towards him. “I’m sorry…” I gave him a sheepish look and he smiled at me and moved backwards into the shelter of the tower. We walked in silence down the stairs to the main building. There was no one to farewell us, that had been done the previous night – only our packs and wet-weather gear waited by the side entrance. Somehow, as I tugged a hopefully rainproof cloak over my already sodden shoulders, that seemed appropriate. Slipping away into the night seemed entirely appropriate to my new profession. Lance checked the waterproof wrappings on his lute and handed me a warm scarf.

“If we’re going to pay our way to Celadia, we need to protect our instruments” he said with a warm smile. I took the scarf and wound it around my throat, but all I could see were hundreds of childhood memories of someone, my father, my mother, my brother, wrapping a scarf around my neck. Then the images faded and I was left with the memory of my father’s blood soaking into my silk dress; the sight of my brother’s broken neck and my mother’s fever-wasted body. And I admitted that what I was afraid of most – was failing the people I loved and who had loved me.

I shifted my shoulders and settled the pack so it was balanced. Uncle Norchan had reassured me that someone would meet me in Celadia. All I had to do was be on the lookout for this ‘Norrin’ person. I tugged the hood over my head, smiled at Lance and marched out into the rainy night.

My name is Terryn Nor. I will make my family proud.

SleepyShadow
2012-08-23, 01:11 PM
Heehee, that was hilarious :smallbiggrin:

I do what I can to entertain :smallbiggrin:



I love gadgets :smallsmile: I like the description you give us here... it's good.

Just wait until they find the gnomish horseless carriage.



Heehee :smallbiggrin: awesome. And I love the way they con her into coming over and checking it out anyway.

My players do have their moments of awesome :smalltongue:



Okay, creepy. I fully expected to find out Lucy had failed a will save or something... then she just starts up and moving around with no problems. I don't know if you did it deliberately or not, but it's very effective. Build up the tension and then - nothing happens. Reminds me of a scene in The Sixth Sense where they're doing everything they can with the action and the music and everything to build up the tension and then... a cat walks across the screen. (Scared the crap out of almost everyone in the cinema when I saw it.)

And then you beautifully bring the creepy and the tension back. Love it :smallsmile: and found myself wanting to shake my head at Lucy and tell her that no, it is not good.

Thanks. Writing horror is a bit tricky for me, so I'm glad to know I could pull it off well enough.


I'll try to post some comments on your snippet sometime later. Definitely good work.

Dr Bwaa
2012-08-23, 03:25 PM
@SleepyShadow

If you're wondering why Lucy suddenly went from high to drunk, well, you're asking the wrong person.

Ah. Of course.


Lastly, I'm fairly certain that the swordsage with the 20 strength can do as he pleases with the stage curtains :smalltongue:

20 STR or no, the carriers up top must be made entirely of grease if anyone can just throw the things open more than a foot or two :smallwink:

Onward!


Lucy looked over her shoulder at the swordsage worriedly. "Is it because eldritch horrors lurk around every corner in places such as this?"

Lucy's player = Ed's player?


"Tentacles," Derive said darkly.

Ehehe. As Lady Moreta said, it's great when they're genre-savvy without necessarily being OOC :smalltongue:


Suddenly the floor beneath Lucy's feet shifted and gave way, and she screamed in terror as she plummeted into the darkness below.

I agree with the good Lady here, too, but I think the problems I have are threefold: I think "gave way" suggests that it couldn't hold Lucy's weight; that it crumbled somehow. Obviously this isn't the case, but you could also give some more information to the reader by indicating more how this trapdoor opened: did it really "shift" (which makes me think it slid out to the side like it was activated on purpose (also kind of giving me problems because it contradicts "gave way" in that sense)), or did it fall? Also, the second half of the sentence feels a bit stilted because of the repeated structure ("she screamed in terror", "she plummeted into the darkness"). Finally, "screamed" feels like it goes on for a long time. Now, it very well might--but in that case, we should hear her screaming after she's fallen, not in the first moment she drops. "Shrieked" or something similar may be a little nicer.


The swordsage withdrew a tiny clockwork pistol from his pocket and rapidly spun a small gear on the side. The tiny gadget clicked noisily for several moments until it produced a small flame from the barrel of the pistol.

I love the Gnomish lighter. No, wait--it's a Gnoman Candle (awwww yeeaaaaaa)! Great stuff. Is the whole setting Gnome-punk, or are they just a contributor?


Lupin and Derive clambered down the rickety ladder and joined Lucy down in the basement.

I don't think the second "down" is necessary at all.


"Oh," the cat-girl said in disappointment. "Does anyone mind if I light up?"

Ha; I like the non-sequitur. It may be worth thinking about coming up with another way to say "light up"; idioms are a great way to build setting flavor.


"I'm going to take a look around," Lupin grumbled. "Would you two actually care to help?"

Spurred into action by the angry halfling,

I don't get an "angry halfling" vibe from Lupin here, more of a "disgruntled babysitter" feeling. Just saying.


the long forgotten speak-easy.

I'm pretty sure speakeasy is one word. Also, there are two ways to fix the grammar here. It should either be "long-forgotten speakeasy" or "long, forgotten speakeasy". The first one means that the speakeasy has been forgotten for a long time. The second (which is closer in meaning to what you wrote) means that the speakeasy is both forgotten and long. :smallamused:


"I think they hid the booze back there," Lupin said dryly.

The more we see of Lupin's personality, the more I like him :smallbiggrin: This is very effectively-phrased; you communicate a lot with few words.


Lupin squeezed behind the screens

He has to squeeze to get between gauzy screens? I don't actually understand how that works at all.


"Steam, I'd wager," the swordsage replied. "Gnomish technology."

:smallbiggrin:


the projectors came to a screeching halt and the images vanished, blanketing the tiny room in thick blackness.

If they're not literally screeching, it's probably better to avoid that word here. If they are (definitely possible; this is Gnomish tech after all), maybe make a bigger deal out of it?


"Is that good?" Lucy asked nervously.

Nice. You've been doing some great character development with their one-liners; keep it up. I'm very intrigued; our heroes are pretty deep into this thing already without meeting any resistance besides creepiness--always a dangerous sign.


@Lady Moreta
Huzzah! She's posting again! (I'm pretty sure you did another snippet with this character, right? It's not exactly a common name, but I seem to remember you saying something a while ago about a character you played for a month while awaiting resurrection in the Celadians campaign, and so maybe that's actually this one, considering that they're headed for Celadia? I've grouped this snippet with the other "Terryn" one, but if it belongs with the Celadians, let me know :smallsmile:)

And I know you said you think this snippet is not very good, but I'm going to critique it anyway so there.


My eyes were burning. I’d like to be able to deny that they were tears

I'm pretty sure "they" ends up referring to "My eyes" in this construction.


I am nothing if not honest. Ironic really, considering my choice of career.

When you get to "Ironic really", it sounds kind of like you're correcting/amending the previous statement. It becomes clearer that you mean the honesty is ironic, but it's a little garden-pathy.


I stood in a pokey little room

I.... have no idea what would make a room "pokey". I cannot envision this at all.


And I have both in spades. Lucky me.

I like how self-aware the speaker is. It's an interesting perspective.


Not a light summer shower that invited you out to run and chase a rainbow. Nor, alas, was it...

I'd probably adjust the first sentence to parallel the second's structure a little more ("It was not a light summer shower").


I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Adventures never start out the way you want or expect them to. Not that this was an adventure. This was real life, my life. And when had my life ever gone according to plan?

Typo in bold. This is a very interesting paragraph; I didn't like it when I quoted it but I'm appreciating it more as I look at it. It's very disorganized and has a lot of self-contradiction (especially concerning surprise/expectation), but I think maybe it actually works as a way to communicate a state of mind.


“No. And Calia? [beat] You’ll need a new name.”

I don't know what exactly I want there, but I definitely want something. Line break, actual statement of a pause, "...", something, because I definitely read a beat after the question, and it feels like the continuation comes too fast.


wondering if the old slate titles on this roof will continue to hold up under the onslaught.

I thought it wasn't a storm?


I remember planning to tease him, for having an old grey head that forgot things.

Instead I got the gut-wrenching sight...

...And I had a new name.

The rain is getting heavier.

The tense shifts bug me. I know you're doing reflection on a flashback, but I generally like to go with past perfect for those sorts of things; I find it less abrupt when you have to switch back to the present (so "Instead I'd gotten...", "But I'd done as I'd been told", etc).


I turned around

This tense shift actually didn't bother me very much; it matches the beginning where you shift into inner-monologue mode (and now we're back). I think it's effective.


“We should get going,” he sounded apologetic, the poor man, when it was I who should be apologising to him.

This whole paragraph is a great introduction; you communicate a lot about Lance's personality without doing so explicitly.


There was no one to farewell us

I've never seen "farewell" used as a single, transitive verb before? I don't think I mind it, though.


a warm scarf.

“If we’re going to pay our way to Celadia, we need to protect our instruments” he said with a warm smile.

Aww. Lance is sweet (also you've got double "warm"s going on, but I'm mostly distracted by enjoying the moment).


Then the images faded and I was left with the memory of my father’s blood soaking into my silk dress; the sight of my brother’s broken neck and my mother’s fever-wasted body.

Aaaand it's gone. :smalleek:


And I admitted that what I was afraid of most – was failing the people I loved and who had loved me.

The "admitted" here is awkward. Presumably this is not a verbal admission, which means it belongs in Monologue Mode, and without the actual verb (or else, more explicit ("Okay, I admit--I'm most afraid of...")). I do like it as a sort-of segue into the final line (obviously it can't come right before the last paragraph because that would just be awkward; where it is is good).


I shifted my shoulders and settled the pack so it was balanced.

I get the image but the words don't flow.


All I had to do was be on the lookout for this ‘Norrin’ person. I tugged the hood over my head, smiled at Lance and marched out into the rainy night.

I want... something between the first and second sentences here. The nonsequitur bugs me. I don't know what I want, but I want it a lot.

Drowlord
2012-08-23, 08:32 PM
Right then! The last (in chronological order) of the storyline! I will definitely include the campaign before it, so I'm not finished with this line of snippets.

Kingdoms Will Fall III
The commander of the elite guard saw shifting, kaleidoscopic images spinning in the air as he dived through the portal. He saw shining sigils, symbols of war and peace, of law and chaos. Then dark red pentagrams emerged from the portal, coating him in darkness and smoke. He cried out once in shock, then was silent, standing firm as the images overtook him.

A grey gap in the shape of a four-pointed star emerged from the writhing air of the half-dead plane. The commander fell from it, easily landing on the soft red soil of the dark plane. He looked furtively around him, his grey eyes flashing with reflected charnel light from the surrounding area. The demon-guards better not spot me, or I'm toast. Then I'll never report to my master. As he darted around oddly organic-looking rocks and into small pits in the bloated surface of the Karanta, the home of demons, his features became more and more demonic in the red light of the fuming torches that lit the dark realm. It might have been the light, but it looked oddly like he was taking on the features of the denizens of the plane.

After hours of darting past lone sentries on crumbling towers like fingers reaching out of the trackless wastelands, he spotted the bleached white fortress that was the home of his master. The great one, whose name had once been Kaazen, had carved it out of the skull of a colossal demon while the giant was still living. The behemoth still lived, in fact: the plane's surface, for many feet down, was made of the rotting flesh of the still-living enemy, and occasionally, the heartbeat of the giant demon caused the ground to shudder. However, the demons of the plane were more pragmatic then that, and ignored the deathless heartbeat of the elder demon.

Thud.

The ground shook, and the commander shrugged off. It's a common occurrence here, no need to cause panic. His eyes slowly widened as he saw the cause of the shaking ground. That's not...

Walking, ghastly in the infernal light from greasy torches their leaders carried, were millions of demonic creatures. In the front, masses of dead souls shambled, whipped from behind by the cowardly imp-soldiers. Behind those, the berserkers of the Karanta stalked, as tall as evil trees in patchwork armor that was covered in abyssal blood. Their huge axes were held with practiced ease. The demonic cavalry, in resplendent mockery of gilded armor, spread out to the flanks, pressed silently forward on their nightmare steeds. Behind them all, the blood-giants marched; rank upon rank of titan cadavers animated by the lord of the Karanta. It was an army the likes of which the commander had never seen before, and he'd been serving his master for a long time.

His eyes widened- don't let them get me before I reach Master, please- and he dived behind two boulders on the slope of a nearby mountain as the army passed him. Evil horrors uncounted by rank and file went by. Finally, a magnificent warrior, taller than the mountain that the commander hid on the slopes of, cased in black armor and carrying a sword as big as a warship that emitted an aura of pain and torture (he knew that, a bit too well, from past experience) strode in yards-wide strides, came up behind his army.

"Hello, master."

The huge demon turned to him, red eyes blazing with soot and flame.

"HELLO, RED SWORD. HOW GOES THE WAR?"

The deomn lord's voice was an explosion. His teeth were curved tusks that pierced his bloodsteel helmet. They currently were in the features of a bestial smile, which seemed contrived on such a horrifying visage.

"Not well for my former allies, I'm afraid."

"GOOD."

"What is this army? Our agreement was that you would clean up the remnants of the devils, but this army looks equipped to handle two armies. Don't try to lie to me and say you're overpreparing, because demons don't prepare."

"POOR RED SWORD. YOU REALLY THINK A DEMON LORD WOULD PASS UP THE CHANCE FOR SO MANY SOULS TO EAT? YOU MUST BE LOSING YOUR TOUCH."

"We had a deal!"

"YEAH, LIKE A PERSONIFICATION OF CHAOS KEEPS DEALS ALL THE TIME."

The commander gritted his teeth. "I. Will. Kill. You. So. Hard."

"HOW? YOU'RE MY WARLOCK. MY KILLING OF YOUR PEOPLE IS A FAVOR. YOU WILL BE THE KING OF KYLORIA. KING OF THE FALLEN KINGDOM. HAS A NICE RING TO IT. DON'T THINK YOU CAN DO ANYTHING. WE ARE SOUL- BOUND, SO I CAN CONTROL YOU WHENEVER I WANT. REMEMBER THAT EXTRA LINE IN THE BOND THAT YOU HAD TO RECITE BECAUSE I WAS SO POWERFUL? THAT GAVE ME POSSESION OF ALL YOUR POWERS."

He was right. I had to be so careless just once. The commander glumly trudged along beside his lord. "How will you get through to my city?"

"I CAN EITHER ASK YOU NICELY TO LET US THROUGH, OR KILL YOU TO WIDEN THE PORTAL. YOUR CHOICE."

The commander sighed, flexing his hand at the portal, and red energy pulled on the portal's seams, producing an eerie whistling noise. The dead souls first, the grinning legions of the Karanta poured into the dying city, crushing the unsuspecting devils beneath their rapid advance.

* * *

The hundred or so elite mages, soldiers, and knights left were desperate. Their commander had left them, and the devils were still killing them wantonly. They had only reduced the devils to about several thousand, as far as the eye could see at night.
Then the demons came, and the devils focused on their hated enemies. The two evil armies attacked each other with elemental hatred, for now ignoring the few mortals huddled in the fortress's farthest end. The devils fought with clockwork efficiency, killing many demons each, but the demons were many more times numerous. As the chaotic fighting raged, a cloaked figure wove through the shadows to his countrymen.
The youngest of the mages, shocked, pointed a trembling finger at the warlock.
"You!"
The warlock held out his hand in a gesture of peace.
"Yes, me. I know what you saw; I made a deal with the demon lord to try to save you, and it backfired. You can join me to fight the evils I have unleashed, or you can escape and try to resist them in hiding. Your choice."
His voice was weary but full of his former nobility and strength. His eyes scanned the crowd of warriors.

About twenty of the very best, his former comrades before he had become the leader of the elite guard, stepped out and fanned around him, forming into a guard around him. The eldest of them, a mage only known as Old Timothy, rumbled, "We're with you."

The rest silently went to the harbor, going down the empty streets to try to escape into the wild ocean. They were disgusted at their former commander, and didn't care about him any more. They just wanted to save their lives and as many civilians as possible with them. The few living civilians flocked to them, stumbling to the dark, rotting timbers of the dock under a mocking moon.

* * *

The devils had reduced the demons in number greatly but fled, and only a few thousand demons remained on the nearly-dead island to dispatch with the puny humans. The remaining forces were the demon elite: the blood demons, the nightmare cavalry, and the Demon Lord himself. The huge demon lord strode out to the commander.

"WELL. SO IT ENDS. HAND THEM OVER, AND I WILL GIVE YOU YOUR PROMISED OVERLORDSHIP OF THE DEMONS AS MY LIEUTENANT. YOU DID A GOID JOB."

The few weary warriors looked at the commander uneasily as the mocking moon leered at their laughable state. They were half-dead, a tiny force fighting thousands of elite demons. It was a cosmic joke.

The commander hung his head. In drooping steps, he walked to his lord's foot and knelt before it.

"GOOD."

The huge, armored hand of the titanic demon lifted up the grey-cloaked warlock. The commander now saw the huge face of his lord, burning bright with ugly fires that were his eyes.

"BY MY POWER, I KNIGHT THEE FIRST KNIGHT OF KANTARA, COMMANDER OF DEMONIC FORCES. YOU ARE NOW THE GREATEST MAN IN THE WORLD. DO YOU ACCEPT THIS LIFE OF LUXURY AND POWER UNLIMITED?"

It was a ceremonial phrase, odd for a demon. But it was a great moment for the Demon Lord, so the archaic phrasing seemed ominously appropriate.

"No."

The warlock channeled all of his strength and leaped at the demon's eye, swinging his fist with fury. The human burst through the flames that were his outer eyes, landed in the area that was his slimy inner eye. With savagery, he bit and clawed into the center of the eye socket, tearing into the demon lord's brain.

The demon howled and tore at the eye, ripping deep into his own head. The mountainous demon collapsed, fires spurting from his dead eyes. The dying, powerless, deep-burnt commander limped out of the eye and grimly smiled with his remaining teeth.

"My name in Kerast Riventooth, and I like it. You kill my kingdom and break my deal and kill my chance of saving anybody, and then try to take my name? No. Bring it on, demons. You see your doom before you. Who's with me?"

The twenty elite soldiers shouted, their unanimous assent ringing in the dead city for a short time. Too short.

Then the demon hordes attacked, pouring into the twenty-one men. Swords clashed on sword, spells hissed through the air and demon claws ripped into armor among the empty towers and walls of the stone fortress. The final fight for Kyloria was on, and, though it was doomed, it would go out in a blaze of glory.

Lady Moreta
2012-08-23, 09:55 PM
Thanks. Writing horror is a bit tricky for me, so I'm glad to know I could pull it off well enough.

You did it very well :smallsmile:


Ehehe. As Lady Moreta said, it's great when they're genre-savvy without necessarily being OOC :smalltongue:

Yes! That's what I was trying to say before. I couldn't find the right words, but I'm glad I got the intent across. It's something I miss a bit in my game. We're all (well, okay, myself and one other player) are pretty genre-savvy, but we have a hard time doing it in character. A lot of meta-gaming goes on at our table.


No, wait--it's a Gnoman Candle (awwww yeeaaaaaa)!

Oh you didn't... :smalleek::smallbiggrin:


I don't get an "angry halfling" vibe from Lupin here, more of a "disgruntled babysitter" feeling. Just saying.

And actually, saying 'spurred on by a disgruntled babysitter halfling' is much funnier :smallbiggrin: I didn't mind the 'angry' so much, but the potential for humour compelled me to comment on this anyway.


This is very effectively-phrased; you communicate a lot with few words.

Indeed... I am jealous...


He has to squeeze to get between gauzy screens? I don't actually understand how that works at all.

I would imagine that the screens are fairly close to the wall and that he's trying to avoid touching them, hence the squeezing. Of course, I could just be reading a lot more into it than is there, based on my own experience in a high school production of A Midsummer Night's Dream where I did, in fact, have to squeeze between a wall and a screen (mostly to stop the screen from waving, as other people were on stage acting at the time).


I've grouped this snippet with the other "Terryn" one, but if it belongs with the Celadians, let me know :smallsmile:)

She belongs with the Celadians :smallsmile: I got lazy naming characters a while ago and consequently ended up with two named Terryn.


When you get to "Ironic really", it sounds kind of like you're correcting/amending the previous statement. It becomes clearer that you mean the honesty is ironic, but it's a little garden-pathy.

But I'm so fond of gardens... and paths :smalltongue: Seriously, I waffle... and I know that I waffle. It is the bane of my writing existence. I can't be succint to save my life.


I.... have no idea what would make a room "pokey". I cannot envision this at all.

I could... but now I can't...


Typo in bold. This is a very interesting paragraph; I didn't like it when I quoted it but I'm appreciating it more as I look at it. It's very disorganized and has a lot of self-contradiction (especially concerning surprise/expectation), but I think maybe it actually works as a way to communicate a state of mind.

I'd like to say it was deliberate, but it probably wasn't... I will say though, that she is a little messed up, so deliberate or not, it still works.


I don't know what exactly I want there, but I definitely want something. Line break, actual statement of a pause, "...", something, because I definitely read a beat after the question, and it feels like the continuation comes too fast.

Good point. There is meant to be a substantial pause there... and there always is one when I read it to myself... I just - forgot to actually write it in there.


The tense shifts bug me. I know you're doing reflection on a flashback, but I generally like to go with past perfect for those sorts of things; I find it less abrupt when you have to switch back to the present (so "Instead I'd gotten...", "But I'd done as I'd been told", etc).

What is this 'past perfect' you speak of? Seriously, I can generally look at a piece of writing and say whether or not the tense is appropriate, but I don't really understand grammar rules and I haven't the foggiest when it comes to nomenclature. Having said that, I hate writing flashbacks because of the tense trouble, so please, educate me!


I've never seen "farewell" used as a single, transitive verb before? I don't think I mind it, though.

Neither have I now that you mention it... don't know what I was thinking there, but hey, if it works it works!


Aww. Lance is sweet (also you've got double "warm"s going on, but I'm mostly distracted by enjoying the moment).

Aaaand it's gone. :smalleek:

Oops :smalltongue:


I get the image but the words don't flow.

They really don't, do they?


I want... something between the first and second sentences here. The nonsequitur bugs me. I don't know what I want, but I want it a lot.

I'd say I'll go back and fix it, but honestly? I probably won't. This was purely a case of 'get it out of the way' and I'm not sure I care enough to do anything to fix the darn thing... I can be lazy like that. Maybe I'll make it an experiment.

Okay, here's something I wrote last night... I'm doing homework for my game :smalltongue: Long story short, my character has been possessed by a demon and we're going to have to find an out-of-the-box solution. This is from the perspective of the npc paladin (who I apparently get)... coming to some realisations about my character and her past.

Telia.

Lord of Light could it get any worse?

Silver looks horrified, confused – and angry, which seems odd, though I suppose if I’d just found out someone else had been controlling my actions for the last two minutes, I would probably be angry myself. Nera looks dismayed, and a little worried as she casts glances towards the crack in the floor the voices had just come from. Rifus is looking from Tanc, to Silver and back again – he looks almost relieved – as if he’s glad to know he’s not the only one who succumbed to this demon, and guilty for feeling relief. His eyes also flicker up to the phylactery on his forehead – the intelligent phylactery, if-you-please. I wonder what it thinks of all this? Tanc looks worried and a little ‘what are we going to do now?’ and I notice that he too, is flicking his eyes towards the phylactery, where I suppose he, it, and Rifus are having a council of war. Silver still looks confused, though now she’s added guilt and uncertainty to her expression. Her mouth is open slightly and she’s looking at each member of the party in turn, like she wants to ask a question but isn’t sure who she should ask, or even if she should ask.

“Are you all right?” I move closer to her so I can ask my question quietly, but I still see Tanc’s eyes flick briefly to me, before returning to his telepathic conversation with Rifus’ phylactery. Silver jumps a little and her hands pause in their frantic motions – moving through her pack, her gear, her belongings I realise, wanting to see if anything is missing.

“I’m fine.” She mutters, her hands flying back into action. “I don’t remember the last two minutes and I have no idea how that demon-” the word hisses through her teeth, “got its claws in me. But I’m fine.” She’s moved on to searching her pouch of spell components now, pulling out each little parcel, unwrapping it, counting the contents and putting it back in again. She swears angrily at herself when she accidentally pulls out the same package twice, and even goes so far as to stomp her foot. I’m about to point out that she is clearly not fine, when her expression goes from unhappy to stricken so fast I wonder what just happened, if the demon has tried to take control again. She doesn’t have anything in her hands, but her face when she turns to me is full of guilt.

“What was I doing?” She whispers, almost too quietly to hear. “Before – all this…” she gestures towards the rest of the group. Nera, still looking worried, has appointed herself guard, and is kneeling by the crack in the floor, head tilted down, Persephone on her shoulder also angled towards the ground in a way that would look comical if it weren’t for the circumstances. Tanc and Rifus are still holding their quiet council and Silver – Silver looks like she’s just realised something and she desperately wants to be wrong.

“Ahhh, we were moving quietly.” I start, trying to think back over those last two minutes and finding it much harder to remember than it should be. “We knew the Dark Servants were up ahead, Tanc and Rifus were scouting ahead and they heard the chanting. You were dancing; you said you were warming up for- What? What is it?” For Silver has gone white, paler than I think I’ve ever seen her before, and I have seen her dead. One hand reaches for the wall behind her and she curls her fingers around the rock like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. She looks horrified and angry and guilt-stricken… and quite frankly, she looks like she might throw up.

“It was me…” again, her voice is so quiet as to be non-existent. “I did it.”

“You did what?” I keep my voice quiet and gentle and take a step towards her, as much as Silver detests men (and is not afraid to tell them), she looks like she needs the support. “Silver? What did you do?”

“The noise.” Green eyes, darkened with emotion, stare up at me. “Tanc said- someone said… there was some noise and then the Dark Servants realised we were here. It was me. I did that… I- I betrayed us…” her voice trails off and she sags back against the wall, and I finally realise what she means.

“No you didn’t. Telia did. The demon used you. That doesn’t make you responsible.” She stares at me with hollow eyes and I can tell she is not convinced. “Silver… She possessed you. You are not responsible for what Telia did using your body.”

She doesn’t answer, and as I lean forward to see her more clearly, I realise that she is no longer even looking at me. She is staring blankly ahead, at something I cannot see. For one moment I think that Telia has taken control again, then common sense – and my training – reasserts itself and I remember that with both Silver and Rifus, we had no indication there was anything wrong until they suddenly couldn’t remember past events. Clearly Telia is subtle and prefers to remain hidden as long as possible. And my training reminds me that a demon cannot exert control again so soon. No, this is all Silver – and yet, it is not. I have known this woman for almost a year now, and she never loses control. She is grace, and charm, and poise; she has a ready answer for everything and everyone. In fact, the only time I have ever seen her at a loss for words was when…

And suddenly I know. I know what it is that has been disquieting me – so quietly, so subconsciously that I didn’t realise something was wrong until I also realised what was wrong.

I have seen this expression, this blank nothingness, on Silver’s face before.

When Telia confronted her and claimed to be her daughter.

Of course, we knew Telia was evil at that point. And it was not long afterwards, that her true nature was revealed and she fled. After she had -- exerted control over Silver and drained her of life force… after she had spent all that time with Rifus. I suppose now I know why Telia chose these two for her attacks. Clearly prior contact has something to do with it. But now my subconscious is my conscious and I must examine the facts if we are to find a way out of this.

One. Telia is possessing Silver, in the same way she possessed Rifus, though it appears she can only exert control for limited periods of time and not consecutively.
Two. We no longer have the scroll that enabled us to summon the Deva which expelled Telia from Rifus. And as I recall, Silver herself cast that spell… I am – doubtful that any of the company would be comfortable having her in that role again. No, we must find another method to cast out this demon.
Three. Silver is clearly distraught over this situation – beyond what it warrants, in my opinion. She, and her friends, have been doing this long enough that surely she must know they won’t hold her actions while controlled against her? Yet it is clear she feels she has betrayed them.
Four. Her reaction now is very similar to her reaction then. So is it simply Telia as the common link, or is there some other reason? Something to do with her sense of betrayal?

I turn my attention back to Silver; she seems to have returned to the present, for her eyes are focused on me – still green, but dark and shadowed and haunted. Even as I think the word and wonder why I chose it, I sense that it is the correct one. Silver is haunted… but by what?

“Silver…” I hold out my hand towards her, hoping she will take it. Hoping she will let me help her, for I believe I am the only one who can. I am left staring dumbfounded when she shrinks away from me, her hands flying up defensively – that same angry expression back on her face. Only this time… this time it looks a lot like fear.

Fear. Betrayal. Loss of control. Telia claiming to be her daughter. That blank expression.

It suddenly occurs to me how little I know about Silver. I have heard little snippets, stories from the others, details of home life, funny stories, sad stories – reasons why they left, reasons why they stay. But none from Silver. And it occurs to me, how much more do her friends know about her? I would wager – if I were a betting man – that it’s not much more than I know, if any. And it occurs to me that sometimes – fear? Looks a lot like anger. Or hatred.

Fear. Betrayal. ‘You were possessed’. ‘You are not responsible for what Telia did using your body’.

I am beginning to see a picture here, and it is not one I like.

That blank expression. Anger. Hatred. Fear. Grief. Loss of control… and a daughter.

Five. What if…? What if Telia knew something about Silver that none of us knew? What if she used that then because she knew Silver would not be able to stop herself from responding… to the idea of a daughter. And what if…?
Six. What if those – truths, for I am near-certain they must be, can be used to free Silver from Telia’s influence? If Silver can learn to be truthful, open and vulnerable – perhaps she can be freed.

… in more ways than one.

Winds
2012-08-24, 09:54 PM
@Drowlord

Hah. Gotta love the element of surprise. The overall snippet is well written, and I really like the portrayal of your demon lord. Nice work.




Meanwhile, my snippet's party continues to have poor fortune: having their lives and souls at risk isn't bad enough, now their minds are as well!


The mirror in my head


Ever since I drew that thrice-cursed Void card, I've been fighting to keep my sanity. First torture, then dreams...but now I'm having visions in waking hours. Only...they may not be...

Suffice to say, I am concerned for my mental health.

The old man left just after dropping us off. This place has a reputation for driving inhabitants mad, one he had no interest in testing. We weren't much concerned. However, the tower isn't here. The compass points to the center of town, but it isn't there, above or below. So, we began to search for the guardian.

The town is long since deserted, so it was merely a question of searching until we found it, or it found us. The first thing of note was that I began to hear music outside an old tavern...and Kol, whose ears are far sharper, didn't.

We walked into the place, and I found myself alone, and misplaced. You see, as I passed the doorway, I entered the tavern in days when it was lively and populated.

I took a seat, and a drink, and thought about what to do next. Perhaps half an hour later, I glanced up from my drink to see a woman that matched Aileph's dream-woman...for a mere instant before I found myself in the tavern as it is now. The dust of years was thick around me, no foot prints to show me walking there, no tracks in the table where I had lifted and set my mug...the mug itself had aged in my hand.

My compatriots returned later. As far as they were concerned, I had disappeared. They both spoke of seeing the dream-woman in mirrors, and that she had murdered their reflections. I took their word for it. My account was stranger, no doubt.

We continued our search, finding nothing until we turned back toward the docks. We saw the ocean was red, and it flooded toward us. I was carried away, again, on a wave of blood. I sat up in the town center, with no sign of what had brought my there.

Looking back, it seems like 'Something' wanted me separate from my allies...

I went in search of them, this time. But when I turned the corner, the walls had changed. They were all mirrors, and there was the dream-woman, drawing a knife across 'my' throat.

The mirrors disappeared...but no other mirror I found showed me in them.

I caught up with my allies...again...and we went to investigate a building...and I got separated.

AGAIN

For a refreshing novelty, I was grabbed by something physical rather than...whatever the other things were. Of course, being grabbed by someone from the other side of a mirror may still qualify...

I found myself in, of all things, what looked like a young girl's nursery. The red woman was there, only...not. 'She' is a twin. It seems that either of them can grab someone from the 'true' world...but the other decides where they come out.

Yin, as she calls herself, explained this over tea. But there is much to do tomorrow, and I need sleep. More on this later.

Lord_Gareth
2012-08-25, 12:08 PM
I'm having trouble developing a perspective for the promised Star Wars snippet. I don't want to do it from the PoV of my character specifically because it'd kinda remove from the impact of the scene, and I can't do it from the adversary's PoV because the GM didn't disclose a lot of essential information to me. The unfortunate bit is that due to circumstances that took place at the time the rest of the people (NPC and my fellow PCs) weren't able to act, which might cut from the emotional impact.

Decisions, decisions....

SleepyShadow
2012-08-25, 04:18 PM
@Lady Moreta: Yes, you are correct. He was squeezing because touching the screens with the creepy people on them seemed like a bad idea at the time. As for comments on your snippets ...

#1: Overall, I liked your first snippet quite a lot. It had a good story going and could easily be continued further. A small complaint I had was that Lance seemed somewhat vague as to his position. I gathered that he was a bardic colleague, but is he a romantic interest or just a friend? He seemed to waiver back and forth between the two.

#2: Forgive me for saying this, but until you said Silver was a woman I could not shake from my head the image of an old character of mine by the same name. Just a silly coincidence, I know :smalltongue: Moving right along, I liked the writing as a whole, though I had a few things to point out.

Perhaps I just missed someone saying it, but I never noticed the name of the character whose POV we are seeing this from. It's not necessary to know, but I just think it would be a nice touch for someone to say his name at some point.

What is Persephone? Just curious.

I felt that the list of the POV's thoughts was a little awkwardly written. In particular:

Silver herself cast that spell… I am – doubtful that any of the company would be comfortable having her in that role again
It may just be me being picky, but the floating hyphen added nothing to the sentence in my opinion.

Lastly, I can agree with Silver. No one likes unexpected demon babies :smallbiggrin:


Alrighty, here we go now. More steam-powered anime Cthulhu goodness!

Sound and Light
A few tense moments passed in the pitch blackness, the only sounds to be heard were Lucy's frightened breathing and the rapid clicking of Derive's clockwork fire-starter as he tried to relight it. At last, the three investigators were blessed with the dim glow from the tiny flame of the gnomish gadget. Lupin looked toward Lucy and smiled when he saw that she calmed down quickly.

"Okay," Derive asked, "so what happened there?"

Lucy held up her hand like a schoolgirl answering the teacher's question and smiled brightly. "The projectors broke."

"How insightful," the swordsage grumbled. "Do you have any useful knowledge, or are you really that dumb?"

"Does Profession (Bartender) count as useful?" Lucy asked, tilting her head slightly.

Lupin quickly interposed himself between his two companions as Derive lunged for Lucy, reaching out to throttle the catgirl.

"The projectors broke because they weren't gnome-built. They were dwarven craftsmanship," Lupin said quickly as he struggled to keep the swordsage away from Lucy, who cowered in fear of Derive's wrath.

"I thought dwarves were only good at building weapons," Derive replied, ceasing his attempts to strangle the catgirl.

Lupin nodded, glad to have stemmed the conflict for the time being. "They are. Projectors aren't supposed to run off of black powder, after all."

Suddenly Lucy's tall furry ears perked up, and she looked around quizzically. "I hear someone out in the bar."

Lupin nodded to Derive, and the swordsage placed his hand on the hilt of his sword as he crawled out of the hidden chamber. Lucy looked at Lupin nervously, and the halfling took her by the hand and pulled her along behind him as he followed close behind Derive.

"Who's there?" a deep voice called out to them from across the room.

Lupin squinted in the harsh light of the newcomer's hooded lantern, but smiled when he recognized the carpenter from the lobby.

"Hi there, Frank," the halfling said cheerfully.

"Oh, it's you three," Frank replied as he set his lantern down on a nearby table. "Did you find anything?"

"Yeah," Derive answered. "Found that hidden chamber over there and I found this book here."

"Hey, I found it," Lupin grumbled.

Derive shrugged noncommittally. "Anyway, it says here that this place used to be a hideout for a group called The Order of Light and Sound, a group that worshiped something called The Watcher from Beyond. Does that ring any bells?"

Frank looked at them very gravely and nodded. "Aye, it does ... do you know what films are made from?"

"Talent, vision, and wonderful acting!" Lucy suggested with a smile.

Frank shook his head. "Light and sound. Light and sound are what films are made of. It's what everything is made of. It Who Seeks is an unmaker, an antithesis of light and sound ... it is more than darkness and silence, it is nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing but sound and light and void ..."

"Frank, you're scaring me," Lucy said worriedly, taking a step toward the back corner of the room.

"Light and sound and void ... light and sound and void ..." Frank repeated over and over, saliva dribbling down his chin. "The void unmakes all ... but you can't know that ... I will unmake ... I will unmake the three of you!"

Lady Moreta
2012-08-25, 11:32 PM
It had a good story going and could easily be continued further.

It was originally intended to go somewhere else entirely - I just couldn't remember where.


A small complaint I had was that Lance seemed somewhat vague as to his position. I gathered that he was a bardic colleague, but is he a romantic interest or just a friend? He seemed to waiver back and forth between the two.

I have no idea.. he was a throwaway character I invented on the spot because I realised I needed someone else to get Terryn down off the tower and on her way.


Perhaps I just missed someone saying it, but I never noticed the name of the character whose POV we are seeing this from. It's not necessary to know, but I just think it would be a nice touch for someone to say his name at some point.

No one does, largely because this is mostly an internal monologue on his part, and the only person he's really interacting with is Silver and she already knows his name (it's Lester). I wrote a companion piece, from Silver's PoV, where he is mentioned by name... I just hadn't written it when I posted the first one.


What is Persephone? Just curious.

Owl. Again, I deliberately didn't add info like that because this is just an internal monologue for the most part, and he already knows Persephone is an owl.


It may just be me being picky, but the floating hyphen added nothing to the sentence in my opinion.

Yeah, I wasn't happy with that sentence either... I had trouble putting pauses in the right places.


Lastly, I can agree with Silver. No one likes unexpected demon babies :smallbiggrin:

Demon babies? I didn't say anything about demon babies... :smallconfused: if that's what you got out of that snippet, then I did something wrong. :smalleek:

The entire thing was written as a way to get into my character's head (Silver is my character, Lester is an npc), because the DM and I came up with a novel way to get rid of the demon and I needed to work out Silver's perspective and responses. Apparently, the easiet way to do that was to write from the paladin's perspective first. But - and hopefully this will make things clearer... here is Silver's perspective of the same conversation.

I warn you - it's a little disjointed in places - that's deliberate and is meant to show the somewhat screwed up place Silver is in right now.

“You can’t remember what happened? You can’t remember what happened like you just stopped paying attention can’t remember, or like Rifus couldn’t remember?” Tanc looks and sounds suddenly tense, everyone else looks suddenly worried, and I am…

Oh. Oh no…

Possessed. I’ve been possessed the same way Rifus was, only this time there’s no deva to get rid of it. No way to get free, no one to hear me screaming, no one to break the spell, no one to hear me crying, no one to save me. No control, no self, not me. Oh gods, it’s happening again… not again.

It wasn’t me! It wasn’t my fault!

“Are you all right?” The voice – Lester’s voice, a small, sensible, thinking part of my brain informs me – makes me jump and immediately I feel like I’m about to crawl out of my skin and I suddenly realise my hands are pawing through my things – my pack, the gear I keep close at hand, the pouch my spell components are kept in. And I realise I have no idea why I’m doing it – just that I’ve done it before. Just that I have to know things are still where they should be. Because nothing is where it should be… not any more. But I was supposed to be over this! I moved on! I made myself a promise – never again. Man or demon, they’re all the same…

“I’m fine.” I mutter the words as the coherent part of my brain prompts me to speak. My hands pause briefly in their frantic searching and I wonder what else I can check. What else has been ripped from me? Stolen? Taken against my will… as I lay flat, straining, desperate and-- “I don’t remember the last two minutes and I have no idea how that demon-” the word comes out as a hiss and I’m surprised it doesn’t come out as a name, “got its claws in me.” I finish, forcing the words out through my teeth. “But I’m fine.”

Yeah. I don’t believe it either.

I push those bad thoughts (memories) back down where they belong and get blindsided by another thought – I am a spellcaster. Feeling a little more frantic every second, I start pulling out all the materials I’ve gathered over the years, each one wound up in paper and tucked carefully into its own place. Each one gets yanked out and compulsively checked and I can’t help the frustration when I find myself checking everything twice – enough that I grind my foot into the ground and start swearing. I’ve been down this road before – this obsessive checking of everything. Check everything…

I close my eyes to concentrate better and feel it instantly. Something is wrong. Something is missing (gone missing gone and I’ll never get it back). I can feel the blood drain out of my face and I don’t want to ask, I don’t want to know but I have to know.

“What was I doing?” Nothing, so how could this possibly be my fault. I’d done nothing, just walki- just scaling that trapped wall. “Before – all this…” I trail off and wave vaguely towards the rest of the group I can just see standing nearby. I force myself to focus on them instead of the tangle of now and then ricocheting around my head. Nera is kneeling by a crack in the floor, Tanc and Rifus are standing together, talking quietly and occasionally looking up at the phylactery Rifus now wears. I drag my eyes back to Lester – I don’t (need) want to know… but he will tell me the truth.

Please don’t tell me what I think you’re going to tell me…

“Ahhh, we were moving quietly. We knew the Dark Servants were up ahead.” He pauses, thinking. “Tanc and Rifus had gone ahead, scouting, they heard the chanting. You were dancing – you said you were warming up for- What? What is it?” He stopped abruptly, and I knew it was because of me – or more correctly the look on my face. What little colour I had left has surely gone and I gro- scramble for the wall behind me. The rock is hard and cold beneath my fingers and I cling to it, rock doesn’t hurt, rock doesn’t take, rock keeps you upright when you can’t stand on your own and what have I done?

“It was me…” the words try to choke me coming out and I have to force myself to speak. “I did it.” ‘He did it.’

“You did what?” A step closer – don’t Lester, just don’t. “Silver? What did you do?” ‘Nothing! I did nothing! He made me. I couldn’t stop him… I couldn’t make…’

“The noise.” I stare up at the paladin, feeling like I’m bleeding from every pore, that every emotion I’ve ever felt must be written all over my face, wishing, wanting – like I’ve never wanted anything in my life, to just disappear into the rock behind me. “Tanc said – someone said…” it might have been Tanc, it might not have been, I can’t remember. I can only remember screaming… screaming in my head and making no noise.

“There was some noise and then the Dark Servants realised we were here. It was me. I did that… I-” I did everything you told me to and you still blamed me. Told me I betrayed you, told me it was my fault… and then you took everything away from me and I- I betrayed…

“I betrayed us” Them. I betrayed them. My voice trails off and I realise I’m no longer certain who I’m talking to or what I’m talking about. The demon in the here and now, or the demon- the man in the past. I lean against the wall behind me, sag hopelessly and wish helplessly for it all to just go away.

“No you didn’t. Telia did. The demon used you. That doesn’t make you responsible.” Telia? I stare blankly at Lester, wondering when I’d missed the point we identified the demon. The demon who used me. “Silver… she possessed you. You are not responsible for what Telia(Jerik) did using your body.” Tell that to my mother, paladin. She blamed me for what Jerik did. I blame myself, why shouldn’t she have? I knew he wasn’t to be trusted, Lianna told me to be careful. Lianna… my friend. I refuse to believe she took- what was mine. No matter what my mother said, she wouldn’t. And yet, when we met, Lianna- Terryn wouldn’t say a word. Wouldn’t look me in the eye longer than she had to. Mother and Father and cousins wouldn’t look me in the eye – tainted, betrayer, your fault your fault your fault your fault… my fault. But I was trapped. I didn’t know then what I know now…

“Silver…” a man’s voice, a deep voice… Jerik had a deep voice. A man’s hand reaching out to me. A man’s hand reaching to touch, to grab and pull and strike. I pulled way, shrank back against the rock, desperate to get away. My lips curled back and I snarled – no! No man will ever touch me again! I made that promise to myself long ago… when Jerik left me and I was alone and cold and I couldn’t move until Lianna found me and there was blood and everything was wet and cold and I couldn’t stop shaking and she told me it would be all right, but it would never be all right again and these memories just won’t go AWAY!

"Silver, listen to me. You can fight this. Demons come at us through our weaknesses...” that voice is back, but there is no hand, no touch, no one to laugh at me while I can’t even scream. And the present slams back into me with the force… with the force of Tanc’s punch and that’s Lester’s voice.

“… fear,” I don’t know any emotion but fear “lies,” lies are the only way to protect myself “anger,” keeps me safe, keeps those who would hurt me away “these are their weapons.” weapons to keep me safe…

“But you're among friends. Friends... love... can defeat them. Trust, hope, these things are poison to demons. You can trust us, Silver. Break its weapons -- let go of anger. What fear is it using against you? What secrets does it know?”

How did Telia know? How does Lester know? How have I hidden this for so long, turned fear to anger, lies to truth? and anger…? well, anger keeps the memories away. These are my weapons, the only weapons I had against a world who used me and hurt me and threw me away… I can’t let go, they’re all I have left. Even if they bleed me to death…

I can’t let go…

Dr Bwaa
2012-08-27, 04:05 PM
So much wriiittiiiiiiiingggggg.

Good thing you guys are doing it though, because I've been in a bit of a slump.


Oh you didn't... :smalleek::smallbiggrin:

Oh yes I did :smallamused:

Drowlord

he dived

This made me go do research. Before now I'd only used "dived" (as opposed to "dove") in past-perfect constructions, but according to every source I have, the two words are actually identical and "dived" is considered the more correct. So good job.


He saw shining sigils, symbols of war and peace, of law and chaos, flying around him at first. Then dark red pentagrams emerged from the portal, coating him in darkness and smoke.

The part I bolded seems awkward and unnecessary. We've got these images kaleidoscoping through the air, so "flying around him" doesn't give much more information, and the "at first" is simply awkward--it reveals too early (in my humblefantastic opinion) that the images he's seeing will change--saying that he sees something BUT OH WAIT SOON IT WILL BE SOMETHING ELSE all within the same sentence doesn't have a very strong effect. Better is just "...law and chaos. Then they were replace by dark red pentagrams emerging from the portal, coating him in..."


He cried out once, then was silent as the leering images overtook him.

I have difficulty picturing a "leering" pentagram. Also, the pentagrams themselves are kind of cliche. Double also, why is he crying out? There's no stated reason for this, or for the symbols doing bad things besides obscuring him from sight--if something's happening to him, we should know about it!


A grey portal in the shape of a four-pointed star emerged from the writhing air of the half-dead plane.

This is great. I'd like to see "portal" replaced with something as descriptive as the rest of the passage, though.


The commander fell from it, easily landing on the soft red soil of the dark plane.

I get the impression that he didn't land on his feet (after all, last we heard of im he was screaming, and also elsewhere. For that matter, a *** sort of section break might be appropriate before this paragraph, since we're plane-shifting.). The "easily" makes it seem like he's just effortlessly hopping out of the portal, which is pretty incongruous with someone who was just screaming and being eaten by pentagrams.


The demon-guards better not spot him, or he was toast. Then he'd never report to his master.

This is really awkward; our narrator has not been omniscient up until this point, and suddenly we're getting stilted inner dialogue. Make this a proper internal thought or get rid of it, in my opinion.


his features became more and more demonic in the red light of the fuming torches that lit the dark realm.

After hours of darting past lone sentries

...but... you can't leave me hanging like that! Is he actually becoming more demonic, or is it a trick of the light? That's the kind of thing that's pretty important to let the reader know!


he spotted the bleached white fortress that was the home of his master. His master had carved it out of the skull of his predecessor as the Lord of Karanta while his opponent was still living.

We need another name for this guy really badly. Also, (un)holy badass castle, Batman! The castle itself is great, but the second sentence here could be rephrased; it's pretty hard to read.


giant demon caused the ground to shudder. However, the demons of the plane were more pragmatic then that, and ignored the deathless heartbeat of the elder demon.*

That's an awful lot of that word. I realize we're in Hell, but really. Also, what is that asterisk doing there?


the commander shrugged it off. But then he did a double-take

This is probably the most awkward possible double-take. You want it to read as a sudden realization, but putting a period after "shrugged it off" closes that thought, and "but" is a bad way to reopen it ("but" should also never be the first word in a sentence). "The commander was about to dismiss it as such a heartbeat when he noticed the true cause of the shaking ground."


Standing, ghastly in the infernal light from greasy torches their leaders carried, were millions of demonic denizens.

I like this a lot, except for "Standing", which is a fine word but sort of needs something else with it--if you just said "Before him, ghastly in the etc" I'd assume that they're standing.


whipped from behind by the cowardly imp-soldiers.

"cowardly imp-soldiers" don't strike me as taskmasters with whips.


averaging ten feet tall

So he's taking the time to identify all the berserkers, measure each of them, and do an average?


patchwork armor that was covered in abyssal blood

Extra words reduce clarity.


Behind them all, the blood-giants marched

Blood giants marching while the rest are standing seems like a recipe for disaster (for everyone but the blood giants). Reading on a paragraph, we find that the army is, in fact, marching--so why did you start the paragraph with "standing"? (and you have them standing in a couple other places, too).


for a long time.*

ASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSTERISKS!


He nimbly hid behind two boulders

nooo. "nimbly hid" is so bland, and doesn't give the reader any credit. You're telling us what the consequences of his actions were, and telling us how to evaluate them. Instead, just show the actions themselves; him spotting the army, eyes widening, leaping behind a boulder.


evil horrors uncounted by rank and file went by.

Well, there are definitely millions of them. And few enough berserkers to average. :smallwink:


taller than the mountain that the commander hid on the slopes of

awkward.


cased in black armor and carrying a sword as big as a warship that emitted an aura of pain and torture strode in yards-wide strides, came up behind his army.*

Sword the size of a warship: awesome. "emitted an aura of pain and torture" = you're telling again. Who even knows this fact? Does the commander know about the sword already? If so, why wouldn't we just learn that outright? Reading ahead we learn that he does, and that reveal is fine, but this kind of telling is just really awkward--there's no basis for the reader knowing that. "strode in yards-wide strides, came up behind his army.*" Besides the repetition, you've also got too many verbs. If the sentence is getting away from you, the chances of your readers understanding it are pretty slim.


The huge demon turned to him, red eyes blazing with soot and flame.

I'm not sure what "blazing with soot" looks like, but I don't really mind it here. The image isn't clear, but the feeling is.


The deomn lord's voice was louder than an explosion.

Give me a more direct comparison; this feels clunky. Again, you're using a lot of unnecessary words. You can just say "his voice was an explosion" and we'll get it.


They currently were in the features of a bestial smile.

What? I mean, I know what you mean, but this is just awkward ("his teeth... were in the features of a ... smile"???)


"YEAH, LIKE A PERSONIFICATION OF CHAOS KEEPS DEALS ALL THE TIME."

Is he... really this sarcastic? Sarcasm doesn't come across as threatening. At all.


"I. Will. Kill. You. So. Freaking. Hard."

This is well done (but I'd replace "freaking" with a setting-appropriate analogue. No time like the present for world-building!


I AM SOUL-BOUND TO YOU, SO I CAN CONTROL YOU WHENEVER I WANT.

"you are soul-bound to me". If the demon is the "bound" one, that implies the warlock in a position of control.


The commander sighed and widened the portal.

How? Again, show us the actions; don't tell us the result.


a cloaked figure wove through the shadows to his countrymen.*
"You!"

"Yes, me. I know what you saw; I made a deal with the demon lord to try to save you, and it backfired. You can join me to fight the evils I have unleashed, or you can escape and try to resist them in hiding. Your choice."
His voice was weary but full of his former nobility and strength. His eyes scanned the crowd of warriors.

I know we're supposed to be somewhat in the dark here, but giving the reader no information about either person in the conversation just makes me lose interest int eh conversation, because it's happening between people I don't know and therefore can't care about.


About twenty of the very best stepped out and fanned around him, forming into a guard around him. The eldest of them, a mage only known as Old Timothy, rumbled, "We're with you."

How do we know? Again, random-yet-trivial omniscience from the narrator is disconcerting.


They were disgusted at their former commander, and didn't care about him any more. They just wanted to save their lives and as many civilians as possible with them.

Yes, obviously, since they just left. Take these two sentences out and replace them with description of the journey to the docks, or a few specific actions that showcase their disgust.


The devils had reduced the demons in number greatly but fled

You're mixing tenses here because of the weird construction. "...greatly reduced the demons in number, but were eventually routed".


dispatch with the puny humans.

You dispatch things; you don't dispatch with them.


The warlock channeled all of his strength and leaped at the demon's eye, swinging his fist with fury. The human burst through the flames that were his outer eyes, landed in the area that was his slimy inner eye. With savage fury, he bit and clawed into the center of the eye socket, tearing into the demon lord's brain.

The demon howled and tore at the eye, ripping deep into his own brain. The mountainous demon collapsed, fires spurting from his dead eyes. The dying, powerless, deep-burnt commander walked out of the eye and grimly smiled with his remaining teeth.

This could stand to be expanded a bit; you've also got a lot of your usual word repetition making it kind of stilted to read. One specific thought: the commander just walks back out, but he's missing a few teeth? Have him crawl or stagger or something; anything but "walked".


The final fight for Kyloria was on, and, though it was doomed, it would go out in a bang.

This is a weird phrasing; can a fight "go out with a bang"?


*

And really, where did all these come from?

Sorry for seeming super-critical on this one; it's really just the same couple things in several places, but they're things that really bug me so I feel compelled to point them out every single time. Don't get me wrong--I definitely enjoyed this snippet; I really want to see the events that led up to all this mayhem. Sounds like quite an adventure.


@Winds

AGAIN

This feels a bit too forceful for Kalach. I expect the word, but more of a snyde "...I got separated. Again." than a capslocked yell.


'She' is a twin. It seems that either of them can grab someone from the 'true' world...but the other decides where they come out.

Expand on this!! It's a super cool mechanic, but where did he actually "come out"? What is this nursery? Presumably it has significance...


More on this later.

Oh man I hope so. This is one of my favorite snippets in this story so far.


@SleepyShadow

Lucy held up her hand like a schoolgirl answering the teacher's question and smiled brightly. "The projectors broke."

Awesome. As usual, Lucy's characterization is great.


"Does Profession (Bartender) count as useful?" Lucy asked, tilting her head slightly.

...I don't know if she would be an awesome bartender or an awful one. I'm guessing both in equal measure.


"They are. Projectors aren't supposed to run off of black powder, after all."

:smalleek:


Lupin nodded to Derive, and the swordsage placed his hand on the hilt of his sword

Just felt a touch awkward. You also use "the swordsage" and "the catgirl" an awful lot in general; slimming down on those here and there would make things flow a little better as a whole (frequently I think you're being needlessly precise, like here, where you could just say "Lupin nodded to Derive, who placed his hand..."


"Talent, vision, and wonderful acting!" Lucy suggested with a smile.

lol.


It Who Seeks is an unmaker, an antithesis of light and sound ... it is more than darkness and silence, it is nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing but sound and light and void ..."

I was really liking this until the end, where you suddenly decide It is sound and light and void...? I thought the point was that It is elementally opposite to Light and Sound. Also, depending on what It is, "It That Seeks" is probably more correct.


"Light and sound and void ... light and sound and void ..." Frank repeated over and over, saliva dribbling down his chin.

:smalleek: That is really, really never a good sign. Start running, boys and girls.


"The void unmakes all ... but you can't know that ... I will unmake ... I will unmake the three of you!"

See, what did I tell you?

In light of the way this snippet ends, I'd like to see more description when Frank reappears, and when he starts babbling. In fact, we've never gotten any description of Frank at all, besides him being "an elderly gentleman" and apparently a carpenter. If he's going to start going off the deep end like this, I need to be able to visualize it!


@Lady Moreta
Ooh another one of these Silver/Lester scenes? Count me in!

Lester

Lord of Light could it get any worse?

It can always get worse.


Rifus is looking from Tanc, to Silver and back again

I think "back and forth between Tanc and Silver" works better to communicate an ongoing focus-switch. "X to Y and back again" doesn't imply "and then back to Y and..." in my opinion, even though that's presumably what's happening here.


– he looks almost relieved – as if he’s glad to know he’s not the only one who succumbed to this demon, and guilty for feeling relief.

I'd move the dashes around; right now your last clause doesn't really have a subject. So "– he looks almost relieved, as if he’s glad to know he’s not the only one who succumbed to this demon – and guilty for feeling relief" or something of the sort.


if-you-please

I've never seen this hyphenated before; I don't think it should be.


like she wants to ask a question but isn’t sure who she should ask, or even if she should ask.

The imagery in this opening is very good. I like how you're conveying Lester's intuition and ability to read people--just be careful with it; you don't want him knowing anything he shouldn't know. I think the earlier "guilty for feeling relief" is the closest to "too much intuition" you get here, though.


her hands pause in their frantic motions

It would be good if the frantic motions were introduced earlier; I had the impression she was kind of sitting on the floor in stunned silence.


“What was I doing?” She whispers, almost too quietly to hear.

This is great. Very, very effective.


“Before – all this…” she gestures towards the rest of the group.

I want to know what "all this" will be referring to. It's not clear what she's talking about except for "the last two minutes", or why she would be gesturing. If they're in a cave full of baby corpses that weren't there two minutes ago, I need to know! Actually, some time spent earlier on the actual setting--rather than just the characters--would help set this scene a lot better, as right now there's a lot of uncertainty that I don't think is contributing positively to the scene.


For Silver has gone white, paler than I think I’ve ever seen her before, and I have seen her dead.

I don't think the "For" is useful here; it's clear what the sentence does without it. Also, great line :smallbiggrin:


One hand reaches for the wall behind her and she curls her fingers around the rock like it’s the only thing keeping her upright.

I bolded the part I don't like. The sentiment is good, but I feel like she would have fallen if it was the only thing keeping her upright, so clearly that's not the case. Obviously it's meant to be metaphorical but I think messing with the "tense" (so to speak) of the metaphor would help place it better. A couple ideas for what I mean: she could "reach out to support herself on the wall behind" or "[curl] her fingers around the rock like she's afraid she'll lose the ability to stand without it." I'm not sure if I'm explaining this well; it's just a tiny point anyway that probably no one else will ever care about :smalltongue:


I keep my voice quiet and gentle and take a step towards her, as much as Silver detests men (and is not afraid to tell them), she looks like she needs the support.

Semicolon after "towards her", and I think the parenthetical destracts from the scene.


“No you didn’t. Telia did. The demon used you. That doesn’t make you responsible.” She stares at me with hollow eyes and I can tell she is not convinced. “Silver… She possessed you. You are not responsible for what Telia did using your body.”

I want Lester's actions here, as well. Unless he's just sort of standing helplessly not-too-close, in which case I want to know that as well :smallamused:


Of course, we knew Telia was evil at that point. And it was not long afterwards, that her true nature was revealed and she fled. After she had -- exerted control over Silver and drained her of life force… after she had spent all that time with Rifus. I suppose now I know why Telia chose these two for her attacks. Clearly prior contact has something to do with it. But now my subconscious is my conscious and I must examine the facts if we are to find a way out of this.

I'm not sure what to do with this paragraph; it's a difficult transition you're trying to make here. Partially I think it's a tense issue--you're using three tenses in one paragraph, which is... too many (see below for your requested grammar lesson! :smalltongue:) I think if you split the present-tense stuff into a new paragraph and put rest of the flashback in the same tense, it'll read better: "Of course, we had known that Telia was evil at that point. And it was not long afterward, that her true nature had been revealed, and she had fled. After she had -- exerted control over Silver and drained her of life force… after she had spent all that time with Rifus."


So is it simply Telia as the common link, or is there some other reason? Something to do with her sense of betrayal?

Strictly speaking, we are no longer in the realm of facts.


she seems to have returned to the present

She's not the only one.


her eyes are focused on me – still green,

Would they not be? Is there a history of her eyes changing colors?


I have heard little snippets

Ha ha :smalltongue:


Five. What if…? What if Telia knew something about Silver that none of us knew? What if she used that then because she knew Silver would not be able to stop herself from responding… to the idea of a daughter. And what if…?

Again, not in the realm of facts, but again it's not really an issue. This is a good tie-back into Lester's inner monologue.


If Silver can learn to be truthful, open and vulnerable – perhaps she can be freed.

… in more ways than one.

Great ending (but good luck!). Oh Silver, you lovely, messed-up girl, you.

Oh, also


Lastly, I can agree with Silver. No one likes unexpected demon babies

Demon babies? I didn't say anything about demon babies... if that's what you got out of that snippet, then I did something wrong.

I think he was referring to Telia. Not so much a baby, but...


Silver

Oh. Oh no…

I think you could go more overboard here; Silver obviously has. If it were me, I wouldn't be content with just one "no". I'd definitely get through a full paragraph of "no" before I started having more cohereng thoughts like "I'm possessed the same way Rifus was".

"Oh... Oh no. No.

"No. No, no no no no nononononono..." (or maybe "nooo..."?)

That's just how I read it, anyway.


Oh gods, it’s not happening again… not again.

Deny harder. It's denial time; it's extremes time; no reason to be rational about your writing.


I suddenly realise my hands are pawing through my things

So, I mentioned in the other one that Lester should notice that she's pawing through her things earlier. Based on this scene, I'd say she's started doing so before he asks if she's all right. Here, it's obviously perfect that she hasn't noticed until now.


Man or demon, they’re all the same…

:smalleek:


I wonder what else I can check.

Oh, very nice. This says so much.


What else has been ripped from me? Stolen? Taken against my will…

If fact it says so much that these bits seem redundant. Obviously she's not thinking coherently--but then why is she bothering to come up with new ways to say "stolen"? I think you can either trim these, or make them less different from each other--the point is that Silver is obsessing, so unless she's particularly verbose, she's unlikely to spend her time coming up with synonyms.


Yeah. I don’t believe it either.

The "yeah" I like; the rest I don't so much. It's clear that she's self-aware enough to know she's not okay; this seems a bit too explicit.


I push those bad thoughts (memories) back down where they belong and get blindsided by another thought – I am a spellcaster.

I think you could just take the second "thought" out here.


I gro- scramble for the wall behind me.

Poor screwed-up girl. :smallfrown: This is an excellent detail--both in terms of the narrative, and in terms of her obsessive self-censorship.


I refuse to believe she took- what was mine.

The dash is a little weird here. Also this whole expository monologue feels just a little long overall--not that I mind learning it from a reader's perspective, but it does seem exceptionally coherent over a long time period for someone in Silver's position. I'd expect her to get stuck on something--on Jerik (only one sentence, where Lianna/Terryn gets mentioned by name four times?); on Lianna/Terryn; on one particular moment of betrayal or a look in someone's eye... this sort of linear montage doesn't seem natural for someone freaking out so much. I expect something more like the one in the next paragraph, with one scene unraveling in slow, excruciating detail.


And the present slams back into me with the force… with the force of Tanc’s punch and that’s Lester’s voice.

Eh? Besides the bold part this is a nice transition back; is Tanc actually hitting her? That doesn't seem plausible, but I can't think of another interpretation.


I don’t know any emotion but fear “lies,” lies are the only way to protect myself “anger,” keeps me safe, keeps those who would hurt me away “these are their weapons.” weapons to keep me safe…

Took me a while to figure out what you were doing here; I think the double "fear" threw me off.


Friends... love... can defeat them.

Oh my God Lester are you for real :smalltongue: (I love it)


Even if they bleed me to death…

I can’t let go…

Again, great ending. Unless you're Silver, I guess; she's probably not so happy about it. This whole thing was very well done (from both sides). Someone needs to explain to her that her Fear has already led to Anger, but that will soon lead to Hate, and Hate... to Suffering. Oh, wait. Okay maybe we're there already. Bring out the force lightning! Unlimited Power!


@Grammar: Past Perfect

I probably won't do a whole lot of these unless people request them. Actually I'll only do them if people request them, but that said, I'll be glad to do them on request. Also I apologize if it seems needlessly pedantic; I think things like this benefit from being as explicit as possible and taking nothing for granted. Hope it helps someone!

The Past Perfect tense has one basic use: it temporally relates (implicitly or explicitly) two or more past events, to clarify the order in which things occurred. Things in the past perfect always carry a sense of completion with respect to the present tense, and frequently also with respect to the simple past tense. This tense comes up a lot snippets and other storytelling, because it allows the narrative to jump back in time without confusing the audience.

For example, picture a snippet written mainly in the simple past tense:


After surveying the battlefield that was Gettysburg below, Tordek leaped from the tower, landing with a wet crunch on the shoulders of the Goblin below.

Now, say the narrator wants to enter a flashback to indicate that Tordek often kills Goblins this way, using an example. You would clearly not want to continue with "He killed another Goblin the very same way at Helm's Deep", because you're still in the main tense of the story: your reader is now forced to assume that Tordek has left Gettysburg and arrived at the mythical stronghold of Helm's Deep, where he then jumped onto a Goblin. Nothing could be further from the truth! This is where the past perfect is used: we can show that the battle of Helm's Deep is in the past relative to the main narrative:


He had killed another Goblin the very same way at Helm's Deep.

This is the Simple Past Perfect, and now there's no ambiguity as to which even happened when. Praise Jarifus. But let's expound on this flashback--in fact, Tordek really does this sort of thing an awful lot, and in fact learned to do so when he was a kid (I like to think young Dwarves are called kids, in the same way that goats are). We can't say "In fact, he's been killing Goblins by jumping off things since the beardless age of five", because the narrative takes place in the past tense, and that sentence right there is actually the present! So instead, we use the Progressive Past Perfect to indicate a time period that continues right up to the point of reference:


In fact, Tordek had been killing Goblins by jumping off things since the beardless age of five!

Easy. Of course, it's not always so simple when you're writing: what if the main narrative is in the Present tense? Then maybe your flashbacks will only be in the Simple Past, and here's where some judgement comes in. Personally, I think that the Past Perfect should be used any time you have a completed action in the past--even if there's no simple past to compare to. This means that all flashbacks are in past perfect, unless they in turn need a sub-flashback. In that case you can use the Simple Past for the first flashback:


After surveying the battlefield that was Gettysburg below, Tordek leaps from the tower and lands with a wet crunch on the shoulders of the Goblin below. He remembers the Goblin he killed the very same way at Helm's Deep. In fact, Tordek had killed his first Goblin by jumping off something at the beardless age of five!

But I'm getting a bit off-topic, because if you're nesting flashbacks, you have a more complex storyline than I'm ready to deal with besides these contrived examples, and you should probably rearrange things to be less confusing, anyway. In essence, the Past Perfect is this: completed actions that are in the past (possibly relative to other things in the past). The Simple Past should generally only be used the way the Simple Present is--as the main tense of a narrative. So when you're writing a flashback, don't forget to put "had"s and "have"s in front of your verbs, and "had been" for continuing actions!

God damnit I had been am such a dork.




...This whole post got a bit long; I'm just going to post it without proofreading because my lunch break is about over. Hopefully I didn't say anything too stupid. Keep the great work coming, everyone!

Winds
2012-08-27, 08:52 PM
This feels a bit too forceful for Kalach. I expect the word, but more of a snyde "...I got separated. Again." than a capslocked yell.

It seemed to me that between having a forced shift to Evil, finding himself thinking of ways to keep his allies from killing him, and the things happening in the town, anger issues were appropriate. You're right, however, he does present himself more as dealing with it by snide remarks. This trait comes to the fore several times in later challenges, naturally.




Expand on this!! It's a super cool mechanic, but where did he actually "come out"? What is this nursery? Presumably it has significance...


The location is the other side of the mirror, the reflection side. The 'reflections' that Yang killed are incarnations of the characters, who are, in fact, still lying dead where they were attacked. It's a pity we didn't have resurrection abilities then, the implications would have been interesting...As for Yin's nursery...it isn't really a nursery per se, so much as a child's room. Not that Yin is a child mind you, but she is fairly childlike in demeanor. The room itself is not significant other than that it showcases Yin's personality. It was a room in the city...somewhere. Where was unclear and largely irrelevant. The 'why' of that is something that comes into play in the next snippet, and I will try harder to get that across.




Oh man I hope so. This is one of my favorite snippets in this story so far.

Always good to hear. Though, I do need to ask. Is it a favorite because the writing style is improving, or because of the content?

Dr Bwaa
2012-08-27, 10:14 PM
It seemed to me that between having a forced shift to Evil, finding himself thinking of ways to keep his allies from killing him, and the things happening in the town, anger issues were appropriate. You're right, however, he does present himself more as dealing with it by snide remarks. This trait comes to the fore several times in later challenges, naturally.

Ahh, right. Forced alignment shenanigans must be one of the hardest things to write ever. Glad I haven't tried :smalltongue:


The location is the other side of the mirror, the reflection side.

I got this impression; I was more wondering because if Yin & Yang can choose "where" people come out, that implies an entire Mirror Plane of sorts which would be really interesting to hear more about.


Where was unclear and largely irrelevant. The 'why' of that is something that comes into play in the next snippet

Got it.


Always good to hear. Though, I do need to ask. Is it a favorite because the writing style is improving, or because of the content?

In this one it's definitely both. The scene is captivating and the prose does a very good job communicating it. You may have noticed that about my only complaints were that we don't get to see more of everything--but that's a restriction imposed by character knowledge and predestined (or at least historical) plot (which are problems I'm very familiar with :smallsmile:).

Lady Moreta
2012-08-28, 02:24 AM
Winds
I liked this :smallbiggrin: I think I need to go through and read the entire series, I think I'm missing pieces of what's going on and I do so enjoy mess-with-your-head writing.


We walked into the place, and I found myself alone, and misplaced. You see, as I passed the doorway, I entered the tavern in days when it was lively and populated.

I'm a little confused by this bit... are they just passing by or actually going in? You say they walked in, but then your character is 'passing by the doorway' and entering at what appears to be the same time.


I took a seat, and a drink, and thought about what to do next. Perhaps half an hour later, I glanced up from my drink to see a woman that matched Aileph's dream-woman...for a mere instant before I found myself in the tavern as it is now.

This has me puzzling a little too, though I'm not sure I can articulate why. It's something about the "dream-woman... for a mere instant" it's hard to get a feel for exactly what's going on here.


My compatriots returned later. As far as they were concerned, I had disappeared.

Likewise here... there's just something about the 'returned later' that makes me think this person's companions were with them the whole time, except they obviously weren't, which makes it a bit jarring.


We continued our search, finding nothing until we turned back toward the docks. We saw the ocean was red, and it flooded toward us. I was carried away, again, on a wave of blood. I sat up in the town center, with no sign of what had brought my there.

Creepy. Well done. :smallsmile:


I found myself in, of all things, what looked like a young girl's nursery. The red woman was there, only...not. 'She' is a twin. It seems that either of them can grab someone from the 'true' world...but the other decides where they come out.

Yin, as she calls herself, explained this over tea. But there is much to do tomorrow, and I need sleep. More on this later.

I'm with the Doctor on this one, I want more information on what's going on here.


I'm having trouble developing a perspective for the promised Star Wars snippet. I don't want to do it from the PoV of my character specifically because it'd kinda remove from the impact of the scene, and I can't do it from the adversary's PoV because the GM didn't disclose a lot of essential information to me. The unfortunate bit is that due to circumstances that took place at the time the rest of the people (NPC and my fellow PCs) weren't able to act, which might cut from the emotional impact.

Decisions, decisions....

Sounds like the npc/other pcs would be your best bet. And don't discount the impact you can get from telling a story from the point of view of someone who can't do anything and is simply forced to watch. It can be quite emotional. I'm also sure you're up to the challenge :smallsmile:

SleepyShadow

At last, the three investigators were blessed with the dim glow from the tiny flame of the gnomish gadget.

I'd take that last part out. We already know what type of gadget it is.


Lucy held up her hand like a schoolgirl answering the teacher's question and smiled brightly. "The projectors broke."

I do like Lucy. She reminds me of me :smallbiggrin: that is very much something I would do and again it's a beautiful word-picture.


"They are. Projectors aren't supposed to run off of black powder, after all."

I don't know whether to be :smalleek: or :smallbiggrin: Sounds like Dwarves are secretly Mythbusters :smallbiggrin::smalltongue:


Derive shrugged noncommittally. "Anyway, it says here that this place used to be a hideout for a group called The Order of Light and Sound, a group that worshiped something called The Watcher from Beyond. Does that ring any bells?"

Frank shook his head. "Light and sound. Light and sound are what films are made of. It's what everything is made of. It Who Seeks is an unmaker, an antithesis of light and sound ... it is more than darkness and silence, it is nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing but sound and light and void ..."

I'm a bit confused about why we've gone from talking about something called 'The Watcher from Beyond' to 'It Who Seeks'. It sounds like Frank is explaining the contents of the book, but he's using a completely different name with absolutely no context as to why.


"Light and sound and void ... light and sound and void ..." Frank repeated over and over, saliva dribbling down his chin. "The void unmakes all ... but you can't know that ... I will unmake ... I will unmake the three of you!"

Okay... wasn't expecting that. :smalleek: Probably should've, considering, but still... well done :smallbiggrin: I agree with Dr. Bwaa though, if Frank is suddenly an antagonist, I want to know more about him and what he looks like.


So much wriiittiiiiiiiingggggg.

Hey, you re-started the thread :smalltongue:

Good thing you guys are doing it though, because I've been in a bit of a slump.


Oh yes I did :smallamused:

It's a good thing you aren't my husband - he gets slapped for making comments like that. Which he does on a daily basis.


It can always get worse.

He's a paladin... isn't tempting fate a class feature or something? :smalltongue:


I think "back and forth between Tanc and Silver" works better to communicate an ongoing focus-switch. "X to Y and back again" doesn't imply "and then back to Y and..." in my opinion, even though that's presumably what's happening here.

Good point. I think you're right.


I've never seen this hyphenated before; I don't think it should be.

I had a reason for that... gimme a minute and I'll remember what it was.

I did it because I was trying to show how he was thinking/saying the words. It was meant to be slower than 'normal', but not so slow as to warrent a 'If. You. Please' type approach. I have a hard time showing pauses in speech and knowing which puncutation to use to describe what I mean. Having re-read it though, I think you're right. It looks silly.


The imagery in this opening is very good. I like how you're conveying Lester's intuition and ability to read people--just be careful with it; you don't want him knowing anything he shouldn't know. I think the earlier "guilty for feeling relief" is the closest to "too much intuition" you get here, though.

Personally, I don't think Lester is knowing anything he wouldn't be able to figure out. He's been with this group a long time (about a year if I remember rightly) and he has the highest sense motive of any of them (save Silver herself). And as for the guilty thing, he's also just recently watched Rifus (the guilty party in question) go through exactly the same thing. Only in his case, they had to summon a deva to get rid of the demon.


It would be good if the frantic motions were introduced earlier; I had the impression she was kind of sitting on the floor in stunned silence.

Yeah, that didn't work at all did it? Oops.


I want to know what "all this" will be referring to. It's not clear what she's talking about except for "the last two minutes", or why she would be gesturing. If they're in a cave full of baby corpses that weren't there two minutes ago, I need to know! Actually, some time spent earlier on the actual setting--rather than just the characters--would help set this scene a lot better, as right now there's a lot of uncertainty that I don't think is contributing positively to the scene.

It will become clear. I have plans for writing a snippet which will take us up pretty much to this exact moment, and will explain what is going on here. The reason that there's no real description is that they're in a cave and there isn't anything around save them. But now that I say that, I realise you are, of course, completely correct. The reader still needs to know that. I was supposed to be making dinner when I was writing this and I was rushing through it a little. Can I blame it on that? :smallbiggrin:


I'm not sure if I'm explaining this well; it's just a tiny point anyway that probably no one else will ever care about :smalltongue:

You're explaining it perfectly well, you're nitpicking (:smalltongue:) but I'm used to that... and you've got a point too.


Semicolon after "towards her", and I think the parenthetical destracts from the scene.

This was another "I don't know what puncutation to use here" moment. I don't like using parentheses in internal monologue/first-person narration. I don't think it fits, but I wasn't sure how else to write it. It's meant to be a side-thought to his current thoughts and I wasn't sure how to write it. Plus, I didn't want to over-use hyphens, which I felt I was in danger of doing.


I'm not sure what to do with this paragraph; it's a difficult transition you're trying to make here. Partially I think it's a tense issue--you're using three tenses in one paragraph, which is... too many (see below for your requested grammar lesson! :smalltongue:) I think if you split the present-tense stuff into a new paragraph and put rest of the flashback in the same tense, it'll read better: "Of course, we had known that Telia was evil at that point. And it was not long afterward, that her true nature had been revealed, and she had fled. After she had -- exerted control over Silver and drained her of life force… after she had spent all that time with Rifus."

Rewrite it 'cause it's crappy? I reread it myself and I was finding that I was getting confused about what was going on or had gone on and I wrote the damn thing! I know what's going on and what had gone on and I was still confused.


Strictly speaking, we are no longer in the realm of facts.

Shush :smalltongue: They are facts in that they are 'things Lester knows' (or at least, is pretty darn sure he knows)


Would they not be? Is there a history of her eyes changing colors?

Noooooo....


Ha ha :smalltongue:

I freely admit, the 'snippets' thing was totally deliberate.


Silver


I think you could go more overboard here; Silver obviously has. If it were me, I wouldn't be content with just one "no". I'd definitely get through a full paragraph of "no" before I started having more cohereng thoughts like "I'm possessed the same way Rifus was".

"Oh... Oh no. No.

"No. No, no no no no nononononono..." (or maybe "nooo..."?)

I see what you mean... I just have a passionate hatred for the repeated 'no' thing. I find it looks messy and I just don't like doing it. But you do have a point. I think at this point she was just kind of in shock and slack-jawed essentially. The panic kicks in later.


Deny harder. It's denial time; it's extremes time; no reason to be rational about your writing.

How?


the point is that Silver is obsessing, so unless she's particularly verbose, she's unlikely to spend her time coming up with synonyms.

Silver's not, but I am? :smallredface: seriously, I can't hold to a word limit if my life depends on it.


The dash is a little weird here.

The dash is meant to be another example of self-censorship. She was going to say something else (specifically mention the child in this case) but stopped herself. I think I needed to take that sentence further before cutting her off.


this sort of linear montage doesn't seem natural for someone freaking out so much. I expect something more like the one in the next paragraph, with one scene unraveling in slow, excruciating detail.

Yeah, okay, you can have that one.


Eh? Besides the bold part this is a nice transition back; is Tanc actually hitting her? That doesn't seem plausible, but I can't think of another interpretation.

Of course not! Tanc is a gentleman :smalltongue: She was searching for an appropriate metaphor and that's the one she settled on. I think it needs to be clearer that she's kind of mentally wondering aloud.


Oh my God Lester are you for real :smalltongue: (I love it)

In my defense, I didn't write that! My husband did. He's the DM for this game and he came up with the idea of forcing Silver to be honest and vulnerable as a way to drive the demon out - it was going to be Lester's 11th hour desperate attempt to fix things (because they can't summon a deva again and they don't have time to do anything else). I asked him what Lester was going to say to begin the 'Silver you have to be honest' conversation. Everything Lester says from "Silver, listen to me..." to the end was actually written by him.


God damnit I had been am such a dork.


Yeah, you really are :smalltongue: Doesn't necessarily follow that's a bad thing though.

Dr Bwaa
2012-08-28, 09:52 AM
@Lady Moreta

He's a paladin... isn't tempting fate a class feature or something? :smalltongue:

It's their best class feature :smallbiggrin: Well, possibly second-best, next to Fight Evil.


Personally, I don't think Lester is knowing anything he wouldn't be able to figure out.

Oh, I agree. I didn't mean to imply that he had more information than he should, here. I just felt like any more Sensing of Motives would have been too much.


I just have a passionate hatred for the repeated 'no' thing.

Yeah, I have to say I'm not the biggest fan of that particular thing either, but I felt like it was excusable here just because I felt like I needed something more before real thoughts kicked in.




Oh gods, it’s not happening again… not again.

Deny harder. It's denial time; it's extremes time; no reason to be rational about your writing.

How?

I was referring to the "not" that I inserted (in bold), although I realize that that wasn't obvious at all. I just think it's more cohesive if she's denying what's going on consistently (at least at that moment) rather than admitting it and then denying it.


She was going to say something else (specifically mention the child in this case) but stopped herself.

I did get that; I think it's more the dash itself that bothers me. It works earlier when she literally cuts herself off mid-word, but here I think I'd prefer an ellipsis. I think the sentence itself is okay.


Of course not! Tanc is a gentleman :smalltongue:

Glad to know my impressions of Tanc over your last however-many snippets haven't been totally off-base then!


Everything Lester says from "Silver, listen to me..." to the end

Paladins are so hilariously Power of Friendship // Evildoers Must Die it makes my eyes bleed. They are my favorites, and I love that Lester is such a big part of your campaign because I love reading him. There's a scene in my long campaign where we throw a great moral-quandary at Charlize's paladin-older-brother (execute your sister (sole living family member) and all her friends on the spot for being heretics, or allow them to escape). I'm looking forward so much to writing it. Actually every time that character shows up, OOC hilarity at the expense of Paladins ensues.


grammar

Was this helpful? Comments on anything I could do to make it better?


That word is stupidly hard to spell.

Apostrophe :smallbiggrin:

SleepyShadow
2012-08-28, 02:26 PM
@Dr Bwaa:
I was really liking this until the end, where you suddenly decide It is sound and light and void...? I thought the point was that It is elementally opposite to Light and Sound. Also, depending on what It is, "It That Seeks" is probably more correct.

Frank is crazy (and I was making up his dialogue on the spot at the time), so don't bother critiquing his grammar too much. Besides, I'm pretty sure that Yog-Sothoth can be whatever he/she/it/cat wants to be :smallbiggrin:

@Lady Moreta:
Sounds like Dwarves are secretly Mythbusters

They weren't until now :smalltongue:


I'm a bit confused about why we've gone from talking about something called 'The Watcher from Beyond' to 'It Who Seeks'. It sounds like Frank is explaining the contents of the book, but he's using a completely different name with absolutely no context as to why.

*shrugs* At the time, I was about as confused as you are. The adventure I was running gave me very little to work with. It never explained to me why Frank referred to Yog-Sothoth by those names, or indeed why an old cultist was now a carpenter. I was just using what little it gave me and making up the rest as I went along.


Anyway, moving right along ...


"I Thought Monks Sucked"
Lupin quickly drew his pistol and aimed it at Frank's chest. "Don't make me do it, Frank. Just calm down."

Frank drew in a long breath, seeming to compose himself. He wiped the dribble from his wrinkled face and slicked back his long grey hair. He removed the long black overcoat he wore, revealing the long white shirt and loose black trousers he wore. His soft black shoes slid gracefully along the dusty stone floor as he eased into a fighting stance, though he bore no weapons.

"I am calm," the old man said firmly. "It is my duty to protect this sacred place from intruders such as you. Come at me with all your might."

Lupin fired his pistol, the sharp noise reverberating throughout the room. However, Frank was already on the move, effortlessly stepping to the side before the halfling shot. Lucy quickly fired her bow, but the old man swept his hand through the air, shattering the arrow before it could reach him.

"Stupid old man," Derive snorted, "don't you know that you've been outdated?"

He struck with his short sword, the blade bursting into flame as he attacked, Frank narrowly avoided Derive's thrust, and he counterattacked with blinding speed, hammering his knee into the young man's stomach. Derive staggered backward, the wind knocked out of him. Frank pressed the advantage and spun through the air as he slammed his heel into the side of Derive's head. The young man flew across the room and smashed into the wall, then slumped to the floor.

"I find your lack of faith in monks disturbing," Frank chuckled darkly.

"Dodge this, old man," Lupin growled.

A bolt of brilliant blue energy flew from the halfling's fingertips and flew unerringly toward Frank, exploding as it struck the old man in the chest. He stepped backward from Lupin, eyeing the gunmage warily.

"Your powers are weak," Frank said calmly.

Lucy fired another arrow at Frank, but the old man swatted the arrow out of the air without taking his eyes off of Lupin.

"No fair!" Lucy shouted, stomping her foot.

Frank leaped through the air, his gray hair fluttering behind him like the tail of a comet. He smashed his foot into Lupin's ribs with a sickening crack. Clutching at his chest with his free hand, Lupin whipped his pistol up and fired, but Frank smacked his arm away, causing the shot to fly wildly across the room. Before the halfling could react, the old man grabbed him by the throat, picked him up off his feet, and slammed his head into the floor. Lupin lay very still, blood trickling out his nose and mouth.

Lucy took a panicked step away from Frank and fired her bow at his back. The arrow merely grazed his shoulder. The old man turned slowly to face the cat girl, his eyes filled with grim determination.

"I have you now," Frank smirked.

The old man hurtled through the air like a gray projectile, but Lucy proved faster and rolled out of the path of his attack. She landed on her feet and nimbly sprang into the air, firing her bow once more. Frank caught the arrow just before it could strike his head. He sprang into the air to meet Lucy, but the nimble cat girl kicked off from the ceiling, hurtling to the ground to avoid the old man's kick. She landed on the back of a chair as Frank came to rest atop the rotting chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

"You are strong, young one," he admitted, "but your fight ends here."

"Not yet," Lucy said as she fired her bow one last time.

The arrow struck above Frank's head, severing the rope that held the chandelier aloft. The old man cried out in alarm as the heavy fixture came crashing to the ground and burst asunder as it slammed into the cold stone floor. Lucy sighed in relief and slid down into the chair once she saw that Frank lay very still atop the ruined chandelier.

Dr Bwaa
2012-08-28, 03:25 PM
@SleepyShadow

He removed the long black overcoat he wore, revealing the long white shirt and loose black trousers he wore.

This takes a really long time (considering the situation). What is the party doing while Frank disrobes? Just standing around awkwardly, depite pointing a gun at him?


"I find your lack of faith in monks disturbing," Frank chuckled darkly.

LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL


"Dodge this, old man," Lupin growled.

Hurr hurr the meeeeeeeeeemes.


He stepped backward from Lupin, eyeing the gunmage warily.

"Your powers are weak," Frank said calmly.

This is strange. Why would he be eyeing Lupin warily if his powers are so weak? I'd expect his expression to be one of amusement, or maybe ironic disappointment.


Lucy fired another arrow at Frank, but the old man swatted the arrow out of the air without taking his eyes off of Lupin.

Good moment. This does make it seem like he considers Lupin a viable threat after all? If that's the case, I'd adjust the "Your powers are weak" line to reflect the fact that he doesn't actually think Lupin is irrelevant, even if that's only revealed to the readers.


"No fair!" Lucy shouted, stomping her foot.

Love it.


the old man grabbed him by the throat, picked him up off his feet, and slammed his head into the floor.

I think the manner in which he must have flipped Lupin over probably deserves a description, because it has the potential to be really badass (grab him by the threat --> whip him in a big arc over his head and facefirst into the ground on the other side?).


"I have you now," Frank smirked.

Obviously :smalltongue: I'd kind of like his outfit to be more vader-esque (trying to think of a helmet/mask-analogue here) just to complete the picture.

Also, he's gotta be someone's father at this point.

...I wonder if Profession(Bartender) will be useful when it comes to stabilizing her dying party members! :smallbiggrin: :smalleek:


EDIT: also, have you noticed that you have an almost perfect record of alternating your chapter titles between quotes and non-quotes? I have, because I'm the nerd keeping track of the compendium :smalltongue:

Winds
2012-08-28, 08:33 PM
...
...

:mad:



Right...as usual, the next snippet will continue the story from my/Kalach's point of view once I have have polished it to my specifications. Perhaps sometime tomorrow.

Lady Moreta
2012-08-28, 10:48 PM
Dr Bwaa

I did get that; I think it's more the dash itself that bothers me. It works earlier when she literally cuts herself off mid-word, but here I think I'd prefer an ellipsis. I think the sentence itself is okay.

Good point. I think you're right about the ellipsis working better...


Glad to know my impressions of Tanc over your last however-many snippets haven't been totally off-base then!

He'd never hit a girl. Unless she's a succubus.

Or she really really deserved it :smalltongue: (Tanc is Lawful Good, but he's lawful to his own set of morals)


Paladins are so hilariously Power of Friendship // Evildoers Must Die it makes my eyes bleed. They are my favorites, and I love that Lester is such a big part of your campaign because I love reading him. There's a scene in my long campaign where we throw a great moral-quandary at Charlize's paladin-older-brother (execute your sister (sole living family member) and all her friends on the spot for being heretics, or allow them to escape). I'm looking forward so much to writing it. Actually every time that character shows up, OOC hilarity at the expense of Paladins ensues.

Ooh, I look forward to that :smallbiggrin:

We're all very fond of Lester - and he's loosened up a lot since he started travelling with us. None of us were very happy about the fact that he did the 'evildoers must die' thing and smashed the (admittedly evil) black sphere that was summoning Shadows and got us stuck on the Shadow Plane for three months. He started loosening up not long after that. It's to the point that even though Nera hates Lester, Nera's player has frequently said how much she personally loves him.


Was this helpful? Comments on anything I could do to make it better?

It was, yes. Thanks :smallsmile:


Apostrophe :smallbiggrin:

Oh hush :smalltongue: I can actually spell that, I just had a broken moment.

SleepyShadow

Frank drew in a long breath, seeming to compose himself. He wiped the dribble from his wrinkled face and slicked back his long grey hair. He removed the long black overcoat he wore, revealing the long white shirt and loose black trousers he wore.

I quite like this transformation from dribbly old (and harmless) carpenter to 'I'm about to kick your ass' mode. Though I'd take out the second 'he wore' and replace it with 'underneath' - we know he's wearing them after all :smalltongue:


Lupin fired his pistol, the sharp noise reverberating throughout the room. However, Frank was already on the move, effortlessly stepping to the side before the halfling shot.

The action here doesn't quite flow properly to my mind. You've got Lupin firing, and then all of a sudden we find out Frank moved before Lupin got the shot off. I think the dodging and the firing need to happen at the same time (it's not like a monk isn't capable of doing exactly that).


He struck with his short sword, the blade bursting into flame as he attacked, Frank narrowly avoided Derive's thrust, and he counterattacked with blinding speed, hammering his knee into the young man's stomach. Derive staggered backward, the wind knocked out of him. Frank pressed the advantage and spun through the air as he slammed his heel into the side of Derive's head. The young man flew across the room and smashed into the wall, then slumped to the floor.

I liked this part. A lot :smallsmile: It's consice, you used good descriptive words and we get to see very clearly just what Frank is capable of.


"I find your lack of faith in monks disturbing," Frank chuckled darkly.

:biggrin::biggrin::biggrin::biggrin::biggrin:

I love me a Star Wars reference. Bonus points for this one.


"No fair!" Lucy shouted, stomping her foot.

I love Lucy... she's so adorable :smallsmile: and this is perfectly in character for her.


Frank leaped through the air, his gray hair fluttering behind him like the tail of a comet.

That's... an interesting image... I like it, and I can easily picture it in my mind, having seen pictures of comet tails before. I'm just not sure it works here. It's a bit - poetic.


Lucy took a panicked step away from Frank and fired her bow at his back.

This is just making me think that she's literally firing her bow (rather than an arrow) at his back. Especially as you then say that the arrow grazed him. I know 'firing a bow' is the normal way to describe such an action and as far as I know it's correct... I would just - have written it another way in this instance.


The old man hurtled through the air like a gray projectile, but Lucy proved faster and rolled out of the path of his attack. She landed on her feet and nimbly sprang into the air, firing her bow once more. Frank caught the arrow just before it could strike his head. He sprang into the air to meet Lucy, but the nimble cat girl kicked off from the ceiling, hurtling to the ground to avoid the old man's kick. She landed on the back of a chair as Frank came to rest atop the rotting chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Is Lucy firing her bow while she's in midair? That's quite a neat trick? if so, it needs to be clearer that's what's happening. It kind of reads now that she jumped into the air for no reason, then fired when she landed again. And for that matter - Frank jumping into the air to meet Lucy - there's a timing problem with this. It reads like Lucy jumped, then Frank jumped and Lucy was just hanging suspended in midair for a while waiting for him to join her. Obviously, that's not what happened... the action needs to move not faster, just - more together.

Shoot, I'm not making any sense am I? It feels like there's a lot of time between each person's actions. I think it needs to be written in such a way as to remove that illusion.


The arrow struck above Frank's head, severing the rope that held the chandelier aloft. The old man cried out in alarm as the heavy fixture came crashing to the ground and burst asunder as it slammed into the cold stone floor. Lucy sighed in relief and slid down into the chair once she saw that Frank lay very still atop the ruined chandelier

Teehee, sucks to be Frank. Though I find myself wondering, if he's been so quick to avoid everything thus far, why did he get caught by surprise by this action? Not that he couldn't have been, I'd just like to see more of an explanation for it.


Also, he's gotta be someone's father at this point.

Yes please! :smallbiggrin:

In the meantime, have some backstory for a new character I've just started playing. This is my first foray into the Shadowrun setting, so some of the minor details might not match up properly. Also, be warned, I had a vague idea of where this one was meant to go and then it ran away and went somewhere else entirely. Contains mention of a sensitive topic. You have been warned.

Leonora's Backstory
Don’t you judge me, for judgement belongs to God alone. Just remember – we aren’t all sinless.

I was born March 3, 2049, daughter of Alvaro Calderón Vélez and Jenny Carter. Illegitimate, unwanted, and SINless. In fact, the only thing I had going for me, right from birth, was my twin brother – Lukas. Even when we were kids, right up to the point our parents kicked us out – he looked after me, protected me. I’ve heard the snide comments, seen the sly looks, ignored the innuendo – when people hear that I live in an apartment with my brother… If you’d lived the life I’ve lived, knowing your brother was the only person you could rely on, could trust… the only person who loved you… Well, you wouldn’t be so quick to laugh.

Growing up was – different. And difficult. Different and difficult. Because most families consist of parents who love each other and love their children. Who want their children. And because that was harder than you might think. They weren’t neglectful, they weren’t abusive, they were simply – uninterested. We always had food, but once Lukas and I were old enough to feed ourselves – that’s what we did. It was either that or go hungry. Love – parental love – was in short supply in that house.

And yet, it wasn’t so bad. I wasn’t alone, I had my brother. I think our parents’ indifference is the reason Lukas and I are so close. When it’s you and him against the world, you get close fast. And you stay that way. Our parents were SINners – and I only know that because Mom told me once in a drunken ramble, after a visit from someone I later found out was my maternal grandmother. I don’t know how she found us, and I don’t really care. I learned two lessons from that visit. The first – I can’t live without my brother. The second – if we wanted to stay together, we had to at least look like a happy family. I was five years old.

Apparently Grandmother Carter (and yes, I know Carter wasn’t my mother’s real name, but it was the only name I had, so I used it. I was five.) noticed that we didn’t seem as happy and healthy as perhaps we might have. I can’t imagine why – it’s not like we weren’t wearing clothes two sizes too small. Mother and Father had been a clichéd forbidden love, determined to throw off the parental bonds and marry anyway. I can only assume this is how they ended up living in a too-small apartment under fake SINs. Grandmother Carter though, had a soft spot. Kids. And she was canny, I’ll give her that. The old broad took one look at Luka and me and knew something wasn’t right. So she threatened to take us away, split us up – unless our parents got their act together. Alvaro and Jenny didn’t care. Lukas and I did.

I never saw Grandmother Carter again, but I’ve never been one to take chances. We made a promise that day, Luka and I. A promise that we’d look out for each other, look after each other. That we’d never leave each other. And if I one day broke that promise – just remember – all of us here are SINless, but as I said earlier, none of us are sinless.

And we stuck together for years. I made sure we ate and Lukas made sure we had clothes that fit and shoes that had soles. I scrounged us an education – as best I could; and Lukas scrounged us protection – as best he could. He was eight the first time he got into a fight to protect me, 14 the first time he used a knife, and 16 the first time he shot a man – again, to protect me.

He wasn’t the only precocious member of our little family. I believe I was seven the first time I realised big eyes and a shy smile could divert suspicion. I was 13 the first time I got us out of trouble with a flirty smile and a suggestive pose. I was 15 when I found that words alone could defuse a situation and save a life. And I was just in time, because it was when we turned 16 our parents decided they’d finally had enough and we were old enough to fend for ourselves – and they kicked us out of home. We did okay. Lukas was well on his way to being the biggest guy on the block and I was already notorious for being someone you didn’t want to cross if it wasn’t your fault, it would be by the time I was done talking.

At 17, I learned what a valuable commodity negotiation was, and I learned to use it. I would talk, cheat, swindle and broker my way through deals. I became proficient – or semi-proficient in as many languages as I could find someone to teach me. It was all for the benefit of others, but ultimately, it was for the benefit of me and my brother. The more nuyen we could get, the better off we’d be. And that, ultimately, is how I ended up there.

At 18, I learned that there is one thing a pretty girl has that is more valuable than her ability to broker a deal or arrange a truce. And at 19, I learned it was a price I was willing to pay. For Lukas. Always for Lukas.

We were careful with our nuyen. Saved it, hoarded it, kept it safe – so we could get off the streets. Then a new gang moved into our area. And of course, our gangs started screaming bloody murder, foul play, and no fair. So the new lot agreed to negotiate, why I don’t know, since they could easily have wiped out our gangs and simply set up shop unhindered. But of course, they demanded a neutral negotiator – and all that effort I’d put in to stay out of gangs came back to bite me in the ass. I knew Luka had done some work here and there for the gangs in our area. He’d done everything from club bouncer, to bully-boy, to warehouse heavy lifting – and I was known to most of them. So when the newcomers said they wanted an unaffiliated mediator, all eyes turned to me. And times were hard and we needed the money (desperately needed the money), so I said yes.

It just so happened, that the leader of this new gang was Spanish – or something close to it. And he took one look at me, with my dark hair and dark eyes and obvious Latina heritage – and he never looked back. I did my best, but my Spanish wasn’t so good in those days and I had a hard time keeping up. Eventually though, everything was settled to his satisfaction – and I began to understand. He didn’t use force if he could get what he wanted by other means. I only wish I’d realised that didn’t mean he wouldn’t use force.

A week after the turf deal was done, he sent Marco Salmeri to our little corner of home. His boss had been impressed by me, by my looks and my obvious skill at negotiation. He wanted to make me an offer to come and work for him. He’d love to see what other talents I possessed. I’m not a complete idiot, I knew what he was asking. So I did was any self-respecting Catholic girl would do… I told him to take his offer and stick it where the sun don’t shine. And Marco left, looking unhappy, and as I stood in our doorway, arm wrapped around Lukas’s waist, and his heavy arm over my shoulder – I wondered why he looked so worried. It didn’t take long to find out.

Nothing happened for two weeks, we had almost enough nuyen to pay for an apartment, and we’d both forgotten about Marco and his lascivious boss. Then I learned why the patient ones are always the worst. One of the smaller gangs still eking out an existence in the neighbourhood came to Luka. They had a shipment to move and would he please help them out. They were buddies, so Luka said yes. Five hours later, Este near pounded the door down. His head was dripping blood and his hand was wrapped in a blood-soaked and dirty rag – masquerading as a bandage. He was the sole survivor – they were all dead. Except Lukas. Este was distraught and kept switching languages, but I finally got the point.

The whole thing had been a trap. Everyone killed, but Lukas was taken. Everyone dead, but Este left alive – as a messenger. And at 19, I learned patience could be terrifying; patience could kill; and patience could save a life.

I read between lines I doubt Este even knew were there. Wait. Be patient. Someone will come to you.

So I wasn’t all that surprised when Marco Salmeri knocked on our door a week after the attack. And I wasn’t surprised by the offer he gave me. I went with him, went willingly to his boss – and Luka would go free. I refused, my big brother would be killed and – once I had no protector any more, Marco and his boys would be back. No much of a choice after all.

I’d always known I loved my brother, more than anyone. I’d always known that his needs came before anyone else’s, mine included. And I’d always known I couldn’t live without him. When I was 19, I learned I was going to have to learn how. And I learned the price I was willing to pay to keep him alive. Myself.

Myself. My spirit, my soul. My immortal essence. That part of me I had faith would one day join with the angels and see the face of God. Not any more. I was pretty sure what I was about to do meant I’d never see heaven – or purgatory. Nope – straight to hell for sinners like me.

And the hardest part about the whole thing was that look on Luka’s face when they brought him out of the van I’d not noticed and let him go. I never thought a single look could cause so much pain. Lukas looked awful, he’d been beaten, had rudimentary bandages around his head, arm and leg – and those were only the ones I could see. To this day I’ve not been able to work up the nerve to ask him what they did to him. But it was the look on his swollen, bruised, beaten-up face that hurt the worst. Hurt, horror, betrayal. Failure and guilt. Nobody knows guilt like a Catholic, and Lukas had it in spades. His purpose in life was to protect me and he’d failed. And now he had to live with the guilt.

I couldn’t look at him after that. I closed my eyes; turned away and let Marco put his arm around me and led me to the van. By the time I turned back to look, Lukas was gone. It was the last time I saw him for over a year.

At 19, I learned there was no price I wouldn’t pay if it meant my brother would be safe. At 20, I learned that some debts can be paid in full. Oddly enough, it was Marco Salmeri who taught me that. Marco and a Native American shaman named Ayelen.

I needn’t tell you what went on during that year, right? I belonged exclusively to him which gave me a measure of protection, especially as he liked to keep my ‘hide’ intact for negotiation and mediation. But I was also a prize, a reward, for those who had pleased him. And they were not always so gentle. Suffice to say, during that year, I learned that virtue is cheap and purity is not the priceless gift the priests would have us believe. Oh, and I learned that it really is easier if you just relax.

Ayelen had been called in because his first lieutenant was sick. I didn’t know, or care, what caused it – poison, toxin or regular bug – but conventional medicine wasn’t working. He demanded more drastic measures and apparently, that meant a Native American shaman with a reverence bordering on obsession for the sanctity of life. Oh, and she was also trying to survive in the city, and that means nuyen.

But who am I to judge?

Ayelen told me later that she saw hovering in the shadows the same spirit who guided her – the Dog – loyal and defensive – and that is why she acted as she did. Immediately, she informed him that she required help and that I had steady hands, a calm manner, and was clearly not needed for anything else. I will never forget the secretive smile she gave me once he left us alone in the room. She whispered a few words in her native tongue, then looked, not at me, but at a spot just to one side of me. I automatically followed her eyes – and there was a Dog – looking just like the floppy-eared spaniel puppy who’d lived down the street when Luka and I were kids. Ayelen just smiled at me, told me I too was a Dog, and bent down over the sick man. Then she said, in a voice so soft I barely heard her, “Puppy, don’t you think the debt has been paid?”

I didn’t have to be a genius to figure out what she meant.

I know what you’re thinking – how could Ayelen possibly have had enough influence to get me out of there? Truth is – she didn’t. But there is usually a way to get things done – if you look hard enough. And in this instance, she didn’t have to look far. Marco Salmeri. Marco who hadn’t been able to look me in the eye since I’d arrived. Marco who refused to speak to me unless I spoke to him first. Marco who had indirectly been responsible for separating me from my brother. Marco who clearly felt as guilty as sin.

The funny thing is – I didn’t even blame him. Much.

Ayelen and Marco refused to tell me what their plan was – and since what I didn’t know, I couldn’t divulge, I didn’t argue – I was simply told to be ready to move. You’re probably expecting some exciting tail of sneaking and running and shooting, but truth to tell, it was remarkably boring – even anticlimactic. Marco forged some orders that got me past the guards. Ayelen kept him distracted and we simply snuck out. Marco delivered me straight to Este, with a warning to get the hell out of the neighbourhood – like I needed to be told. Este was to take me to Lukas – except he couldn’t look me in the eye either. Apparently everyone was harbouring some degree of guilt over this one. That is, until I caught him glancing at the crucifix I was still stubbornly wearing. Then I realised why Este wouldn’t look at me – he knew what happened to girl like me when they came to the attention of gang bosses like him – and he knew I didn’t deserve to wear that emblem any more. As long as he kept his mouth shut and didn’t tell Lukas, I didn’t really care what he thought it wasn’t like we were going to be hanging around.

As you might expect – I forgot all that the moment I saw Luka again. He was standing outside some run-down hovel, next to a massive Harley-Davidson I’d never seen before. None of which I cared about, not when the big brother I’d sacrificed everything for was standing there – alive. I saw relief mixed with fury on his face – and in that instant, even as I ran forward and threw myself into his arms – I vowed that I would never tell him the truth. If I’d thought he was over-protective before – that would be nothing compared to what he’d do if he’d found out the truth. And I knew there would be no second chances from him. So to keep my brother alive, I lied to him. Even as he swung me onto his Harley and nodded his thanks to Este, I promised myself that I would never tell him I was no longer the innocent, virtuous little sister he remembered.

That was – oh, three years ago now. Things moved pretty fast after we ran. The Dog spirit lead me straight back to Ayelen. From her I learned some measure of peace – and the crucifix I could no longer stand to wear, but couldn’t bring myself to get rid of, became part of my first magical focus.

I was restless – as you might expect, coming out of a year of bondage. I tried my hand at climbing the corporate ladder – hated it, but it got me some useful contacts. Saved the life of an idiotic Lone Star cop, got drunk a lot, had the tables turned when someone tried to use me to get to my brother. And now I have to spend half my time trying to convince Lukas he doesn’t have to resort to performance-enhancing drugs every time I someone takes a shot at me. Yes, I am exaggerating. But not by much.

I still see Ayelen as often as I can – and she continues to call me ‘Puppy’. I stay in touch with Marco – he’s too scared of him to do much, but he lets me know where the gang is, what they’re up to, what areas to avoid. I even stayed for a time with an old Catholic priest – of course, I’d been shot in the stomach and I was delirious with fever the entire time – but I returned later to thank him.

I’m 23 now, and I’ve lived more life than most. I’ve seen the best and the worst. I’ve tried living in the light of the megas and I hated it. By nature and by nurture, I belong in the shadows.

I have learned that to run in the shadows is better than walking in the light. I have learned that there is nothing I won’t do for my brother.

And strangely – I have learned that I am content.

Can the same be said for you?

SleepyShadow
2012-08-29, 03:17 PM
@Dr Bwaa: Just to be spiteful, I need to change the titles' pattern :smalltongue:


Also, he's gotta be someone's father at this point.

"Lucy, I am your father!"

"Is that good?"

":smallmad:"

@Lady Moreta:
Is Lucy firing her bow while she's in midair?

Yes, she is. I suppose I should have clarified that.


It reads like Lucy jumped, then Frank jumped and Lucy was just hanging suspended in midair for a while waiting for him to join her. Obviously, that's not what happened...

Actually, that's exactly what happened. Since one of the rule books we are using is Big Eyes Small Mouths d20 (an anime game), no one saw any issue with DBZ style midair floating or other ridiculously awesome over-the-top combat maneuvers. Besides, she had the Hover ability at rank 1, so it even worked by RAW.


Though I find myself wondering, if he's been so quick to avoid everything thus far, why did he get caught by surprise by this action?

... I fumbled his Reflex save.

Winds
2012-08-29, 06:24 PM
I just love how they talked about how weak the monk is, then engaged him in exactly the manner monks are good at fending off...


So, on the subject of aberrant locations...


The Game



The tower is on this side of the mirror...as are 'we'. Or we were. Now our mirror-selves corpses are scattered about. The red woman did, in fact, kill us.

Yin and her 'sister', Yang, were once one being known as a mirror monster. They were empowered and split to serve as the guardian. Yin is mostly curious about people and would like to be at peace with them. Yang, however, retained the love of murder, and is likely powerful enough to slay us all in a straight fight.

She is also becoming impatient. Yin managed to intercept Kol and Aileph, but their being here means Yang is ready to 'play'.

I tried to convince Yang to leave the kid gloves on, but she 'prefers to break her toys'. Make the guardian half maniacal murder-child, and half blinkered innocent. Wonderful idea.

In the end, we settled on a 'game'. Yang will spend three days and nights hunting us through the mirror side of the city. If we survived that long, she will agree to open the tower door. She will do her best to kill us. This is complicated for several reasons. One, half the city belongs to her outright. Two, she needs no rest. Three, she knows the location of anyone in the city, even in Yin's territory. Note to self: Try to avoid fighting beings on their own demesne next time...

So we ran. Kol's sharp eyes are the only reason we lived: he saw the doors. Each day, one door in the city was white, with a black dot marked upon it. Yin's room, where she got her turn with the 'toys'. We acted out parts of books she liked. One called 'Through the Looking-Glass', mostly. More amusingly, the paladin summoned his celestial steed...to play a part we were missing...

I'm no expert on horse expressions, but I doubt he was amused.

So it went. Each day, we found the door, did whatever Yin wanted to do, then sleep. Yang would then serve as our murderous wake-up call. This only worked in her favor on the third day...days one and two, we had enough warning to run for it, but the third day she kicked in the door. It hit me in the face. I did try fighting her, but my shots didn't really do anything.

Finally, we got though it. Yin and Yang opened the door, and in we went.

The door closed behind us, we went down on the moving platform...and at the bottom, the paladin cast his gaze on me. My own magic senses told me he had done so, right before he started yelling...

“I was right! Explain yourself, warlock. Now.”

“Well. I haven't actually done anything evil, so I'm not sure what you see. But suffice it to say I'm on your side.”

That got him thinking. And checking that headpiece thing. He said lately it could inform you what your patron deity would think of a given course of action. Eventually, he did make up his mind...

“Helm is a patient god. For as long as you're on our side, I will say nothing of it. Transgress, and I will smite you.”

“Fine. Let's get moving...”

Of course, that wasn't the last surprise of the day. That would be the girl who came in after us, claiming to have talked Yang into letting her pass.

I don't believe it...But she's a half-celestial, and a nauseatingly innocent example of the breed, at that. But she wants the chance to heal others, and we're likely to need the help.

The moment the paladin finds out about whatever happened to me, a half-celestial shows up.

How annoying.

Lady Moreta
2012-08-29, 08:05 PM
Actually, that's exactly what happened. Since one of the rule books we are using is Big Eyes Small Mouths d20 (an anime game), no one saw any issue with DBZ style midair floating or other ridiculously awesome over-the-top combat maneuvers. Besides, she had the Hover ability at rank 1, so it even worked by RAW.

Okay then :smallsmile: that'll serve me right for assuming everyone is using the same rulebooks


... I fumbled his Reflex save.

That's what I figured had happened :smalltongue: I just wanted some in-character fluff for it :smallsmile:

Winds

Yin and her 'sister', Yang, were once one being known as a mirror monster.

You're missing a word or two in this sentence... okay, I take it back, no you're not. I appear to have misread it the first time.


I tried to convince Yang to leave the kid gloves on, but she 'prefers to break her toys'. Make the guardian half maniacal murder-child, and half blinkered innocent. Wonderful idea.

Heehee :smallbiggrin: I love this part. I love your character's dry sense of humour.


Note to self: Try to avoid fighting beings on their own demesne next time...[/quote\]

Good advice that :smallsmile:

[quote]One called 'Through the Looking-Glass', mostly.

:biggrin: Love it.

I'm no expert on horse expressions, but I doubt he was amused.


Finally, we got though it. Yin and Yang opened the door, and in we went.

I think you mean 'through' it. Also, I want to know more about this fight. You were so worried earlier about how hard Yang would be to beat and that she could take you in a straight fight, and then when she finally catches up - nothing happens. You mention there's a fight and then all of a sudden 'hey we're all done!'


The door closed behind us, we went down on the moving platform...

I need more detail here. I can't picture this in my mind and it detracts from what follows because I'm still stuck trying to set the scene.


and at the bottom, the paladin cast his gaze on me. My own magic senses told me he had done so, right before he started yelling...

“I was right! Explain yourself, warlock. Now.”

I'm going to assume there's backstory I'm missing here, because I haven't read previous snippets - but this is a bit of a non seqitur. It just comes randomly out of nowhere. Why is the paladin detecting evil on you (I assume that's what he's doing)? What made him suddenly decide to do it? Even if this is referencing something in the past, I need a bit more detail for it to really make sense in context.


That got him thinking. And checking that headpiece thing. He said lately it could inform you what your patron deity would think of a given course of action. Eventually, he did make up his mind...

Hey! I know that phylactery! (Phylactery of Faithfulness right? The warlock in my game has one)


Of course, that wasn't the last surprise of the day. That would be the girl who came in after us, claiming to have talked Yang into letting her pass.

I don't believe it...But she's a half-celestial, and a nauseatingly innocent example of the breed, at that. But she wants the chance to heal others, and we're likely to need the help.

I feel like this needs a bit more context as well, but I'm not sure exactly how one would go about providing it.


The moment the paladin finds out about whatever happened to me, a half-celestial shows up.

How annoying.

Heehee, I can think of stronger words than 'annoying'.

I like this one, I like your character's voice. :smallsmile:

Winds
2012-08-30, 09:03 AM
@Lady Moreta

I think you mean 'through' it. Also, I want to know more about this fight. You were so worried earlier about how hard Yang would be to beat and that she could take you in a straight fight, and then when she finally catches up - nothing happens. You mention there's a fight and then all of a sudden 'hey we're all done!'

Fair enough, but we only fought her the first day, long enough to notice that she could dodge Kalach's blasts-and as those were touch spells we figured the rest of the party would have a bad time hitting her even if we could survive. So we ran. Thing is, she wasn't very accurate...the one time she hurt any of us, we were asleep...




I need more detail here. I can't picture this in my mind and it detracts from what follows because I'm still stuck trying to set the scene.

The first room of the tower is basically an elevator.



I'm going to assume there's backstory I'm missing here, because I haven't read previous snippets - but this is a bit of a non seqitur. It just comes randomly out of nowhere. Why is the paladin detecting evil on you (I assume that's what he's doing)? What made him suddenly decide to do it? Even if this is referencing something in the past, I need a bit more detail for it to really make sense in context.


That is likely to remain a problem, as it would be difficult to understand why he would need to remind himself of those things in his own journal. I'll try to remember some way of catching folks up, though. Anyway, the paladin. We were wandering though areas that incredibly evils forces like The Leviathan, the Great Dragon, and various Lovecraftian terrors had gone through. This kept him from using Detect Evil because he wasn't powerful enough to handle detecting evil that strong. Inside the tower was pretty much the first place 'clean' enough to use it. So what followed was Kalach talking about how he wasn't evil, me scrambling to find spots in Helm's dogma that didn't cause the fact that he was technically evil to incite PvP, while the DM dug for bits of dogma that would. His player settled on the Damocles bit.




Hey! I know that phylactery! (Phylactery of Faithfulness right? The warlock in my game has one)


Yeah. The DM made it...less than helpful in this case. It came in handy later, but not for the reasons you'd expect...




I feel like this needs a bit more context as well, but I'm not sure exactly how one would go about providing it.


Yeah...it basically consisted of, you'll need a healer, so here's the DMPC!




Heehee, I can think of stronger words than 'annoying'.

Yeah, but I like understatement.


I like this one, I like your character's voice. :smallsmile:

Glad to hear it!

Drowlord
2012-08-30, 03:25 PM
I haven't gone, just laboriously typing up a massive post up. It should be up by Monday, at worst.

SleepyShadow
2012-08-31, 04:10 PM
Club or Church?
Lupin slowly opened his eyes, wincing in pain as something cold and wet brushed against his forehead. He found himself laying on a theater bench on the main floor, his wounds being tended to by Sara Landry, the woman who had been working on the marquee outside. The young woman smiled warmly at him as she met his gaze.

"What happened?" Lupin asked, slowly sitting up.

Sara gently pushed him back down and placed the wet cloth back upon his brow. "All ya'll done got trounced by that there Frank fella," she explained. "Too bad, too. He was a mighty fine carpenter."

The halfling sat up again, pushing Sara's hand away. "What happened to Derive and Lucy?"

Sara pointed across the aisle to where Derive sat reading the strange book they had found in the hidden chamber.

"Where's Lucy?" Lupin asked worriedly.

Sarah laughed and called out to one of the balconies overhead. "Lucy, honey, have ya caught all them sparkle fairies yet?"

The cat girl poked her head over the balcony railing, a deep frown on her lips. "I'm sorry Sara, I can't find them!"

"Don't worry, dear, them little tricksters are around here somewhere," Sara replied reassuringly.

Lucy smiled brightly, then disappeared out of sight. Lupin glared sternly at Sara, but the woman could only laugh.

"Sorry honey," she said to Lupin, patting him on the head, "but Lucy's pestering was giving me more of a headache than an indoor kobold concert on a hot summer day when I ain't got no booze."

Lupin scratched the back of his head, clearly confused. "What does that even mean?"

"I'm just saying she's dumber than a codfish in a pickle barrel," Sara replied.

Shaking his head confusedly, Lupin slowly got to his feet, gave Sara a nod of thanks, then walked across the aisle to join Derive. The swordsage put the book down and arched a quizzical eyebrow at the halfling.

"What's our plan?" Lupin asked as he sat down beside his companion.

"The book mentions someone named Jonathan Long," Derive answered. "I say we go talk to him."


***

"Frickin' random encounters!"

"I don't know why you're complaining, man," Lupin said to Derive reproachfully. "You get all of your stuff back at the end of the battle."

Lucy smiled brightly as she picked up Lupin and put him on her shoulders. "Besides, we almost leveled up."

"That's not the point," Derive grumbled. "We're in a city. New Greyhawk, of all places. We still got attacked by a pack of clockwork rats in the middle of the day on a busy city street!"

"Well, we were passing by a pet shop at the time," Lupin replied.

Derive snarled, irritated. "Since when are robot rats pets?"

"Since gnomes make awesome steampunk toys." Lupin answered with a sagely nod. "Lucy, we're here. Please put me down."

Lucy shook her head, unintentionally smacking Lupin repeatedly in the face with her long pink hair. "Nuh-uh. Not until you buy me that airship like you promised."

"Would buying you a beer get you to put me down for a little while at least?" the halfling asked hopefully.

"Okay!" Lucy answered happily, immediately dumping Lupin to the ground.


***

Jonathan Long's office was a massive octagonal chamber on the fourth floor of his business's building in downtown New Greyhawk. The floor was immaculate white marble tile, while the walls were painted a pale blue color. Ivory statues lined the walls, and the ceiling was covered with mirrors. Mr. Long sat at his circular desk in the middle of the room, his large leather chair rocking back and forth slightly of its own accord.

Mr. Long himself was a tall and handsome man in his mid-forties. He had short black hair that was graying at the temples, and a well-groomed goatee. He wore a black business suit. He flashed his pearly white teeth at the adventurers as they sat down at his desk.

"My secretary informs me that you wished to speak with me about a private matter," Mr. Long said.

"That's correct," Derive replied. "We found a hidden chamber beneath The Paradise Theater, and inside we found a book about the Sound and Light club. We found your name mentioned in the book as one of its members."

Mr. Long nodded slowly, then leaned back casually in his chair. "It's true. In my younger days, before I became the wealthy land-owner you see before you, I worked as their book keeper. The club was for rich business men to meet with one another, collaborate on projects, go fishing, play cards, so on and so forth. It was disbanded several years ago."

"Frank attacked us when we showed him the book!" Lucy stated.

Mr. Long looked at her with mild curiosity. "Frank ... ?"

"He was working as a carpenter at the theater," Lupin explained. "He rambled on about how films were made of sound and light, and then he attacked us."

"I'm sorry for your trouble," Mr. Long said sincerely. "However, my association with that group ended many years before it was disbanded. I'm sorry, I cannot help you."


***

"Well, that was a waste of time," Derive grumbled as they returned to the theater.

"Oh well," Lupin replied with a shrug. "Every good mystery has its fair share of red herrings."

"Like Communism?" Lucy asked.

Lupin and Derive stared at her as if she had lobsters crawling out of her ears.

"What?" she said defensively. "Am I the only one that's seen the movie Clue?"

Lupin and Derive nodded simultaneously.

"Well fine," she snorted, folding her arms indignantly over her chest. "I guess I'm a wiener then."

"Howdy ya'll!" Sara called out to them excitedly as the entered the theater. "All ya'll oughta come take a gander at these here photos I found in that there cellar down there."

Beaming with pride, the young woman handed them several dusty black and white photos. Lupin feigned interest as he politely flipped through the photos of the theater and its long-forgotten productions. However, he stopped suddenly at one photo and tugged on Derive's pant leg to get his attention. Looking over the halfling's shoulder, he could immediately see why Lupin wanted to show him this one.

In it, a much younger Jonathan Long shook hands with an unusual looking elf woman outside the theater front, with Frank the carpenter standing nervously behind her. Over the front of the theater was a banner that read "Grand Opening! Greyhawk Chapter of the International Church of Sound and Light!"

"No way ..." Derive muttered hoarsely.

Winds
2012-09-01, 08:34 PM
@SleepyShadow


Heh. In a game of that style, there is no random. Only unusual, and it's all related. One way or another. Sounds like an interesting campaign, though. Your own invention, I take it?

Lord_Gareth
2012-09-01, 11:29 PM
And the promised Start Wars snippet. I really need to learn how to write non-combat snippets one of these days.


Pride
The Two Faces Thereof

I probably should have realized something was wrong when Syra stopped talking.

There were four of us (Syra, Ji'kan, Olvis, and myself) along with Master Gu'do. Ji'kan was a shy Zabrak girl, still pretty new to the Order. Olvis's parents were Jedi (some people say that wasn't allowed before Master Skywalker founded the order again, but I wouldn't know) and, well, as for me I was never really a very distinguished padawan. Syra was always the odd one out. She'd come down with some kind of degenerative lung disease, and by the time more advanced medicine got to it all they could do was halt further damage to her lungs - in order to breathe properly, she had to wear a mask at all times, connected to a small filter that she wore on her back. She was Master Gu'do's (an older human man, though the name sounded like an honorific from another species) first padawan, but I could sense quite a bit of frustration and anger that bounced between the two whenever they talked for more than a few minutes at a time.

We'd been sent to investigate some missing persons in one of the less well-off districts of Nar Shadaa - normally outside of our area of interest, but a small group of desperate citizens had come to beg the Order for help. My Master and his small group of students were dispatched to see what we could do.

A 'milk run', Master Katarn had called it, and then he and Master Gu'do had shared an ironic chuckle.

Normally on such a trip Syra and our Master (and, for that matter, myself) would be debating ethics and history with a venom that just barely stayed on this side of improper, to the point where Syra had been officially chastised at least once for her inappropriate conduct. I should have realized something was wrong when Syra started being quiet, but I am shamed to say that in my sheer relief I did not notice what she had so clearly picked up.

We'd entered the power station - one of many - with procedural caution but not with much real care. We had good intelligence that it was abandoned, and so despite the relatively weak lights we moved without due attention to detail. A brief check of the computer systems suggested that something was out of place further into the building, and when Syra formed up on our rear I thought nothing of it.

Then, just as we passed the threshold into the storage room that contained the supposed error, Syra leaped back with a startled cry. Just as we turned to see what was amiss, a force field cut off our access to the outside world, leaving Syra in the small circular room we'd just left. Syra turned away from us suddenly, her left hand reaching down to unbuckle the handle of her weapon - a light-whip, unusual even for a Jedi. I'd often wondered at her choice of so difficult and dangerous a weapon, but neither she nor our Master spoke of it, nor of the large metallic gauntlets and boots that protected her from fingertips-to-elbows, toes-to-knees.

"Someone's...coming..." Syra wheezed through her mask. "I know," came the reply from our Master. "Remain calm, Syra. Remember what you have learned."

"What, precisely, is that?" I asked of my Master through teeth gritted in frustration. "I can sense it now too - Sith, Master. Sith."

Master Gu'do nodded grimly, knowing my concern. Since I'd known her, Syra had contrived to skip or otherwise avoid learning mastery of the Force. Though her potential was in no way undiminished, she refused to develop that power into a mastery more refined than what a youngling might be able to demonstrate. She could sense feelings, see some small distance into the future, and move simple objects, but anything else was above her training - and, evidently, beneath her interest. How she filled up the time she gained as a result was as complete mystery to me - but then my panicked ruminations were interrupted by the arrival of the Sith.

Not a true Lord of the Sith - he wasn't strong enough for that - but an intimidating specimen nevertheless. He was human, but covered in scars from countless battles. He wore no armor, but carried half a dozen lightsabers at his belt, each of them gouged with the personal symbols of their slaughtered owners. He fixed his eyes on Syra and smiled a predator's grin.

"Surrender immediately and you may live," he mocked, reaching for his own lightsaber. It came to life with a dull red glow as Syra set herself into a fighting posture - a simple one, with her feet shoulder-width apart, as though standing at rest. When she activated her weapon it crawled slowly to life, blue light bleeding from its handle all the way to the tip some three and a half meters away. She moved the whip around herself in deceptively slow motions, never letting it touch the ground or walls, and it left blinding afterimages in its lazy wake.

The Sith attacked without warning, launching himself directly at Syra with obvious intent to overpower his much-smaller opponent. She moved with the easy grace of a snake, side-stepping his charge almost lazily and spiraling her weapon so that three coils intercepted his blow; the sound of saber on whip made an electric snap! that was blinding and bright. Syra flowed around her opponent's next charge, her motions surprisingly rapid in spite of her unhurried posture; again and again the saber met the coils of her whip, sending sparks of plasma raining down on the floor without ever once getting within striking distance of my fellow padawan.

"Coward!" Syra's foe snarled, spitting the word like a curse. "Be still and fight me!"

Syra remained silent, the only noise she made coming from the scrape of her metal boots on the floor as she ducked a computer bank hurled by the Sith's power. She danced backwards with a twirling motion that snapped the tip of her whip at him again and again, forcing him to stand his ground and parry, helpless to prevent her retreat.

When she stopped, she ripped the mask from her face and snapped her whip into the panels on the ceiling.

The shocked intakes of breath from Master Gu'do, myself, and his other padawans happened at the same time that all the lights in the room burst, leaving the battlefield in darkness. Syra and her opponent were both briefly illuminated by their weapons before Syra deactivated hers, leaving us to stare at the Sith and the dull red death that he held in his hands.

"I know you're here, coward of the Jedi," the Sith snarled, turning his head to and fro. "I can sense you!"

A scuffling noise from the corner of the room - the Sith blasted lightning in that direction, only to find it utterly vacant. Blinded as we were by the sudden light, we almost missed seeing the Sith recoil as if struck. He grunted in pain and threw lightning in the direction of his assault - and this time we did see it, a mass of Syra's un-powered whip (now simply a very flexible metal cable) hurtling towards the side of the Sith's face. The impact split flesh beneath it, laying his cheek open to the bone and shattering his jaw. Though he was already leaning badly and starting to fall from the surprise blow, I saw Syra's foot snake out and rip his ankle out from under him.

The Sith hit the floor head-first, and a loud crunching sound indicated that his jaw had broken further. Delicately, Syra bent down and plucked the lightsaber from his numb hands, her foe too injured to resist, and in its light we could see that she was turning blue from holding her breath. With careful haste, she attached a new mask and took several deep breaths in the near-silence that followed.

"Well done," Master Gu'do finally said. It seemed to be the only thing to say.


* * *

Later, Syra asked to speak to our prisoner before he was handed over to the Order for judgement and interrogation. Following procedures, Master Gu'do asked me to be there as a silent observer.

"What do you want, girl?" the Sith spat from his cell. His jaw had mostly healed, by now, though it would always be slightly crooked. "Have you come to gloat?"

"No."

"Then what?"

Syra took a few deep breaths, her machines pumping and whirring mechanically in the meanwhile. When she began it was slowly, with careful intent.

"I...have...been...called...a bad...Jedi. I...refuse...instruction. I...disrespect...my...master. I am...angry. Frustrated. All...of...the...time. But I...never...once...thought...of...turning...to...t he Dark...Side."

The Sith gained a snide expression, "So you are here to lecture me on your virtue? Spare me, girl."

Syra shook her head. "No. Not...virtue. Not...discipline. Fear. I...am...afraid. I...did not...ask...for...the...Force. I...would...give...it...up...if I...could. But I...cannot. So I...avoid...it...as best...as...I...can, so...that...temptation...can...never...befall...me . You...have...known...that...which...I...fear. I...wanted...you...to know...that...I...understand."

"Touching, but the point is moot. Your Order will have me executed, girl."

Syra shook her head. "Not...if...you...decide...to...give...our...way... a...try." When the Sith arched an eyebrow, Syra shrugged. "You...can...always...escape...later."

"...I suppose I could, at that."

Recognizing that this was all the thanks she was going to get, Syra turned and walked away, and with nowhere else to go, I followed.

SleepyShadow
2012-09-02, 09:03 AM
Heh. In a game of that style, there is no random. Only unusual, and it's all related. One way or another. Sounds like an interesting campaign, though. Your own invention, I take it?

Yup, the setting and the majority of the adventure is of my own design :smallcool:

mebecronck
2012-09-02, 07:15 PM
Well, I can tell that no one is interested in any "behind the scenes" or "director's commentary" style writing from the DM about the campaign Winds is writing about. I went ahead and deleted the previous posts so as not to spoil anything about Winds future entries.

You did try to warn me Winds. I should have listened to you.

:smallfrown:

Lady Moreta
2012-09-03, 04:25 AM
Well, I can tell that no one is interested in any "behind the scenes" or "director's commentary" style writing from the DM about the campaign Winds is writing about. I went ahead and deleted the previous posts so as not to spoil anything about Winds future entries.

You did try to warn me Winds. I should have listened to you.

:smallfrown:

Awww... I was going to read it... I like background/world building stuff. I actually started skimming over it the other day, but it was a bit wall-of-texty (in the sense that your paragraphs were pretty massive) and I wasn't in the right frame of mind to do a proper read-and-review (I'm still not truth to tell, my ability to be critically constructive seems to come and go and right now it's kinda gone...) Anyway... my point is that I was going to read it, I just hadn't yet. And truth to tell, a lot of the snippets on here don't get read or commented on (for instance, the last thing I wrote - which I'm pretty sure I posted before your stuff - hasn't been read or commented on either, but I haven't deleted it). Just because it hasn't been commented on doesn't a) mean no one has read it and b) doesn't mean no one is interested.

And you didn't have to delete it - if people genuinely didn't want to read potential spoilers for Winds' snippets, they simply didn't have to read what you wrote - that's what spoiler tags are for after all.

And to prove my point (or something)... SleepyShadow and Gareth - I have actually read both your recent snippets, but my brain has been fairly non-functional for the past week or so so I haven't actually gotten around to critiquing them yet. Rest assured I shall do so... as soon as this headache goes away.

Also... Gareth - I believe you owed me a response to an old Lyra snippet of mine... I shall let you off the hook if you go read the last thing I posted (Leonora's backstory). (mebecronck - poking at people to read your stuff is a perfectly acceptable solution as well :smallbiggrin:)

Mabs
2012-09-03, 02:07 PM
Hello all!

Well, this is my first post on-site but I've been a long time lurker, and lover of all of these snippets! So I decided to join and post my (probably very bad >_>) snippet that will probably come in two parts. Though I do not DM this game of Werewolf: The Forsaken, I play Emile in fact, I decided to write this session up as I had a lot of fun with it. Hope you enjoy!

Warning: Contains bad language!

Of Wolf and Man
Or; Never trust the dead guys.

“Stupid bloodsucking ****s.”

Rex gripped the steering wheel just a little bit harder than he meant to and heard the plastic creak, never taking his eyes off the road as he slowly allowed his fingers to relax. The large thickly built bald African-American had no trouble imagining the expression his young pack-mate currently had on his face. At any other time he might have cracked a smile; Emile was, despite being the pack’s best scout and tracker as a natural born Irraka, utterly terrible at hiding how he felt in any form. Rex could put that down to his age though – Emile had barely been an Uratha a year, and at only fourteen any normal human teenager would be entering a whole world of mood swings and other such wonders.

Rex mused for a brief second that perhaps Emile hadn’t entirely left that behind, but couldn’t fault the boy. No, all of the pack – though only four – where still hurting over the loss of Amelia. She had always been the motherly one with a smile that could work wonders for everyone’s moral and happiness. Of course, fate would have it that she would be the first to die – and with it, the Pack lost their link to the Spirit Realm.

“Why are we playing nice, Rex? We should be ripping out their ****ing throats, not agreeing to meet them so they can stroke their ****ing ego-” Emile snarled out but was cut off by another, the woman sitting in the passenger seat to Rex.

“Emi, enough. I know you’re hurting over loosing Amelia. We all are, and this doesn’t sit right with any of us, but they’re offering to play nice for a little while, and we shouldn’t waste this chance to settle it without violence.” Rachel murmured, never having opened her eyes. The Irraka didn’t reply but for a small rumble in his throat that faded out as his attention turned to something else – probably the window. Rex spared Rachel a glance; the small blonde-haired mousey woman was much akin to Emile in that one would not expect her to be a strong and proud Uratha. As the Elodoth, Rachel would be the pack’s voice in the upcoming meeting. She was quiet and reserved with her words and actions, but was just as willing to throw herself into a fight in a split second if her pack was in danger – any of them would. Though Rex was the Alpha, she had a way with words that he simply did not, and he often looked to her to find the words he couldn’t.

There was silence as the jeep turned into a small side street, heading towards the outskirts of town. They were almost there now – and perhaps on queue the final member of the pack spoke up. It was so sudden that Emile jumped out of his skin and the sound of a skull meeting glass was heard along with a small yelp – that was enough to make everyone smile just a bit. The boy rubbed the side of his head under his black hooded top as the figure beside him spoke.

“Don’t matter anyways; if they step out of line we’ll beat the **** out of them. Blood drinking ****s aint got nothing on us. Bring all the cheap shades and fancy suits they want.” Ross said, the man running a hand through his bright pink Mohawk as he flashed a wide confident grin, nestling back into the seat. Ross was the loudmouthed one who was always the first into the fight and last out, looking like the stereotypical punk rocker – which he quite proudly blasted around the Den on those rare times the pack had to rest. He was also the one Emile had bonded to the most, as Ross had really taken a liking to the young teenager. Rex glanced in the rear view mirror in time to see Ross casually reach over and ruffle Emile’s shoulder length curly brown hair under his hooded sweatshirt, earning a swat from the young boy, but a wide grin too. Rex smiled then; Ross could also cheer damn near anyone up despite their mood. They drove for another few minutes before the other vehicle came into view – a limo, of all things. Three figures stood out a good distance away, obscured by the darkness that permeated the woodland – Rex hadn’t even realized he’d been driving the car damn near on autopilot. This place was on the fringes of their territory, but still very much inside it – and just the sight of the Vampires put everyone into defensive mode. Rex pulled into the clearing and stopped the car; everyone simply staring out the windscreen for several moments before they got out.

Rex took the time as he got out examining the three figures – even in Hishu form he had rather good eyesight. And he’d be damned if they weren’t the picture of stuck up aristocrats. The leader was dressed in a plainly expensive black dress suit like you’d go to a fancy dinner with, his blonde hair slicked back against his scalp and, yes, black sunglasses over his eyes. It was almost enough to make the man burst out into laugher. He looked like a complete and utter prick. The other two – a redheaded woman and a smaller Caucasian man with spiked brown hair who was smoking a cigarette – looked to have bought their clothes from the same store as the leader. The redhead with a slim, almost attractive face wore a revealing red dress with matching high-heels and the other male wore a simple suit himself..

Rex heard Ross snort a laugh, but true to form Rachel didn’t give a reaction either way – quiet and meditated. The Alpha heard the subtle cracking of bones and the light thump as paws hit the grass, Emile having assumed his small and slender Urhan form. The small wolf was covered in a thick mottled brown coat of fur that matched his hair as a human, his long legs built for running and endurance. He padded up beside Rex with a soft rumble, before as one the pack crossed the ground between themselves and the Vampires until the two groups stood not fifteen feet apart from one another.

“Welcome.” The leader smirked as he pushed the sunglasses down his nose to take each of the Uratha in one at a time. Rex didn’t miss the fact he was showing off. “I expected you to be a little more punctual.”

Without missing a beat, Ross rolled his shoulders and spoke. “Traffic was a nightmare.” The Rahu replied with a cocky smirk; Emile snorted and trotted up beside his friend, eyes never leaving any of the Kindred facing them. The leader frowned, his face flashing with anger for a moment before he cleared his throat to regain his composure.

“I see.” He forced out before the confident smirk returned. “Our Prince sends his deepest apologies for the tragedy that has befallen your... pack.” He forced the word out as though saying it would make him gag. “My name is Alexander Belmont and these are my associates, Miss Amanda Jane and Alistair Craven.” He gestured to each in turn, the woman and the male, who weren’t taking a bit of notice to what was going on. Rachel pushed her glasses up her nose before she spoke in her usual calm, measured tone.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Belmont.” She replied, her voice giving away not a bit of discomfort. “These are my pack; Lucan Rexford, Ross Eton, Emile Avaant and I, Rachel Noble.”

Alexander nodded his head swiftly, before he leant back and cleared his throat once more. Rex glanced at his pack to take in their emotions; Ross had a scowl on his face, arms folded across his chest tightly and Emile was trotting back and forth along an invisible line with his hackles up – he was the most uncomfortable, but Rex wasn’t worried about him turning the meeting into a bloodbath. He was far more inclined to believe the Vampires would incite it.

Perhaps the negotiations would have truly begun in earnest if the wind hadn’t suddenly changed in the opposite direction; with it came the horrible scent of cloying decay and something else; something none of them had previously detected. Emile stopped pacing, sniffing the air – his Urhan senses where the most acute. And then he started snarling ferociously, muzzle wrinkling into a line of large fangs and his brown fur standing up on end, ears tilted forward in anger. The Pack didn’t need to scent it themselves to know what it was – Silver.

They’d brought Silver to a diplomatic meeting.

mebecronck
2012-09-03, 06:24 PM
All right. I will try again. If (once again) I feel like there is no real interest, I will not delete my previous entries. Instead I just won't write any additional ones.

I will begin anew with a rewrite of my last entry - The "Towers" - and if any interest is expressed I will continue ... from the beginning. I will go back to the beginning of the campaign and give detailed background information on all the locations and NPCs. Descriptions, history, and details that might be interesting.

Before I begin, a reintroduction. I am the DM that created the campaign world about which Winds is writing. My intent is to give a detailed explanation of the world and characters that surround his character, for his "Journal" style writing doesn't leave much room for such things. I will be covering a lot of information, and I won't stop until all that I feel is important is covered. If this leads to the entry being lengthy, then so be it.

`And now - The "Towers"`


The Name:
Let me first establish that I never referred to them during gameplay as towers. This is a creative choice of Winds or the character Kallach to show us a similar image with a more familiar name. What I called them, however, is Obelisks. The name "Obelisks" is not so common and as such might not immediately bring any form of imagery to most who would read it. At least not without pulling out Merriam/Webster.

Description:
The Obelisks are Ra's Rays from ancient Egyptian times. The most famous of them in the western world would be The Washington Monument. The Obelisks look exactly like this, except at half the scale. When dormant the have a subtle inner light which glows pure white. When active, they glow violently dark red and are wrapped in eldritch energy.

The guardian is the defender and key of the Obelisks. Each one having a different guardian, I will go into detail about them when I cover specific Obelisks. In general, however, they open the Obelisks by placing a piece of themselves within it (hand/claw/etc) and pulling down, as if on a lever. The Obelisk then splits straight down the middle and parts upon itself creating two parallel half obelisks. This reveals a stairwell where the Obelisk once sit.

Walk-through:
Entryway - After going down the stairwell the players are met with a giant double door with no obvious means to open it. Perpendicular walls to the left and right show normal size singular doors.

Going through the door on the left reveals the largest mound of treasure the characters have ever seen. Imagine Mt. Everest made of gold and platinum coins with assorted rare gem stones mixed within. Now imagine many them.

Going through the door on the right reveals a small table with a wooden bowl set upon it with a sign next to it that says simply "Tithe".

This is an obvious test. The solution of which is simply to place one tenth of your wealth in the bowl. All players must remit. If they were to try and take from the wealth in the other room, they would find that by no means can the gold leave the room. Physically trying to take the gold through the door is met with an invisible force at the doorway. All teleportation and interdimensional means of transport fail automatically, and bags of holding cannot leave the room if holding gold from it.

(This is something that Kallach's team never discovered.They always just Tithed.)

Chamber - Through the double doors the players find a large round room. The style is Roman with 12 massive pillars set in a circle around the room holding up the ceiling. On the opposite side of the room from the door is 13 Obelisks. One directly opposite and 6 to either side. Concentric circular steps rise in the center of the room. Standing on top of the steps is a man in modern day formal attire; hands held behind his back and nose pointed slightly upward.

-break-

Character:
Jeeves - He is the caretaker, in many ways, of the Obelisk. He knows of everything that goes on within it, and has certain powers over it. However, he is not real. He is not physical, even ghost touch weapons don't harm him. He is an illusion that the players can interact with to gain information about the Obelisk, although, the magic of the Obelisk prevents him from revealing certain details. He also provides a meal to the players if they stay in the Obelisk long enough. However, he never leaves that step.

-continue Description-

Main Room- When all the players are on the top step and have told Jeeves they are ready to continue, the step lowers into the ground revealing it to be an elevator leading deeper into the Obelisk. When the elevator stops the players see a large rectangular room. A long table set in the center with nothing on it. Large double doors on the far end similar to the ones they passed through to enter the Obelisk, and a variable number of doors set in the left and right walls (dependent upon the number of trials for the Obelisk.)

This room serves as an intermission between trials. The door they pass through is standard and wooden, when they first go through, but turns green if they pass or red if they fail. Pass or fail, they cannot reenter the room. The table in the center will have food if they stay long enough in the obelisk. Eating it fully heals the players. Once the players have passed a majority of the trials, the double doors open.

-break-

Trials:
The trails are where I let my imagination as a DM go wild. They can be anything. At first I intended each one to be a morality test. Then, I tried to incorporate intellectual puzzles. Finally, I said "heck with it" and used it as an excuse to try anything I wanted.

-continue Description-

Activation Room - In this room resides the final test. This again varies depending on the Obelisk. The one thing in common between them is the sword and the stone. The sword acts as the key to activate the Obelisk. By taking up the sword and calling out a deities name you claim the Obelisk for that deity. More on this later.

History:
A long time ago, when arcane magic was not regulated by gods, a group of wizards, exploring different dimensions, decided to create something "daring". Wanting to understand their gods better, they created a powerful magical artifact that would forcefully bring a piece of the gods home domain to the material plane. The ego of the wizards made them think, "Why should we travel there, when we can bring them here?" Thus, the Obelisks were created.

This artifact would literally bring two points on two planes together as one. Turning the interior of the Obelisk and part of the surrounding area into the home plane of the chosen god.

Knowing how dangerous such an artifact could become in the wrong hands, they placed several protective measures. They made the Obelisks invisible and incorporeal to all but those who know where (and how) to look for them. They placed a guardian with each, and made them the keys to open the Obelisks. They placed trials to determine the worth of any who enter it.

Even with the massive egos, typical of wizards, they knew they would not always be around to control the Obelisks. Not wanting their hard work to waste away with time they placed means for future generations to find and use them.

They created a compass that points to the nearest Obelisk, and shows their exact locations when placed upon a map. They created a caretaker, that will maintain the Obelisk and sustain the magic which powers it. Finally, they made all that resides within the Obelisk adaptable to the passing of time. The appearance of the caretaker, the language he speaks, and even the nature of the trials change to match the norm of the now. So that future generations won't walk in and become immediately confused by what they see and hear.

Time passes on, and the magic of the Obelisks wanes. The invisibility and incorporeality spells on the Obelisks fail entirely. Revealing them to the world. Inside, the stability of the magic that governs the trials becomes unstable. Now the trials may no longer test participants in the way originally intended.

Conclusion:
This covers, I believe, the Obelisks in full detail. If you have any questions let me know. If enough interest is expressed in continuing this series; Next is "The Island".

Lady Moreta
2012-09-04, 12:53 AM
SleepyShadow


Sarah laughed and called out to one of the balconies overhead. "Lucy, honey, have ya caught all them sparkle fairies yet?"

The cat girl poked her head over the balcony railing, a deep frown on her lips. "I'm sorry Sara, I can't find them!"

"Don't worry, dear, them little tricksters are around here somewhere," Sara replied reassuringly.

Lucy smiled brightly, then disappeared out of sight. Lupin glared sternly at Sara, but the woman could only laugh.

"Sorry honey," she said to Lupin, patting him on the head, "but Lucy's pestering was giving me more of a headache than an indoor kobold concert on a hot summer day when I ain't got no booze."

I love this entire scene :smallbiggrin: It just cracks me up. Again, you have a knack for creating extremely expressive and realistic scenes/pictures with a minimum of words. It's great! And I love the indoor kobold concert analogy. I also love how confused Lupin is by it... it's a bit of a random thing to say and I can just seem him scratching his head going "wha...?"


"Frickin' random encounters!"

Heehee :smallsmile: But I thought adventurers love random encounters! :smalltongue: I also love that this works well in character/universe as well as just plain metagaming.


Lucy shook her head, unintentionally smacking Lupin repeatedly in the face with her long pink hair. "Nuh-uh. Not until you buy me that airship like you promised."

"Would buying you a beer get you to put me down for a little while at least?" the halfling asked hopefully.

"Okay!" Lucy answered happily, immediately dumping Lupin to the ground.

Lucy has the attention span of a gnat, doesn't she? :smallbiggrin:


"Well fine," she snorted, folding her arms indignantly over her chest. "I guess I'm a wiener then."

"Howdy ya'll!" Sara called out to them excitedly as the entered the theater. "All ya'll oughta come take a gander at these here photos I found in that there cellar down there."

I'd probably put a *** break between these two paragraphs. You do mention that they're on their way back to the theatre, but there's no scenes of them walking or arriving so the sudden change is a bit abrupt and left me going 'hang on a minute... when did they get back here?' - either include more detail about them walking and arriving, or just whack in a scene break.


Lupin feigned interest as he politely flipped through the photos of the theater and its long-forgotten productions. However, he stopped suddenly at one photo and tugged on Derive's pant leg to get his attention. Looking over the halfling's shoulder, he could immediately see why Lupin wanted to show him this one.

This is quite confusing... You change point of view in the middle of the paragraph and it makes it really hard to tell who's who and what each one is doing. You start out with Lupin's perspective and using the pronoun 'he' to refer to Lupin. Then all of a sudden, two sentences away, you're now with Derive and using 'he' to refer to Derive... At the very least, I'd say you need to change "... he could immediately see..." to "... Derive could immediately see..." we need to know exactly who is doing what.


In it, a much younger Jonathan Long shook hands with an unusual looking elf woman outside the theater front, with Frank the carpenter standing nervously behind her. Over the front of the theater was a banner that read "Grand Opening! Greyhawk Chapter of the International Church of Sound and Light!"

"No way ..." Derive muttered hoarsely.

Oh dear Derive... I saw that coming a mile away :smallbiggrin:

Overall, I liked this, it was a good 'filler' - bit of exposition, bit of inferred action, good humour... giving us some plot details but without being boring.

Lord_Gareth


I gotta admit, this isn't my favourite thing you've ever written... I can see what you meant about having trouble working out which perspective to write from... it feels a bit clunky like you had trouble with it. I am a little confused though - which of them was actually your character?


I probably should have realized something was wrong when Syra stopped talking.

I gotta admit, this bugs me... you never really explain why your guy (whose name I don't believe we ever find out) should have realised something was wrong... or rather, we don't find out exactly what it was that was wrong. You mention later that there was something she had "so clearly picked up" but you never elaborate on what that is. Was it simply that she realised the Sith was following you and went silent because she knew somehow she'd have to fight the guy and she didn't want to?


She was Master Gu'do's (an older human man, though the name sounded like an honorific from another species) first padawan,

Don't do that. I hate parentheses used in first-person like that... I'll admit, it could just be a personality quirk on my part... though to be honest, I find it detracts from the flow of the snippet, I've gotten so sidetracked by the fairly long parenthetical that by the time we're done with it, I've forgotten what was going on outside! I'd have just said 'she was Master G's first padawan.' and then added the description in a separate paragraph.

I am fascinated by the dynamic that you show between them. The almost fighting and tension... I assume is caused by Syra's lack of desire to actually learn anything more about the Force... save what she needs to avoid the Dark Side. I also kind of get the feeling that while she's been reprimanded for inappropriate behaviour - Gu'do doesn't mind so much... I don't know why, I just get the feeling that it doesn't bug him as much as it seems to bug everyone else (well, your narrator at least). I think I figure if it did, he wouldn't be so patient with her.


My Master and his small group of students were dispatched to see what we could do.

A 'milk run', Master Katarn had called it, and then he and Master Gu'do had shared an ironic chuckle.

Normally on such a trip Syra and our Master (and, for that matter, myself)

I is confused... who is the narrator's Master? Gu'do or Katarn? I would assume you mean Gu'do is his master, but you never actually refer to him by name as such, not the way you refer to him by name as Syra's master... and immediately after you first mention 'my master' specifically, you then go on to also mention Katarn, which makes me wonder if he is perhaps your master.


A brief check of the computer systems suggested that something was out of place further into the building, and when Syra formed up on our rear I thought nothing of it.

I like the subtley of this... how you give just the vaguest hints that Syra knew something/someone was coming, and while the narrator seems to have figured it out now at the time, he didn't. Alas, though, it took me three read throughs to realise that's what you were implying, so it might have been a tad too subtle. Or you just needed a few more clues scattered here and there throughout.


Then, just as we passed the threshold into the storage room that contained the supposed error, Syra leaped back with a startled cry. Just as we turned to see what was amiss, a force field cut off our access to the outside world, leaving Syra in the small circular room we'd just left.

The flow/sequencing/timing bugs me here. I feel like the force field cutting them off should coincide with Syra's leaping back - as in, that's what caused her to leap back. But that's not how it reads. It reads like Syra leaped back... then you all turned to see why and as you did so, the force field appeared. In which case - why did Syra leap back in the first place?


"Someone's...coming..." Syra wheezed through her mask. "I know," came the reply from our Master. "Remain calm, Syra. Remember what you have learned."

"What, precisely, is that?" I asked of my Master through teeth gritted in frustration. "I can sense it now too - Sith, Master. Sith."

Now now, no need to be nasty :smalltongue: I like this part, even though, I admit, I had to read it a couple of times before I realised that he was referring to Syra's having learned something... I thought he was wondering what she was sensing at first...


Not a true Lord of the Sith - he wasn't strong enough for that - but an intimidating specimen nevertheless. He was human, but covered in scars from countless battles. He wore no armor, but carried half a dozen lightsabers at his belt, each of them gouged with the personal symbols of their slaughtered owners. He fixed his eyes on Syra and smiled a predator's grin.

I like this description :smallsmile: I can picture all the scars and the idea of all those damaged lightsabers is wonderful. It also speaks to the guy's character without him having to say anything. I imagine lightsabers aren't all that light to carry, so the fact that he's got them all dangling off him as trophies speaks to a certain - pride.

As always, your battle descriptions are excellent. I love the imagry of the whip sparking and flashing and the movements are clean, consise and easy to follow.


When she stopped, she ripped the mask from her face and snapped her whip into the panels on the ceiling.

Okay, this is driving me bonkers. Why does she rip her mask off? Is she concerned about getting sparks in it when she flashes the whip into the panel? Cause I imagine she's been in danger of getting sparks in it the entire fight. I know you mention it again later when she puts the mask back on... but there is no mention of why she took it off in the first place. And because the narrator isn't confused by it, I imagine that he knows in which case I want him to explain it. If he doesn't know why she did it, then I want his confusion to be made clear.

But I love that she uses the deactivated whip as - well, a whip. Good for her :smallbiggrin:


"I...have...been...called...a bad...Jedi. I...refuse...instruction. I...disrespect...my...master. I am...angry. Frustrated. All...of...the...time. But I...never...once...thought...of...turning...to...t he Dark...Side."

This speech is because she's wheezing and has trouble talking, yes? I want this to be made clearer. I realise earlier you mention that she wheezes while talking to Gu'do, but she only says two words so it's easy to imagine that it was just a once off thing. You never mention that the lung disorder means she has trouble speaking (though now that I think about it, it is perfectly logical)... all that makes this section seem a bit out-of-nowhereish. I'd also suggest not relying solely on ellipses... shake things up a bit, use a hyphen or a dash :smalltongue:


Syra shook her head. "Not...if...you...decide...to...give...our...way... a...try." When the Sith arched an eyebrow, Syra shrugged. "You...can...always...escape...later."

"...I suppose I could, at that."

This gives me the giggles. I love the way Syra seems to understand the guy and in her own slightly twisted way, she tries to help him. But the whole 'you can escape later' thing just cracks me up. I find myself imagining that they don't let Syra talk to prisoners any more!

Mabs

Warning: Contains bad language!

Alas, the forum filters have replaced them with lots of ****, but the point is still clear :smallsmile:


Or; Never trust the dead guys.

Good advice that :smallbiggrin:


At any other time he might have cracked a smile; Emile was, despite being the pack’s best scout and tracker as a natural born Irraka, utterly terrible at hiding how he felt in any form. Rex could put that down to his age though – Emile had barely been an Uratha a year, and at only fourteen any normal human teenager would be entering a whole world of mood swings and other such wonders.

I'm going to pick on these as being representative of something that you seem to do fairly frequently. Long rambling sentences with lots of commas and other punctuation that really should be separate into two or more sentences each. In both of these, by the time I got to the end of the sentence, I'd forgotten what was going on. You wander a little bit, changing subject halfway through - the first one you start talking about how Rex would normally have smiled, but you end up talking about how Emile is a natural tracker and bad at hiding how he feels. A good rule of thumb is one subject, one sentence. And the second sentence you wander through telling us that Emile's only been part of the group for a while and then start rambling about what normal teenagers would be like. Which is an effective and interesting way of giving us a quick insight into Emile's personality, but should have been split off into a sentence of its own.

I can give examples of how I'd rewrite those to show you what I mean if you like :smallsmile:


She had always been the motherly one with a smile that could work wonders for everyone’s morale and happiness.

See the quote for a spelling correction :smallsmile:

Also... punctuation! Your first paragraph had lots of it! Where'd it go? :smallwink: I suggest adding a comma between 'one' and 'with' - it'll help the flow of the sentence.


“Emi, enough.

I find it amusing (and quite telling) that the angsty, angry teenager is being called 'Emi' - a distinctly feminine name :smallbiggrin:


I know you’re hurting over loosing Amelia.

Losing Amelia... you lost her, you didn't set her loose :smalltongue:


We all are, and this doesn’t sit right with any of us, but they’re offering to play nice for a little while, and we shouldn’t waste this chance to settle it without violence.” Rachel murmured, never having opened her eyes.

I like this - it's a very nice, simple way of describing Rachel's character without going into lots of detail. Your choice of words, and the fact that she's mumuring, thus not raising her voice, and not even bothering to open her eyes all build up a good picture of a calm, diplomatic, probably unflappable person. Nice :smallsmile:


The Irraka didn’t reply but for a small rumble in his throat that faded out as his attention turned to something else – probably the window. Rex spared Rachel a glance; the small blonde-haired mousey woman was much akin to Emile in that one would not expect her to be a strong and proud Uratha. As the Elodoth, Rachel would be the pack’s voice in the upcoming meeting. She was quiet and reserved with her words and actions, but was just as willing to throw herself into a fight in a split second if her pack was in danger – any of them would. Though Rex was the Alpha, she had a way with words that he simply did not, and he often looked to her to find the words he couldn’t.

I like the way you explain what an 'Elodeth' is without coming right out and saying it. Exposition like this is really hard to do, when the style of writing means that such in-universe terms are obviously already understood by the characters, but you still have to explain it to the readers without interrupting the story to just go 'oh by the way, here's what this means'. I would like to see you try this with the meaning for Irraka - it's not clear whether this is a race, a role or something else. Elodeth seems to be some sort of title or job, that's clear enough - but what exactly is an Irraka (apart from a good tracker)?


They were almost there now – and perhaps on queue the final member of the pack spoke up.

cue not queue...


Ross said, the man running a hand through his bright pink Mohawk as he flashed a wide confident grin, nestling back into the seat.

I love the pink mohawk (don't capitalise 'mohawk' by the way, it's not a personal pronoun or a name or anything, so it doesn't need it)... but I can't see a person as badass as Ross clearly is, nestling into anything - unless it's a willing woman :smalltongue:


Ross was the loudmouthed one who was always the first into the fight and last out, looking like the stereotypical punk rocker – which he quite proudly blasted around the Den on those rare times the pack had to rest.

This is another sentence that should have been split into two. I'd stop at the part where you say he's first in and last out of a fight. Put in a period and then add the physical description as a new sentence.


Ross could also cheer damn near anyone up despite their mood.

I suggest rearranging your words here to "... cheer up damn near anyone" it just reads better that way.


Rex hadn’t even realized he’d been driving the car damn near on autopilot.

Take out the 'damn near' on this one... I know what it's like to want to use a phrase you like, but since he clearly hadn't realised he'd been driving the car to their destination regardless, then it's clear he's not doing anything on 'damn near' anything. He is on autopilot.


The leader was dressed in a plainly expensive black dress suit like you’d go to a fancy dinner with, in

You go to dinner with a guest, you go in a suit. :smallsmile:


Rex heard Ross snort a laugh, but true to form Rachel didn’t give a reaction either way – quiet and meditated. meditative.

Quite apart from the fact that in this sentence, 'meditated' is easy to misread as 'medicated' (which is what I did in fact)... it's also the wrong tense.


The Alpha heard the subtle cracking of bones and the light thump as paws hit the grass, Emile having assumed his small and slender Urhan form.

I want more information/detail on what an 'urhan' form is. Also, I'm curious as to why Emile went wolf?


Without missing a beat, Ross rolled his shoulders and spoke. “Traffic was a nightmare.” The Rahu replied with a cocky smirk;

I like this - quite apart from the fact Ross is clearly a smartass... I like the way you casually drop what I assume is his title (Rahu) into the sentence. Here is doesn't need to be explained so much, because it's not that important to the story. I want 'urhan' above explained because it's clear that these guys are werewolves, so what on earth is 'urhan'? is it a specific type of wolf? a specific form they can assume? this is kind of important to know.


“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Belmont.” She replied, her voice giving away not a bit of discomfort.

Why is she calling him 'Sir'? Is it something Rachel just does? or is Alexander supposed to be a sir? In which case, he should have introduced himself as 'Sir Alexander Belmont'. If it's just an honourific like sir/ma'am then it shouldn't be capitalised, or linked to the guy's surname. It'd either be "... sir." end of sentence, or "... Mr. Belmont."


Perhaps the negotiations would have truly begun in earnest if the wind hadn’t suddenly changed in the opposite direction; with it came the horrible scent of cloying decay and something else; something none of them had previously detected. Emile stopped pacing, sniffing the air – his Urhan senses where the most acute. And then he started snarling ferociously, muzzle wrinkling into a line of large fangs and his brown fur standing up on end, ears tilted forward in anger. The Pack didn’t need to scent it themselves to know what it was – Silver.

They’d brought Silver to a diplomatic meeting.

I assume you mean silver the metal as it's dangerous to werewolves? I love the idea that they can smell it, fascinating :smallsmile: having said that, if that's the case, don't capitalise it. It's a bad thing, obviously, but it's not a name or pronoun so doesn't need to be capitalised. In fact the way you've written it says that they've brought a person whose name is Silver to the meeting.

I love the last line - you can just hear the disbelieving 'idiots!' :smallbiggrin:


mebecronck

I will begin anew with a rewrite of my last entry - The "Towers" - and if any interest is expressed I will continue ... from the beginning. I will go back to the beginning of the campaign and give detailed background information on all the locations and NPCs. Descriptions, history, and details that might be interesting.

It is interesting :smallsmile: I love background stuff and it's clear you've put a lot of thought into what you did. It's fascinating. And thank you for cleaning up the formatting, smaller paragraphs and headings made it much easier to read.


The name "Obelisks" is not so common and as such might not immediately bring any form of imagery to most who would read it. At least not without pulling out Merriam/Webster.

Unless people read Asterix comics as a kid :smallbiggrin: I do know what an obelisk is, but I see your point. And knowing that's their proper name makes it easier to picture what they'd look like.


When dormant the have a subtle inner light which glows pure white. When active, they glow violently dark red and are wrapped in eldritch energy.

That sounds delightfully creepy :smallbiggrin:


(This is something that Kallach's team never discovered.They always just Tithed.)

I am disappointed to hear it. I'd love to see a snippet about a group trying to get out of the treasure room and failing. Sounds like it'd be fun :smallbiggrin:


Jeeves - He is the caretaker, in many ways, of the Obelisk. He knows of everything that goes on within it, and has certain powers over it. However, he is not real. He is not physical, even ghost touch weapons don't harm him. He is an illusion that the players can interact with to gain information about the Obelisk, although, the magic of the Obelisk prevents him from revealing certain details. He also provides a meal to the players if they stay in the Obelisk long enough. However, he never leaves that step.

I love that you called him Jeeves. I like this concept - someone to give a little help, but not too much.


This room serves as an intermission between trials. The door they pass through is standard and wooden, when they first go through, but turns green if they pass or red if they fail. Pass or fail, they cannot reenter the room. The table in the center will have food if they stay long enough in the obelisk. Eating it fully heals the players. Once the players have passed a majority of the trials, the double doors open.

I like this too. I appreciate that you've given your players somewhere to get healing if they need it. My own DM has done much the same thing through our npc paladin... none of us are healers in any way whatsoever, and while we've all got healing belts, at the level we are now (17ish) they just don't cut it. Having a paladin-healer on hand is much appreciated.


Finally, I said "heck with it" and used it as an excuse to try anything I wanted.

Good call. I'm not going to show this to my husband (who is also my DM), because I don't want him to get ideas. He gets enough of those on his own :smalltongue:


This artifact would literally bring two points on two planes together as one. Turning the interior of the Obelisk and part of the surrounding area into the home plane of the chosen god.

Interesting concept. I like it :smallsmile:

Mabs
2012-09-04, 02:26 AM
@Lady Moreta


Alas, the forum filters have replaced them with lots of ****, but the point is still clear :smallsmile:

That's good :D I was worried. Ross expecially tends to swear like a sailor. So does Emile, when he gets moody. :smallbiggrin:


Good advice that :smallbiggrin:

Glad you think so! In the White Wolf gameline, you can typically trust Vampires about as far as you can throw them. I dunno why we thought this was go otherwise. :smalltongue:



I'm going to pick on these as being representative of something that you seem to do fairly frequently. Long rambling sentences with lots of commas and other punctuation that really should be separate into two or more sentences each. In both of these, by the time I got to the end of the sentence, I'd forgotten what was going on. You wander a little bit, changing subject halfway through - the first one you start talking about how Rex would normally have smiled, but you end up talking about how Emile is a natural tracker and bad at hiding how he feels. A good rule of thumb is one subject, one sentence. And the second sentence you wander through telling us that Emile's only been part of the group for a while and then start rambling about what normal teenagers would be like. Which is an effective and interesting way of giving us a quick insight into Emile's personality, but should have been split off into a sentence of its own.

Thank you! I was on a roll when I wrote this, I should have probably checked things like this before posting it. I sense a theme is coming with your critique :D

I can give examples of how I'd rewrite those to show you what I mean if you like :smallsmile:

Please do!

See the quote for a spelling correction :smallsmile:

^_^


Also... punctuation! Your first paragraph had lots of it! Where'd it go? :smallwink: I suggest adding a comma between 'one' and 'with' - it'll help the flow of the sentence.

I think Werewolves ate it. :P Thank you!


I find it amusing (and quite telling) that the angsty, angry teenager is being called 'Emi' - a distinctly feminine name :smallbiggrin:

I think this might come down to how we pronounce Emile's name at our sessions. When I made him, I meant it to be said "Ee-mile" and they found the best nickname was Emi. IC, he doesn't much mind this (unless he's in a grumpy mood :P)


Losing Amelia... you lost her, you didn't set her loose :smalltongue:

We did once! :D But in this context you are very right, thank you ^^



I like this - it's a very nice, simple way of describing Rachel's character without going into lots of detail. Your choice of words, and the fact that she's mumuring, thus not raising her voice, and not even bothering to open her eyes all build up a good picture of a calm, diplomatic, probably unflappable person. Nice :smallsmile:

Thankyou! Yes, she's much the level head in our Pack. Which, considering Werewolves are angry damn near all the time, is a blessing. She's the one that makes sure we talk to the people we go to talk to, not eat them! :smallbiggrin:



I like the way you explain what an 'Elodeth' is without coming right out and saying it. Exposition like this is really hard to do, when the style of writing means that such in-universe terms are obviously already understood by the characters, but you still have to explain it to the readers without interrupting the story to just go 'oh by the way, here's what this means'. I would like to see you try this with the meaning for Irraka - it's not clear whether this is a race, a role or something else. Elodeth seems to be some sort of title or job, that's clear enough - but what exactly is an Irraka (apart from a good tracker)?

I'll add this into the story, thank you. I wasn't sure how to do it without making it sound exactly like that, but like I'll do later I'll also tell you here, so it becomes clearer;

In W:TF, Werewolves are born under certain moon phases. These moon phases, while not exact, are big big signs as to what 'role' a Werewolf will play in a pack. Irraka is the loner, whom is the best at stealth and seems apart from the pack at times. As spirits and the like are very much real, these are literal things - All Werewolves can fight, all Werewolves can sneak, but some are better than others at these things, and some can learn certain abilities to assist them. Emile was born on a new moon, which made him an Irraka. :D



cue not queue...

Thanks!



I love the pink mohawk (don't capitalise 'mohawk' by the way, it's not a personal pronoun or a name or anything, so it doesn't need it)... but I can't see a person as badass as Ross clearly is, nestling into anything - unless it's a willing woman :smalltongue:

Ross - IC and OOC - is awesome for details like that. But very much yes, a willing woman would be much preferred :smalltongue: I tried to get across he was getting comfy, but didn't quite put it across right I think!



This is another sentence that should have been split into two. I'd stop at the part where you say he's first in and last out of a fight. Put in a period and then add the physical description as a new sentence.

Shall do!



I suggest rearranging your words here to "... cheer up damn near anyone" it just reads better that way.

-nods- ^^



Take out the 'damn near' on this one... I know what it's like to want to use a phrase you like, but since he clearly hadn't realised he'd been driving the car to their destination regardless, then it's clear he's not doing anything on 'damn near' anything. He is on autopilot.

I have a very bad habit of that in this piece, it seems. xD



You go to dinner with a guest, you go in a suit. :smallsmile:

Oops. :P Thank you!



Quite apart from the fact that in this sentence, 'meditated' is easy to misread as 'medicated' (which is what I did in fact)... it's also the wrong tense.

Thanks for pointing that out!


I want more information/detail on what an 'urhan' form is. Also, I'm curious as to why Emile went wolf?

I'll put this in the story in some form as well as here, to help you understand. And thank you!

Basically, all Werewolves can change their bodies into five different forms. They can either spend essence - which you gain in various ways - to shift instantly, or they can 'go through' all five forms to get to their chosen one. The two 'between' forms are the hardest to shift into without essence - Dalu and Urshul. The sizes I give aren't exact, as it's based on the size of the Werewolf, really. So Emile is rather small as a Wolf because he's small as a person ^^ The different forms are;

Hishu - The basic human, really. You wouldn't know he was a Werewolf like this, he looks like an everyday human :P

Dalu - You grow a little in height, bulk out with muscle, get a lot hairier, your teeth and nails grow longer, and you gain better senses. You can still pass as a human without freaking people out as some of the other forms do (it causes madness basically, which makes people not able - except in rare circumstances - to remember what has happened) and this is the form most Werewolves take if they need a bit extra muscle without freaking people out.

Gauru - Imagine a 9 foot walking death machine like the Werewolves from Van Hellsing or the like. You're a powerhouse, you're angry, and you want to murder everything in this form. You have a high chance of entering a Death Frenzy in extreme stress which makes you either flip out and tear everything to peices, or do anything to get away from the threat - and this is the form you do it in. People who see this freak out to the extreme, and in certain cases can cause literal madness. This is the form Werewolves take when they want something dead - mostly. Explained later! :D

Urshul - Imagine a Wolf almost as tall as a person, and you've just about got it. They have big teeth, they're fast and very, very nasty. They have the biggest bite out of all of the forms, and this is the form Emile prefers to fight in, rather than Dalu with weapons or Gauru. You'll see that in the second part of the story.

Urhan - Basically, a normal wolf. Depending on where a Werewolf is born depends on how this Wolf looks, but it IS always a Wolf. You won't mistake it for a dog unless you dunno what a Wolf is. :P

And this finally brings us to why Emile took Urhan - because he feels safer in it. Not only does he have much better senses than the rest of his pack who are in Hishu form, but he has very easy access to Urshul incase things go bad. Some Werewolves feel better in certain forms, depending on preference. You need, IC, a certain number of successes to assume each form. If you start at Hishu and want Urshul, for example, you'd need to get a sucsess on each form in between to pass by it. Emile used a point of essence to hit Urhan so if he had to, he could go into his main fighting form Urshul in a matter of seconds - or, in game terms, one good roll. :3 This also ties into the fact he never - ever, as far as I remember - took Hishu or Gauru unless he had to do so with no other choice.

And honestly, he's a cute puppy. :P



I like this - quite apart from the fact Ross is clearly a smartass... I like the way you casually drop what I assume is his title (Rahu) into the sentence. Here is doesn't need to be explained so much, because it's not that important to the story. I want 'urhan' above explained because it's clear that these guys are werewolves, so what on earth is 'urhan'? is it a specific type of wolf? a specific form they can assume? this is kind of important to know.

I apologize for this again, I wasn't sure how to drop it in without making it seem tacked on. See above for an explanation! :D Sorry if it's a bit large, I tend to get carried away helping people understand c:



Why is she calling him 'Sir'? Is it something Rachel just does? or is Alexander supposed to be a sir? In which case, he should have introduced himself as 'Sir Alexander Belmont'. If it's just an honourific like sir/ma'am then it shouldn't be capitalised, or linked to the guy's surname. It'd either be "... sir." end of sentence, or "... Mr. Belmont."

It's a Rachel thing. Her moon-sign, as the natural mediators and pack 'face' if you will, tend to be respectful and gifted with a silver tongue. Alexander isn't at all important in the Vampire scheme of things - or he is, but not to his Prince - but Rachel is trying to basically play up to his ego and keep things calm. It doesn't go well. But thank you! <3



I assume you mean silver the metal as it's dangerous to werewolves? I love the idea that they can smell it, fascinating :smallsmile: having said that, if that's the case, don't capitalise it. It's a bad thing, obviously, but it's not a name or pronoun so doesn't need to be capitalised. In fact the way you've written it says that they've brought a person whose name is Silver to the meeting.

Very much the metal, yes. :D Silver is utterly horrendous when used on Werewolves. It is a sin for another Werewolf to use it on one of their own, but other species have no such qualms.

I love the last line - you can just hear the disbelieving 'idiots!' :smallbiggrin:

That was our reaction, actually, OOC! :D But yes, it only gets worse!


Thank you very much for the critique! Second part should be up later today or tommorow :3

mebecronck
2012-09-04, 08:49 AM
@SleepyShadow
YOU'RE BREAKING THE FOURTH WALL! ... not that it bothers me, mind you. It is sometimes interesting and even funny to have the fourth wall broken. I also didn't catch any of the previous installments, so, as far as I know, this might be common.

@Lord_Gareth
This was a very good "Start" Wars snippet. Never heard of "Start" Wars before, but it seems like an obvious rip-off of Star Wars.

*behind the keyboard* "You see what I did there guys. He made an small typo and I made fun of it" (stupid laughter erupts within room, akin to that of Beavis and Butthead.)

I wouldn't say to avoid combat snippets in the future. This was very well written. I enjoyed it. At the end however. The ... broken ... speech ... of the ... character ... Syra ... made ... me ... think ... of ... Captain Kirk .... until ... I got tired of reading it like that, then started to ignore the "..." all together.

@Mabs
Oh, come one. The silver was a fashion choice. Who doesn't go out on the town in formal attire without their silver rings, silver necklaces, silver ear rings, silver daggers, silver nightsticks, and silver bullets with matching silver guns. See, the werewolves are just jumping to conclusions.

@Lady Moreta



That sounds delightfully creepy :smallbiggrin:

The party believed this to mean that the Obelisk was claimed for an evil god. They didn't know that this is just what they looked like when claimed in general.



I am disappointed to hear it. I'd love to see a snippet about a group trying to get out of the treasure room and failing. Sounds like it'd be fun :smallbiggrin:

For a while, when the party was small, I introduced a DMPC (tiefling rogue) with the intent of encouraging them to try. They were adamant on their stance of "no touching the treasure - at all".



I love that you called him Jeeves. I like this concept - someone to give a little help, but not too much.
Sadly, they never really used him that much. All they really did with him was, "Elevator, going down." ... in later Obelisks they just skipped roleplay in the chamber room all together, "Let's get on with the trials.



I like this too. I appreciate that you've given your players somewhere to get healing if they need it. My own DM has done much the same thing through our npc paladin... none of us are healers in any way whatsoever, and while we've all got healing belts, at the level we are now (17ish) they just don't cut it. Having a paladin-healer on hand is much appreciated.
The team needed more help later on. In Winds last entry, he first introduced the DMPC Healer. I added her in because I noticed a common trend of, "Fight, long rest, Fight, long rest, etc."



Good call. I'm not going to show this to my husband (who is also my DM), because I don't want him to get ideas. He gets enough of those on his own :smalltongue:
Sometimes they were great ideas, other times they failed miserably. Our group met on April Fools Day, and it was a trial scheduled for that day. So I introduced the April Fools Monster. Rails Fopol, a monster that is invincible until you find out his real name. He was a three headed ogre, each head was the head of one of the Marx Brothers, with an enchanted horn that does sonic damage, and an enchanted cigar which does fire damage. He also had the magical ability to incite bouts of uncontrollable laughter.

It failed miserably, it took forever for them to discover his name was April Fools mixed up. It became annoying instead of funny.


@Lady Moreta - You read mine. So I will read yours.

Grammar check.

Uncle Norchan had taken one look and immediately realised he must have been pushed or throw from our apartments above.
... or thrown ...


He and I were to travel back to Celadia together and he had been surprisingly easy-going about my dragging my feet.
... about me dragging my feet.

That is all I saw. I always appreciate it whenever someone points out my misspellings or improper grammar. I try to give the same courtesy to others.

My Thoughts

I like the whole thing. I couldn't pick out individual points that I liked more than others, but I was deep enough in it that, when interrupted, it annoyed me.

"I will help you unload the car, later, I'm reading."

(I did not actually say this, and I did stop reading to help unload the car [new baby stuff] ... but I did think it.)

I do have a prediction, however, ....

*pause for dramatic effect*

... I think Uncle Norchan killed Calia's father. First witness is first suspect after all. He didn't have the heart to kill Calia, too. So, he instead sends her away; with hopes that she will not return. Possibly killed in her new profession, maybe.

Perhaps ... just perhaps ... the butler did it.

"How DARE you, Jeeves!"

SleepyShadow
2012-09-04, 10:01 AM
YOU'RE BREAKING THE FOURTH WALL! ... not that it bothers me, mind you. It is sometimes interesting and even funny to have the fourth wall broken. I also didn't catch any of the previous installments, so, as far as I know, this might be common.

Very common. It has been quite the running gag.

Dr Bwaa
2012-09-04, 12:02 PM
Dear jegus I go visit my family for a week and there's a brazillian new things to read. brb, gonna type until my eyes bleed.

But before I go, @mebecronck I love background world-building stuff. As long as you keep writing it, I'll keep reading it.

SleepyShadow
2012-09-04, 01:39 PM
Dear jegus I go visit my family for a week and there's a brazillian new things to read.

A Brazilian new things, huh?

:biggrin:

HUE HUE HUE HUE

Sorry, couldn't resist :smalltongue:

Winds
2012-09-04, 03:07 PM
@Lady Moreta c/the party leaving the gold


Both in character and out, it seemed...unwise. (And when it seems unwise to someone who made a deal with the devils by mistake...)

1. Let's see. 50 metric ****-tons of coins and gems, in the first room of a devise/demesne built to be able to collocate with a god's home plane without permission. I vote we leave the very likely guarded trove alone.

2. Also...the devils mentioned before are trying to claim these as fast as we are. Clearly, the thing to do is spend months clearing it out, and thereby give them a head start.

3. This realm doesn't use this stuff as currency. What good is it going to do us, given that no-one wants it?

So, that's the IC and OOC reasoning.


Now...I've done okay with the journal style. It's still going to be the overall frame, but I'm shifting to a more direct account to help keep things clear.

Note: This is...not a pleasant one. If I do a good job of writing it, it will not appeal to the claustrophobic, among others.

Earning trust

or: Only half-prepared


So. The half-celestial girl, Jessica. She's a very good healer, as I would find out several times later. I thought the warlock skill I learned to bind my wounds was cool, but she made it fairly pointless in short order.

Not a complaint, mind you. Better to have and not need, and so on...

Her motives made little sense to me. I'm a terrible at reading people, but I feel like there's something she hasn't mentioned...No one just goes out facing beings that can kill ordinary humans with a glance just because they want to do good. Particularly her, a complete pacifist. But whatever. I'm not telling them everything I know yet, either.

So, we passed the first rooms with the usual lack of difficulty.

Oddly enough, I'm the only one of us carrying any money for the tithe. I wonder what happens when I run out...Problem for later, I suppose.


The first room of tests was simple enough. Two doors, one with the usual portal, one with a library.

So of course we looked in there first. A library used by someone who built a tower like this could have some useful information...

Not a whole lot, actually. Mostly history and alchemy and planar research. Most of it in languages we couldn't read, and the ones we could were things we knew about. Save one amusing example...A book written by Cronc, of all people. Turns out I misspelled his name. Whatever difference one letter makes, anyway. Kol found the book, of course. Must be nice to have vision that strong...

"Cronc's one way to smash...Only one page. It just says 'Cronc SMASH!'...no wonder it was gathering dust."

I had to smile at that. "He didn't strike me as the literary type..."

"Wait...you guys met Uncle Cronc?"

Yes, Jessica refers to that monster of a half-orc as uncle. I didn't ask.

Kol was amused enough by the book to keep it. The only thing really use use was locked in a case. The books inside were quite magical. I even recognized them-part of a series of tomes that boosted the mental or physical abilites of the person that read them. The problem was the case-it was locked, and likely protected. A pity.

So, we moved on to the challenge. Either the designer was a cruel man, or he had a twisted sense of humor...the terrain on the other side didn't bother me or Jessica. Kol and Aileph, however...

Let's just say the Elemental Plane of Air is hard on those without the power of flight.

I caught Kol, Jessica caught Aileph. It surprised me...I have the advantage of magical flight. I wouldn't have thought a slim girl like her would be able to support both herself and the plate-armored paladin...but she did.

Note to self. If one of her kind picks a fight, I'm going to stay well clear.

Anyway, the challenge. Several reptilian, flying creatures. They didn't mean to eat. That was, as we would learn, the only method of combat they knew.

"Kalach, I fight better on the move!"

"Right, fine."

One shot. We managed one shot before they interrupted us.

It was not a pleasant process. I felt my lower body getting engulfed by the creature, then my arm jarring against it's jaw...the shock caused me to drop Kol, but that was the least of my concerns. Feeling the muscles close around me...the sickly *gluck* noise as it swallowed me. I've known worse, but repetition doesn't make it less of a horror.

Being inside that thing's belly...the acids of it's stomach couldn't harm me. The fell energies that fill me make fire and acid easier to deal with, and my body can't be hurt easily. But that thing was strong. I could barely move my hands well enough to form the focusing runes for my blasts, and it even pressed on my head hard enough to make speaking the accompanying words a challenge. I tried to climb out several times, to no avail...the thing was just stronger than me.

Still. I am a warlock, an arcanist whose destructive potential is unrivaled by any other. I was not going to let an overgrown lizard beat me.

My usual acid blasts won't help here. Let's try...

"RIME!"

It shuddered at that. I tried again to get out while it was weakened b the cold, but...no dice.

You wanna keep me in that bad? FINE! I'LL SLAY YOU FIRST!

"SMITE!"

That did it. The frost and the force weakened it enough for me to escape. I kept focused on that one. The others were flying around too much for me to shoot them well, anyway. Of course, me erstwhile captor tried to get me again. But my flight is born of my will. This thing faster than me-but it wasn't smart or agile enough to handle me rising or dropping to avoid its dive. So it went..we got them all eventually, and were returned to the hall.

The simulacrum called Jeeves helpfully informed us that, by the tower's clock, it was noon, so the table had been set. The food was...enhanced, somehow. It healed my body completely...and Jessica mentioned that it had restored her spent spellpower. Quite useful...though not for me. Drawing my power directly from the Nine does have its advantages.

The pedestal room awaited...though we had a challenge ahead, still. We found several...I assume sorceresses, but I only knew they were arcane in power. And several liches. All frozen in time. While I probed with my magic senses, Jessica and Kol wandered off...and returned with some powder.

"Hey Kalach, can you tell what this is?"

"...No."

"Oh. I, um...Why don't I try pouring it on these ladies?"

Yeah, bad idea. But I hadn't the least idea of what to do, so I let her do it...

Dr Bwaa
2012-09-04, 04:24 PM
Hue hue hue #1 morde NA.
...I do my best to entertain. Besides, brazillian is a great number. :smalltongue:

Anyway, here goes nothing!

@Lady Moreta

In fact, the only thing I had going for me, right from birth, was my twin brother – Lukas. Even when we were kids, right up to the point our parents kicked us out – he looked after me, protected me. I’ve heard the snide comments, seen the sly looks, ignored the innuendo – when people hear that I live in an apartment with my brother…

I think you're overdoing the dashes a bit (I know how you like them). I think the last one is the only place it's really justified. The same goes for later on; the next paragraph alone has five!


Our parents were SINners

Okay; now you've repeated it and I'm forced to wonder if the first one (the end of the first line) should be written this way too, if the speaker always uses this emphasis (of course, see my comments later...)


living in a too-small apartment under fake SINs.

Well now I just don't know what to do with myself. Clearly looks like a setting thing at this point, but this makes me confused about the term "SINners".


And if I one day broke that promise – just remember – all of us here are SINless, but as I said earlier, none of us are sinless.

Aaaaahhh! I would like this a lot more if I understood what was going on.


He was eight the first time he got into a fight to protect me, 14 the first time he used a knife, and 16 the first time he shot a man – again, to protect me.

The rules for numerals in text are general at best, but when you have one in a sentence that stands out, it's usually good to try to interpret the rules to make them all the same. Here I'd go with "spell out all one-word numbers", since that lets you spell out all the numbers instead of spelling one and numeralizing two, while preserving "spell numbers under ten". Also the actual reason I quoted the paragraph is that I think "We were" at the start gives a more effective feeling, as well as reminding the reader that you're twins. Speaking of which, there's probably more you could do with that fact in general. I'm not saying go all-out cliche city on the twin thing, but you could play around with a couple particular similarities between them; that sort of thing (you've already got them as each other's most important relationship, which is good).


I was already notorious for being someone you didn’t want to cross DASH if it wasn’t your fault, it would be by the time I was done talking.

You definitely need something in there where I subtly added my suggestion.


I became proficient – or semi-proficient in as many languages as I could find someone to teach me.

This dash, though (the first one) really doesn't work. You either need another one after "semi-proficient", which looks really awkward to me, or just take the first one out altogether.


It was all for the benefit of others, but ultimately, it was for the benefit of me and my brother.

Eh? I think I understand what you're trying to say--in that she's basically being a diplomat, so she's technically helping people, but at the end of the day it's just a job. I think this could be phrased better though.


At 18, I learned that there is one thing a pretty girl has that is more valuable than her ability to broker a deal or arrange a truce. And at 19, I learned it was a price I was willing to pay.

Very suggestive of the age gap here. You could elaborate on how that came about or leave it to the reader's imagination; either works I think.


For Lukas. Always for Lukas.

Kind of a weird transition from sad/sweet to sad/creepy, in my opinion, but I don't know that that's bad thing. Just... a kind of creepy thing.


And times were hard and we needed the money (desperately needed the money), so I said yes.

We see them needing money a lot, but rarely spending it. Especially in a paragraph starting with them hoarding money, this desperation comes as a bit of a surprise.


It didn’t take long to find out.

Nothing happened for two weeks

Kind of weird. The timeframe is fine--two weeks certainly isn't long--but "...it didn't take long. Nothing happened..." is a bizarre thing to say.


I was pretty sure what I was about to do meant I’d never see heaven – or purgatory.

I think "- or even purgatory" is a little nicer here.


him

I think this is done well.


I was no longer the innocent, virtuous little sister he remembered.

Metaphorical at best, no?


Can the same be said for you?

I like this, and I don't. It's a good tie-in to the opening line, but we've had no other real interaction with the reader in the intervening time besides a couple of partial references. Leonora's storytelling tone is very good and very consistent, but her talking-to-the-reader tone isn't very developed, so this line ends up feeling a bit surprising.


I liked this a lot. Very good dark voice. And as usual when people post great snippets from settings I haven't played I just end up wishing I had a steady group within 2000 miles. *le sigh*


@Winds
The Game

Make the guardian half maniacal murder-child, and half blinkered innocent. Wonderful idea.

Ehehehe. Nice sentiment; great phrasing.


In the end, we settled on a 'game'. Yang will spend three days and nights hunting us through the mirror side of the city. If we survived that long, she will agree to open the tower door. She will do her best to kill us. This is complicated for several reasons. One, half the city belongs to her outright. Two, she needs no rest. Three, she knows the location of anyone in the city, even in Yin's territory. Note to self: Try to avoid fighting beings on their own demesne next time...

The tenses here are really, really weird, even within sentences ("If we survived that long, she will..."). Otherwise this is very smooth exposition.


We acted out parts of books she liked. One called 'Through the Looking-Glass', mostly.

:smalleek: One can only imagine the hilarity... Great choice of books.


More amusingly, the paladin summoned his celestial steed...to play a part we were missing...

Awesome.


but the third day she kicked in the door. It hit me in the face. I did try fighting her, but my shots didn't really do anything.

Finally, we got though it.

Eh? This needs more explanation; by all rights it sounds like Kalach (at least) should be toast, if Yang "is likely powerful enough to slay us all in a straight fight."


The door closed behind us, we went down on the moving platform...

I agree with the Lady here; this reads too fast and I lose the shape of the scene. Spend a bit more time.


the paladin cast his gaze on me. My own magic senses told me he had done so, right before he started yelling...

Never good. Also, I didn't realize paladins could stop yelling.


That got him thinking.

It did? Very open-minded paladin you've got here.


He said lately it could inform you what your patron deity would think of a given course of action.

This seems weird/out-of-place. Are you using "lately" as "eventually"? "Recently"? The context is unclear.


Transgress, and I will smite you.

Lol.


I don't believe it...

Me neither, but more interesting perhaps is how your paladin reacted. Implicit trust because celestial? Detect Evil because Paladin? This is a good opportunity to show us something about the other characters.


Earning Trust

She's a very good healer, as I would find out several times later.

I know you're technically leaving the journal form behind, but I don't think the "I would find out later" thing works here. Until you have an actual example, you might as well not bother talking about it, even if you're not restricted by your chosen format. And if you do have an example, why aren't you using it? I think it's also worth noticing that this is pretty much the only place that this snippet deviates from the journal style you've been going with; I don't think it's really necessary.


Her motives made little sense to me. I'm a terrible at reading people, but I feel like there's something she hasn't mentioned

You've got an extra "a" in the second sentence, and you're encountering tense problems.


No one just goes out facing beings that can kill ordinary humans with a glance just because they want to do good. Particularly her, a complete pacifist.

This is still Kalach narrating (yes?), and he's not a guy to mince words. I think this could be restructured a bit to preserve his voice a little more: "people" instead of "ordinary humans"; "No one... particularly adamant pacificts." etc.


So, we passed the first rooms with the usual lack of difficulty.

Lol.


Oddly enough, I'm the only one of us carrying any money. I wonder what happens when I run out...Problem for later, I suppose.

I think this belongs in the previous paragraph--he's referring to the tithe, yes?


"Cronc's one way to smash...Only one page. It just says 'Cronc SMASH!'"

Hahahaha. Best book ever.


Yes, Jessica refers to that monster of a half-orc as uncle. I didn't ask.

:smalleek: I guess that's possible... screwed up families ahoy.


it was locked, and likely protected.

"Protected" is unclear here. Presumably you mean magically protected or trapped through other means besides the lock, or some such? As is it just looks redundant; either take it out or elaborate.


If one of her kind picks a fight, I'm going to stay well clear.

Yeah, seriously.


That was, as we would learn, their only method of combat they knew.

*"That was the only method of combat they knew". Also, pretty funny.


It was not a pleasant process. I felt my lower body getting engulfed by the creature, then my arm jarring against it's jaw...the shock caused me to drop Kol, but that was the least of my concerns. Feeling the muscles close around me...the sickly *gluck* noise as it swallowed me. I've known worse, but repetition doesn't make it less of a horror.

Nice description (I love "*gluck*), with one thing missing--no teeth? If these are some kind of strange toothless flying lizards that's important to tell the reader; otherwise I get here all confused because I expect teeth.


the acids of it's stomach

No apostrophe on "its".


I tried to climb out several times

Ewwwwww.


The simulacrum called Jeeves helpfully informed us that, by the tower's clock, it was noon, so the table had been set.

Hahaha. I like this description. I actually like this part of the whole tower situation a lot, where various parts feel like they're sub-metagame constructs of some kind, like Jeeves.


Jessica mentioned that it had restored her lost spellpower.

Probably "spent" spellpower is better here than "lost", which makes it sound rather a lot like something took it from her and I did a double-take and started rereading before I realized what you meant.


"Oh. I, um...Why don't I try pouring it on these ladies?"

Oh my.


Yeah, bad idea.

You don't say? Love this snippet; fun fight (swallow-whole is always entertaining) and nice exposition. My only comment (okay obviously not my only comment but shut up) would be that, if you're really going to move away from the journal format, you should do something with that fact--let us see something that we wouldn't see in the journal. I'm really wanting more development of the other characters, since at this point I have only a vague sense of their personalities; their values; etc.



@Drowlord
First, I feel compelled to mention that I almost always spell your name "Drowloard". I don't know why. I do think it's pretty funny though.

Second,


I haven't gone, just laboriously typing up a massive post up. It should be up by Monday, at worst.

Good to hear it!It's Tuesday.




@SleepyShadow

Lupin slowly opened his eyes

Knowing what just happened, and even without, I want to see what he sees here.


He found himself laying on a theater bench

*lying (or "laid out"). You lie down; you lay other things down.


All ya'll done got trounced by that there Frank fella

Did she have the accent before? I don't remember it.


"Lucy, honey, have ya caught all them sparkle fairies yet?"

The cat girl poked her head over the balcony railing, a deep frown on her lips. "I'm sorry Sara, I can't find them!"

Hahahaha. Good catgirl; best character.


"but Lucy's pestering was giving me more of a headache than an indoor kobold concert on a hot summer day when I ain't got no booze."

Sounds like quite a headache. Sara's metaphors are hilarious. I think the beginning of this could be phrased a little more naturally, though. That southern sort of dialect is nothing if not laid-back and natural; "was giving me more of a headache than" feels pretty choppy by comparison. I was thinking something more like "That gal's worse'n an indoor kobold concert... etc".


"You get all of your stuff back at the end of the battle."

Funny line, but weird in context. Where did his stuff go? Also, we find out in a moment that the battle is over, so why is this in the present tense?


"Since gnomes make awesome steampunk toys." Lupin answered with a sagely nod.

The contrast here is hilarious. I love it.


smacking Lupin repeatedly in the face with her long pink hair.

Wonderful imagery. Poor halflings.


"Nuh-uh. Not until you buy me that airship like you promised."

Ahahaha. The best part here is how you communicate the past so explicitly by only alluding to it. You can picture the whole scene, with Lupin promising to buy her an airship at some unspecified to time get her to shut up/do as she's told.


Jonathan Long's office

How do they know where this is? Was it in the book? The book is sort of generally mysterious to the reader still; it's unclear where it is or what kind of information it contains.


his large leather chair rocking back and forth slightly of its own accord.

He's (presumably) sitting in it--how can you tell he's not rocking it?


"We found a hidden chamber beneath The Paradise Theater, and inside we found a book about the Sound and Light club. We found your name mentioned in the book as one of its members."

"My master has the Slayer's sister hostage at the Bronze because she summoned him and at midnight he's going to take her to the underworld to be his queen." Subtlety, thy name is Derive.


Mr. Long looked at her with mild curiosity. "Frank ... ?"

Hehe yeeeesssss. Wow it turns out all NPCs don't automatically know each other by first name!


"Every good mystery has its fair share of red herrings."

"Like Communism?" Lucy asked.

I've got to stop reading this stuff at work; I'm getting funny looks. Great reference.


Lupin and Derive stared at her as if she had lobsters crawling out of her ears.

WOW that's vivid! Love it love it love it.


All ya'll oughta come take a gander at these here photos I found in that there cellar down there."

You're maybe overdoing it a touch here. Also (and this goes for earlier as well), it's not my dialect but I'm pretty sure "all y'all" is reserved for rather large groups, with "y'all" being more appropriate for talking to smaller groups (such as here).


tugged on Derive's pant leg

I like the constant subtle reminders that he's a halfling. It makes for nice attention to detail.

Good chapter overall--you mask your exposition well (funny for the fourth-wall-breaking genre you write in).


@Lord_Gareth

Master Skywalker founded the order again

I'd probably go with "refounded the order".


but I am shamed to say that in my sheer relief I did not notice what she had so clearly picked up.

This is a nice line; your foreshadowing just keeps on building.


Then, just as we passed the threshold into the storage room that contained the supposed error, Syra leaped back with a startled cry. Just as we turned to see what was amiss, a force field cut off our access to the outside world, leaving Syra in the small circular room we'd just left. Syra turned away from us

Lot of repetition here. Also, I have the same complaints as the good Lady--the sequence of events is either unclear or unintuitive, or both.


"What, precisely, is that?"

This is weird. Why is the speaker questioning what Syra has learned? Up to this point it's been my impression that the two of them were on relatively equal footing, though Syra's maybe a touch older or more experienced (if they share the same master but she was his first).


Since I'd known her, Syra had contrived to skip or otherwise avoid learning mastery of the Force.

Hmm. Strange and a bit unnerving; good fact here. The question I'm left with, though, is not "how does she spend her time?", but "how does the council allow this to happen?"


Though her potential was in no way undiminished

*diminished, I think.


the sound of saber on whip made an electric snap! that was blinding and bright.

A couple weird things here. You've got a sound making a sound, which is described visually. Also, "bright" is an awfully weak adjective to pair with "blinding".


she was turning blue from holding her breath.

Ahh, right. I think a note of there being no noise specifically from her mask (when she goes to darkness) would help to make that moment less confusing. As it was, I read it and was stuck just wondering why she took her mask off.


When the Sith arched an eyebrow, Syra shrugged. "You...can...always...escape...later."

Syra is a very strange girl. This is a very interesting conversation.


Recognizing that this was all the thanks she was going to get, Syra turned and walked away, and with nowhere else to go, I followed.

Why does the speaker have nowhere else to go? Or does he just not know what else to do? What's his reaction to the conversation he just witnessed?

I liked this; your battle was excellent as usual. I didn't think the perspective issue was too bad, though I wish we'd learned a bit more about the speaker. One of the advantages of first-person is that we get emotions and so on from one perspective, and a unique characterization of events through the senses of one of the characters. It would have been nice, during the battle for instance, to get some reactions from the party on the wrong side of the force field.


@Mabs
Welcome! Does this mean this thread has now inspired at least one person to make an account? Sweeeeeet. I wonder if I get a referral bonus (one month of free membership awwww yeeaaaaa). If you've been lurking you've probably seen my disclaimer before, but here it is again: if you don't want my to critique your work, or if there's something in particular you want me to focus on, let me know!


Stupid bloodsucking ****s.

I doubt the mods are going to come around and yell at you for bad language in snippets, but the filter is kind of a pain (as a writer I mean; when reading it's pretty clear what you're doing.) I tend to use the GitP filter as an excuse to come up with new curse-expressions, since I tend not to do it in my writing even though it's a good strategy for setting-building. Of course you're in a modern setting, so that doesn't apply much here. I don't know what this comment was trying to say anymore; I'm going to move on.


The large thickly built bald African-American

Good description; I think you could lose the "large" and add some commas though.


at only fourteen any normal human teenager would be entering a whole world of mood swings and other such wonders.

Heheh. I almost want Rex to go into a touch more detail about this. He's got a sarcastic tone that's entertaining to read in a narration.


No, all of the pack – though only four – where still hurting over the loss of Amelia.

*were. Also, Emile and Amelia? Aghh. Glad she's dead.


a smile that could work wonders for everyone’s moral and happiness.

*morale. Morals are the things you learn from fables.


“Why are we playing nice, Rex? We should be ripping out their ****ing throats, not agreeing to meet them so they can stroke their ****ing ego-” Emile snarled out but was cut off by another, the woman sitting in the passenger seat to Rex.

The placement of the identifier is a little strange; putting "Emile" right next to the "ego-" makes it feel almost like he's cutting himself off. Better to introduce the speaker first, then have him speak, then let the woman cut him off. eg. something like "Emile snarled. 'Why are we playing nice, etc...stroke their bleeping ego--' The woman in the passenger seat turned and cut him off."


I know you’re hurting over loosing Amelia.

*losing. Loosing means "releasing".


There was silence as the jeep turned into a small side street

This is a really good dead moment in the conversation. It's hard to communicate this sort of feeling; you do a good job here.


perhaps on queue the final member of the pack spoke up.

*cue. A queue is a (waiting) line. Also I just realized Lady Moreta already hit on a bunch of these wrong-word things. Oh well; I'll stop repeating things she said now I guess :smalltongue: Just assume I agree with all her comments and have the same complaints!


Bring all the cheap shades and fancy suits they want.” Ross said, the man running a hand through his bright pink Mohawk as he flashed a wide confident grin, nestling back into the seat.

Cheap shades and fancy suits-- awesome characterization of the other players in this situation. The period at the end of the quote should be a comma though, as the sentence continues beyond the actual quoted stuff.


This place was on the fringes of their territory, but still very much inside it

Again, very good atmosphere setting. Not so explicit as to be annoying, but just enough to communicate something about the world.


looked to have bought their clothes from the same store as the leader.

Haha, awesome.


a revealing red dress with matching high-heels

This forces me to assume that she's wearing revealing high heels. None of the ways I can picture that are sensible, but some of them are pretty funny.


He padded up beside Rex with a soft rumble, before as one the pack crossed the ground between themselves and the Vampires until the two groups stood not fifteen feet apart from one another.

Kind of long and kind of awkward phrasing. I think if you split this sentence up and reorganize it a bit it'll flow much better. As Lady Moreta mentioned, you actually do this a lot throughout the snippet--on average, you could make your sentences a little shorter and things would be much smoother. In this particular moment, you could actually make crossing that distance take a little longer, and be more descriptive--it's a tense moment; dragging out the prose would add to that tension.


Rex didn’t miss the fact he was showing off.

What's he showing off? His sunglasses? His nose?


“Traffic was a nightmare.” The Rahu replied with a cocky smirk; Emile snorted and trotted up beside his friend, eyes never leaving any of the Kindred facing them.

Again, this ought to be a comma at the end of the quote. There's also no reason for that semicolon; just make a new sentence.


your... pack.” He forced the word out as though saying it would make him gag.

Nice.


who weren’t taking a bit of notice to what was going on.

Rather than saying this outright, describe what they're doing instead. Looking around, checking the time, clipping fingernails, drinking a baby with a straw...


They’d brought Silver to a diplomatic meeting.

Ahhhhh, well this will definitely go well. I don't expect there will be any violence in part two :smallbiggrin:

Very nice snippet; I like that you took the time to give real descriptions of all the players. I'm looking forward to getting to know them more (and definitely looking forward to seeing what happens at this "diplomatic meeting"...


@mebecronck
I'm not going to hit you with a real critique of your writing, since it's not really a snippet, unless you ask for one. I will, however, say one thing and demand one thing. I will say that I really enjoy reading this background detail that Kalach isn't privy to and therefore never comes out in his journal. And I will demand that you write us some snippets, because your writing is clearly good and I want to see more of it.

Drowlord
2012-09-04, 05:30 PM
Yeah. Just too big; it keeps crashing my iPad. I will just edit the post now. Most of your suggestions will be accounted for. Accursed days getting away from me!:smalltongue:

Mabs
2012-09-04, 05:34 PM
@ Dr Bwaa - No! Thank you for doing what you do and I'll take it all into consideration! I apologize for not answering post-by-post but it's very late and I need sleep. I'll do so tommorow and hope you like this next installment too! I apologize for not editing out the swearing, as there is a lot, but again it's very late and I just wanna get this up for people to read :D

Of Wolf And Man 2
Or; never annoy the furry guys.


Rex’s eyes flashed between the woman and the other man once more, who flicked his cigarette away with a smirk. The redhead’s dress rode up enough to show a flash of a knife sheathe; the male having a noticeable bulge in his jacket. Ross and Rex immediately reacted; their body’s changing and warping, growing taller and filling out with extra muscle. Hair grew where they had been none before, or existing hair thickened. Features grew angled; teeth grew to fangs and nails to claws, ears tapered into points. Dalu form – not quite their strongest form, but certainly not fully human – that much was clear as day. As one the pair moved to shield Rachel, who did not budge from her Hishu form. Emile snarled louder as he moved with them, standing just in front of them, head low and drool dripping from between his teeth.

“You brought Silver to a diplomatic meeting.” Rachel spoke softly – deadly soft. Predatory, dangerous, so low one could hardly hear it over Emile’s snarling. “The agreement was that there was to be no weapons that could seriously harm.” Her lips hardened, looking rather fearsome herself despite being sandwiched between Ross and Rex, both of whom looked seething – furious. If not for Rachel, they would have already attacked, to speak nothing of Emile.

Alistair sneered confidently at the pack. “How could we trust a bunch of Mutts like you to keep up your end of the deal, hm? We needed insurance. So here’s how this is going to go-”

Ross snarled, fingers curling into fight fists, his muscles bulging as he stared down at the man like he was an ant. “No, I’ll tell you how this is going to go, you fairy ****er.” He snarled, his voice coming out as a growl due to his Dalu vocal chords. Rex didn’t even try to stop him. “We’re going to rip you all a new ****ing ******* for what you did, and you’re going to bend over and damn well take it. You can try and stop us, use all the ****ing silver in the ****ing world and it will not do you jack-****ing-**** you undead **** sucking bitches.”

Rex flashed a grin at those words, and even Rachel smirked just a little. The vampire looked furious themselves at those words, and in a flash had drawn his large, ornate gun – and then all hell broke loose. With a bellow Ross hurled himself at Alistair with enough speed and power that he didn’t have time to pull the trigger. The Uratha bulled the Vampire to the ground with a smashed the gun out of his grip, grinning ferociously at the creature as the firearm went bouncing off into the darkness.

“C’mon fairy, fight!” Ross sneered through fangs as his hands wrapped around the Vampire’s collar and in one swift motion he rose and hurled the vampire into the limo they had arrived in. The impact was hard enough to rock the limo and dent the metal with a crunch; Alistair slumped down against the hood, dazed for a few brief seconds as Ross advanced on him, cracking his knuckles.

Jane was staring down a snarling Emile, a savage joyful grin on her lips as she drew her small knife, spinning it in her fingers. “Come here, puppy. You’ve been a bad dog.” She sneered in a thick Russian accent, her hair blowing in the breeze as she completely ignored what was going on around her. Emile seemed to grin as his body shifted; his overall shape stayed the same but he grew larger until he was four feet at the shoulder, his fur growing thicker as he put on far more muscle than he had in Urhan – he was built like a tank; the nails he had in Urhan becoming large knife-like claws; his head becoming larger and thicker like that of a pit bull, his jaws parting wider as he snarled louder, tongue flashing out over monstrous bone-crushing teeth. He was to Urhan what Dalu was to Hishu; Urshal, a giant wolf straight out of nightmare. He crouched down, massive haunches tensing to spring.

Jane’s eyes widened as she backed away, her fingers closing tight around the knife. No more fancy tricks; she certainly hadn’t been expecting that. She gave her companion’s once last glance before she turned and ran towards the limo. Emile howled as he lunged after her, heavy paws crushing the grass as he ran her down. In her panic she leapt onto the limo with supernatural grace; her high heels not being suited to such a task snapped and skittered out from under her. She landed hard on her front and pushed herself to her hands and knees just in time for Emile to pick up speed and lunge, clearing the limo with ease and ploughing into her with the force of a truck and knocking her off the top and onto the grass out of sight. It took but seconds for her to start screaming in agony, accompanied by the sounds of bone being crushed and Emile’s ferocious snarls.

“**** that whore up, Emile!” Ross called to his pack mate, roaring with laughter as his mammoth fists pummelled Alistair’s face into pulp. The fairy had got in a few good blows, but his enhanced healing had taken care of that in seconds. Ross almost felt cheated as he lifted up the crippled vampire with almost no effort and slammed him across his knee, shattering his spine and tossing him to the side; pausing a moment to lift his heavy working boot and stamp the bloodsuckers skull until it burst like a watermelon. The Uratha grinned at his work and turned to assist Rex and Rachel with Alexander.

Alexander was far more agile and strong than they’d first thought; he swayed aside from Rex’s hammer blows and lashed out at an Urhan-formed Rachel when she went in to bite for his legs. He’d cut Rex across his chest with a small silver dagger; the wound stung like hell but wasn’t fatal – he pushed himself to heal it even as he kept fighting. It was only through sheer weight of attacks that they kept Alexander off balance, but they’d backed him up a good distance towards the limo.

“**** this.” Ross grunted and closed his eyes; letting all of the anger he felt wash over him. His muscles grew and grew, his fingers elongated even more into wicked claws that could disembowel a man in a casual swipe, his legs snapped and reformed effortlessly into those of a canine as his feet became paws and his face became a monstrous wolf’s head that spouted black fur like the rest of his body was as a long tail spouted from the point above his spine – he had taken the ultimate form the Uratha had at their disposal, Gauru – the war form, the shape that everything learned to fear. Ross revelled in the raw power he felt as his eyes opened – he was huge, easily eight and a half feet tall. He threw back his head and howled to the night sky; Alexander’s eyes widened as he realized what had happened – and he suddenly knew how utterly ****ed he was. Ross lunged forward like a steam engine as Alexander feinted a blow then turned and ducked away, running just as Jane had – but unlike her, his terror was so extreme that he threw the door to the limo open and dove in, slamming it and fumbling for the keys to start it.

“Scaredy ****.” Ross snarled out with effort, the voice sounding utterly inhuman as the Rahu advanced on the limo with long loping strides. Rachel shifted back to Hishu and hung back with a small smile, knowing the fight was practically done, though Rex stayed Dalu and advanced with Ross. Emile appeared once more, his coat and jaws matted in blood as he circled the stalled limo, tongue lolling from his mouth. Ross reached the Limo first and rather bluntly ripped the door from the frame, tossing it aside and grinning as Alexander all but pissed himself in terror. Emile lunged; massive jaws clamping on his leg with enough force to shatter everything below the knee and tugged the man from the limo with his powerful muscles. Alexander screamed in agony and raised his dagger to stab but Rex gripped his hand and broke his wrist with a swift movement of his Dalu enhanced hand, the knife falling away into the foot well of the limo’s driver seat.

Alexander hit the grass with a grunt and Emile let go, the Urshul Uratha sitting on his haunches like a massive hound, blue eyes staring at the panicked vampire with savage glee. Finally, Ross reached down and plucked the vampire up like a toy and with a content rumble, gripped one arm in each of his own massive hands and tore the Vampires arms from his body in a fountain of blood. As his gurgling, twice dying corpse fell to the earth Ross shrank back down to Hishu himself, panting from the experience as Emile fell upon Alexander’s twitching corpse and shook it like a rag doll, tearing open the chest and crushing the decaying heart within into paste.

“You should consider taking up something else other than diplomacy, Rachel.” Ross grinned at her as Emile shifted back to Hishu himself, grinning wide from ear to ear despite being covered in blood. Rachel gave a soft laugh.

“I’ll consider it.” She replied with a smirk.

mebecronck
2012-09-04, 07:19 PM
@Dr Bwaa
*reading Dr Bwaa's comment*

"Naw, that can't be right." I say with a confused expression plastered upon my face.

*reads through the comment again*

"Huh?!? He likes it ... and thinks it is very well written." this time exclaimed with just a hint a disbelief, as acceptance sets in; although trying not to let my ego get to bloated from a singular compliment.

*stepping away from comedic writing to an actual response*

To quote Mark Twain, "I have been complimented many times, and it always leaves me embarrassed. I always felt they haven't said quite enough."

(Actually that might have been more of a paraphrasing.)

Thanks for the compliment, and I would like some critique; if you feel the writing could use it. Although, don't "hit" me ... I bruise easily. Especially my ego.

I may try writing in "snippets" later, when I feel more comfortable with my writing. These background/details/history/world-building writings will make good practice for that.

For now, an intermediary piece to hold you over for the next entry "The Island". Since Dr Bwaa asked for it, I shall deliver. A little more depth to one of the characters in the party.

-CHARACTER BACKGROUND-

I will be honest ... I tried to write this out in the same fashion as my previous entry. It just doesn't work. You don't get the true context of the character within this style. So, this will just have one thing. History. I will mix in the other details as I go along. So, this might have the style of a snippet.

Jessica

An attractive girl, with long blonde hair mixed with pure white streaks, large feathered wings, a lithe body, and pale blue eyes. This young girl lived a sheltered life. On a small island surrounded by monks that had long ago taken a vow of silence.

They have but two purposes, two goals in life.

1. To protect the sacred plant, that only grows on this island, from the outside world. For it is the key ingredient for making Panacea.
2. To protect Jessica from the outside world, for reasons never fully explained to her.

She was told, by The Headmaster (one of two monks who decided not to take the vow of silence), that this has to do with her father. She knew her father, very well. In her childhood he never left her side. It took quite a bit of convincing just to let her have any privacy at all.

Her father was a paladin of great status, a true warrior and hero. He fought his way into the Ninth Layer of Hell and slapped (with his long sword) Asmodeus right across the face, and returned to tell the tale. At least that is what she heard, and never bothered to question it. She knew her father was a hero, but it didn't quite explain why this meant she had to be protected.

Upon reaching her teens, she was left to the care of the Monastery. Her father, over time, started to visit less and less, but she feels like he is always watching. Upon these visits, he will occasionally bring an old traveling buddy. An old man with a fondness for tattoos and red robes. A quiet girl with blue skin and hair. Her favorite of them all, however, was the mountain of muscle called Cronc.

Cronc always has a smile on his face. A feature offset by the whole picture. He looms over everyone else around him, even with the fact that he stands hunched over. Tremendous muscles bulge from everywhere but his belly, which is girthed over from too much meat and booze. Scars cover his body.

When he visits it always starts the same way. He slams his axe head first into the ground and shouts, "JESS!" at the top of his lungs. He is loud enough to be heard from anywhere on the island. She would come running and launch herself into his arms, and he would give her a big hug.

After this, Cronc would share stories of recent adventures. As best as he could describe them. His grasp on the common tongue is tenuous at best. They would mostly entail giant monsters coming out to attack Cronc, and then Cronc smashed them.

Sharing stories was not what Cronc liked the most. After sharing tales of adventures and fighting, he would ask, "Wat yu wunt do?" No matter what she answered, he would find some way to make it happen. Regardless of his limited skill set.

You see, Cronc had a very poor childhood. In his youth he had but one friend. A young girl who learned to look past his monstrous appearance to see the kind soul who lives within it. She was tiny compared to the rest of the kids and tended to be pushed around for it. Cronc would regularly step in and fight to defend her.

On one trip out into the woods, she suggested taking a dip in a small pound. However, Cronc never learned how to swim. She insisted she could teach him and dived right in. She hit hard in the shallow water and laid motionless, face-down on the surface. Cronc tried to save her, but it was too late.

He was blamed for the girl's death and chased out of town. This event left two scars on his person. One is the lost of his first friend. The other was a pathological fear of water.

Jessica reminds him a lot of his old friend. She called him, "Uncle Cronc", which, after learning what "Uncle" means, made him felt a level acceptance and, for that matter, family that he hasn't felt in a long time.

The visits from Cronc, and others, aside, there wasn't much to do in the Monastery. She spent most of her time reading. Most of what they have to read is religious text and ancient indecipherable scrolls. The only thing interesting to read was Henry's secret stash of adventure novels.

Henry is the other monk who foregone the vow of silence. A large man with an equally large curiosity about the outside world. He trades in whatever he can to learn more about it. The island, being impossible to self sustain, needs trade with the mainland to the east for resources otherwise inaccessible. Each time they visited Henry would go to trade with whatever he can for information about the outside world. Books, portraits, maps, even just stories if they had any to share.

This attitude is frowned upon by the other monks, which would prefer that he stayed focus on his duties. His "mania" would reach its peak when he somehow managed to obtain and restore a small boat. However, even he admits that he does not have the courage to take it out.

Whenever Jessica would visit, Henry would let her read whichever adventure novel he just recently finished. Rarely having two copies of any novel, he would then wait eagerly to share notes on the story.

Reading these books made Jessica more and more eager to explore the outside world. Just to see what is out there, books were a pale imitation to the real thing. She was sure.

For a time, the tales of Cronc's journeys, especially how it always ended in combat, kept her from even trying to go. She knew well that she could not fight. Not for a lack of capacity, but for a lack of desire. There is not a single violent bone within her body. She was gifted with the talent of healing through the divine. She takes this as a sign that she is meant to help, not to harm.

Even this can only hold her curiosity at bay for so long. On her sixteenth birthday, when her father came to visit, she asked him a simple question. A simple question that lead to lengthy debates, arguments, and even yelling.

"Can I leave the monastery?"

It took quiet a bit of convincing, and several days, but having pointed out that she can never truly grow living on this island, the father let his daughter leave the nest. Telling her that, " ... if you ever need me, for any reason, I will always be there."

Before she left, Henry offered her two things. His restored boat, and his pristine copy of "Around the World in Eighty Days" by Jules Verne. She thanked him, taking the book, but refusing the boat.

"I'm out to see the world ... and to finally stretch out my wings."

Winds
2012-09-04, 07:32 PM
The Game


The tenses here are really, really weird, even within sentences ("If we survived that long, she will..."). Otherwise this is very smooth exposition.

Hurm. Grammar gets to be a failing of mine. I tend to rethink a sentence in the middle...usually I change the rest. Usually.




Eh? This needs more explanation; by all rights it sounds like Kalach (at least) should be toast, if Yang "is likely powerful enough to slay us all in a straight fight."

We ran away, and she's a terrible shot.




I agree with the Lady here; this reads too fast and I lose the shape of the scene. Spend a bit more time.

Part of why I'm switching styles.



It did? Very open-minded paladin you've got here.

Heh. It may have helped that Kalach really hadn't done anything evil...




This seems weird/out-of-place. Are you using "lately" as "eventually"? "Recently"? The context is unclear.

It should say 'later'...



Me neither, but more interesting perhaps is how your paladin reacted. Implicit trust because celestial? Detect Evil because Paladin? This is a good opportunity to show us something about the other characters.

Detect Evil helped with the trust...but I seem to recall she has an aura of good, as well.




Earning Trust


I know you're technically leaving the journal form behind, but I don't think the "I would find out later" thing works here. Until you have an actual example, you might as well not bother talking about it, even if you're not restricted by your chosen format. And if you do have an example, why aren't you using it? I think it's also worth noticing that this is pretty much the only place that this snippet deviates from the journal style you've been going with; I don't think it's really necessary.

My foreshadowing needs more practice, I guess.



RE: Grammar

This is what happens when I don't proofread more. I'll fix this stuff later.


This is still Kalach narrating (yes?), and he's not a guy to mince words. I think this could be restructured a bit to preserve his voice a little more: "people" instead of "ordinary humans"; "No one... particularly adamant pacificts." etc.

True enough.




I think this belongs in the previous paragraph--he's referring to the tithe, yes?


You're right, and correct.



Hahahaha. Best book ever.

That's why he kept it!



:smalleek: I guess that's possible... screwed up families ahoy.

Well...extended family. They aren't related by any degree of genetics, but no one wanted to inquire further.


"Protected" is unclear here. Presumably you mean magically protected or trapped through other means besides the lock, or some such? As is it just looks redundant; either take it out or elaborate.

Yup. I'll fix that too.




Nice description (I love "*gluck*), with one thing missing--no teeth? If these are some kind of strange toothless flying lizards that's important to tell the reader; otherwise I get here all confused because I expect teeth.

I don't remember. However, as they didn't have a combat action bite and did all their damage by swallow, I'm thinking no. They're extinct for a reason...



You don't say?

The results are about what you'd expect. Specifically, Incoming FUN!



Love this snippet; fun fight (swallow-whole is always entertaining) and nice exposition. My only comment (okay obviously not my only comment but shut up) would be that, if you're really going to move away from the journal format, you should do something with that fact--let us see something that we wouldn't see in the journal. I'm really wanting more development of the other characters, since at this point I have only a vague sense of their personalities; their values; etc.

Glad you liked it, as always. I am shifting styles for that purpose. Will keep improving, I hope.


Now, to go fix my many errors!

SleepyShadow
2012-09-05, 04:53 PM
@Lady Moreta:

Lucy has the attention span of a gnat, doesn't she?
In and out of character :smallsigh:


This is quite confusing... You change point of view in the middle of the paragraph and it makes it really hard to tell who's who and what each one is doing. You start out with Lupin's perspective and using the pronoun 'he' to refer to Lupin. Then all of a sudden, two sentences away, you're now with Derive and using 'he' to refer to Derive... At the very least, I'd say you need to change "... he could immediately see..." to "... Derive could immediately see..." we need to know exactly who is doing what.

You're right. I should have clarified my writing a bit.


Overall, I liked this, it was a good 'filler' - bit of exposition, bit of inferred action, good humour... giving us some plot details but without being boring.

Thank you :smallsmile:

@Dr Bwaa:

Did she have the accent before? I don't remember it.
I don't remember whether she did at the beginning either. All I remember is that I used that accent for her that session. None of my players bugged me about it, so my excuse to you is that she's a bard. She can speak as she pleases :smalltongue:


I think the beginning of this could be phrased a little more naturally, though. That southern sort of dialect is nothing if not laid-back and natural; "was giving me more of a headache than" feels pretty choppy by comparison. I was thinking something more like "That gal's worse'n an indoor kobold concert... etc".
Not sure on that. I've never heard a real southern accent, and it's been years since I last watched a spaghetti western.


Where did his stuff go?
He was referring to Derive's maneuvers and how they refresh every encounter. I think Derive's player got tired of running out of spells at critical moments :smallamused:


How do they know where this is?
Gather Information. Um ... Meepo the Shoe-Shiner gave them directions.


Good chapter overall--you mask your exposition well (funny for the fourth-wall-breaking genre you write in).
Thanks. Just to be clear, it's not that I can't write completely in-game world, but I feel that some of the chatter that occurs around the table deserves to be written down. :smallbiggrin:

Now I have a brazilian things to fit into a single snippet without it becoming too lengthy.


The Cliche of the Genre (or A Cat Girl's Worst Nightmare)
It was opening night at the Paradise. Despite their investigation, the three adventurers had been unable to find reason to stop Sara from putting on the show on-schedule. Despite her reassurances, Lupin and Derive 'knew' that something terrible was going to happen.

Lupin was on edge as the customers began to file excitedly into the theater, all of them eager to see the elven romantic comedy A Good Year In Suss Forest. Lupin knew that his comrade Derive was somewhere in the balcony to keep an eye out for trouble. However, the halfling had lost track of Lucy in the crowd. He worried that she had gotten into trouble somewhere.

"No time to fret over her now," Lupin reminded himself as he watched the line of patrons from the darkness of the alley across the street. "Like Uncle Jan always said, 'when you aren't sure what you're looking for, look for everything.' Hmm ..."

Lupin furrowed his brow and a frown crept upon his face. "Then again, he was usually passed in the corner from his turnip wine."

Suddenly, a hand gripped him by the shoulder. Screaming like an eight year old girl, he scrambled away from his supposed attacker and bolted out of the alley. He tripped on the curb and fell into the street, turning around with his gun pointed at the alley.

"Whatcha doing?" Lucy asked curiously as she exited the darkness of the alley.

The halfling turned bright red as he heard the chuckling of theater patrons across the street. Lupin stood up quickly and put his gun away, then began to brush himself off.

"Keeping an eye out for trouble," he answered her as he cleared his throat. "What are you doing back there?"

"Chasing hobos," Lucy answered with an innocent smile.

Lucy's smile slowly morphed into concerned curiosity as she looked beyond Lupin at something across the street. Turning to follow her gaze, the halfling felt an icy chill run up his spine as he saw Jonathan Long entering the theater, his arm wrapped tightly around Sara's waist.

"Trouble," Lupin said bluntly.


***

Once everyone was settled into the theater, Lupin and Lucy joined Derive up in the balcony. The murmurs from below echoed hollowly throughout the chamber, though the halfling dismissed it as nothing more than odd acoustics.

"Have you seen Sara?" Lupin asked Derive.

"Yeah," Derive replied tensely. "She's over in the other balcony with Long."

A cheer rose up from the theater patrons as the film began. Lupin glanced intermittently at Sara and Jonathan, and every time it seemed as if Mr. Long had pressed himself more firmly against her as he whispered into her ear.

Suddenly the movie stuttered and stopped, the projector making a horrendous metallic squalling sound. Someone from the crowd called out "Focus!" in a friendly tone. Standing upon his seat to get a better view, Lupin watched in horror as the image of the dozen men in blank masks came into view on the screen. The theater grew very quite as a palpable feeling of malevolence began to wash over the room.

The silence was shattered by a scream as Long pushed Sara over the balcony railing. She plummeted to the wooden floor, landing on her head with a sickening crack. Screams and the hackneyed cries of "Dear Gods!" rang throughout the room.

Suddenly, the image on the screen went black as the floor to the theater collapsed, causing another chorus of screams to reverberate across the room. Rising up from the darkness of the hole, terrified patrons gripped in its slime-coated tendrils, was a massive amorphous ball of black and silver film. It lashed out with its limbs, snatching up fleeing patrons and devouring them.

"Tentacles," Derive grumbled. "Figures."

Winds
2012-09-05, 06:07 PM
Regarding Southern accents: that example was more complicated than you'd expect, but not so bad as to be out of place.

@SleepyShadow

The snippet is done well, and the story is going places. As for Derive's comment about tentacles...well, it's made of film. Can't do much else with it, really.

Dr Bwaa
2012-09-06, 06:50 PM
You guys it is way harder to keep up with you when I actually have to be productive at work during the day. Jerks. Don't stop the rock writing, though.

Rest assured that I have read and enjoyed each of your snippets; they're all in the compendium already and I will have comments for everyone soon, by this weekend if not before. And you might even get a special treat from me! (but more likely you'll just get edits to some snippet that's already posted that no one will read).

mebecronck
2012-09-07, 06:28 PM
@SleepyShadow
Tentacles! I've seen enough "anime" to know were this is going.

@Mab

A boy standing in a lonely field. The Sun hangs low to the east. The child cups his hands around his mouth and shouts to Sun.

"CONTEXT!"

To which the Sun replies, "... about what?"

"What is an urhin and all these other weird words? I know it has something to do with the fantasy setting, but without more context they mean nothing to me."

"Why not Google it?"

"I'M LAZY!"

Lady Moreta
2012-09-08, 01:32 AM
... or thrown ...


... about me dragging my feet.

Whoops and whoops. Thanks for pointing them out :smallsmile:


... I think Uncle Norchan killed Calia's father. First witness is first suspect after all. He didn't have the heart to kill Calia, too. So, he instead sends her away; with hopes that she will not return. Possibly killed in her new profession, maybe.

It's a nice theory... I'm sorry to say it's incorrect (I already know what happened to Calia's father), but it's a good theory :smallsmile:


Both in character and out, it seemed...unwise. (And when it seems unwise to someone who made a deal with the devils by mistake...)

1. Let's see. 50 metric ****-tons of coins and gems, in the first room of a devise/demesne built to be able to collocate with a god's home plane without permission. I vote we leave the very likely guarded trove alone.

2. Also...the devils mentioned before are trying to claim these as fast as we are. Clearly, the thing to do is spend months clearing it out, and thereby give them a head start.

3. This realm doesn't use this stuff as currency. What good is it going to do us, given that no-one wants it?

So, that's the IC and OOC reasoning.

Oh, I completely understand. Leaving the gold is exactly what my own party would have done if we'd been faced with the same circumstances (though there probably would have been a brief argument with the warlock first)... I just think the opposite would have made an awesome snippet :smallbiggrin:



Oddly enough, I'm the only one of us carrying any money for the tithe. I wonder what happens when I run out...Problem for later, I suppose.

I'm curious about why Kalach is the only one carrying any money for the tithe... that's not normal adventurer behaviour! Where's all the loot? :smalltongue:


"Cronc's one way to smash...Only one page. It just says 'Cronc SMASH!'...no wonder it was gathering dust."

I had to smile at that. "He didn't strike me as the literary type..."

Heehee :smallsmile: I don't think that qualifies as 'literary' though :smallamused: and I love that Kol found it funny enough to keep. I like little short sentences like that that are wonderfully descriptive of a person, without going into huge details.


Anyway, the challenge. Several reptilian, flying creatures. They didn't mean to eat. That was, as we would learn, the only method of combat they knew.

They didn't mean to eat us. Saying 'they didn't mean to eat' makes them sound like they don't mean to eat anything, ever, which is just silly (and would make them die really fast).


One shot. We managed one shot before they interrupted us.

I like this too. Good succint way of getting across that these aren't going to be an easy fight without going into lots of details and description of who did what.

Also, the whole being eaten process? Yuck. :smallyuk: - so well done!


"Oh. I, um...Why don't I try pouring it on these ladies?"

Yeah, bad idea. But I hadn't the least idea of what to do, so I let her do it...

Oh dear... :smalleek:

I liked this, I like this style better than the journal style I think... it's easier to figure out what's going on.


Okay; now you've repeated it and I'm forced to wonder if the first one (the end of the first line) should be written this way too, if the speaker always uses this emphasis (of course, see my comments later...)


Well now I just don't know what to do with myself. Clearly looks like a setting thing at this point, but this makes me confused about the term "SINners".

Yes, you kind of have to know something about the setting for that to make sense. A SIN is a System Identification Number (I think) and everyone has one (or at least, is supposed to have one). Most shadowrunners have one, or two or three, but they're fake and their real details aren't on the system anywhere. Someone who is SINless is a person who has no SIN with their real details (they may have many fake ones... Leonora has three, but none of them are real). Someone who is a SINner is someone who has a legitimate, actual and real one. They may have a few fakes ones as well (especially if they're a shadowrunner).

The juxtaposition of sinless and SINless in this case, was entirely intentional. But I didn't want to explain what was going on, because that would have ruined the impact... and this was backstory anyway...


Here I'd go with "spell out all one-word numbers", since that lets you spell out all the numbers instead of spelling one and numeralizing two, while preserving "spell numbers under ten".

Good point.


Eh? I think I understand what you're trying to say--in that she's basically being a diplomat, so she's technically helping people, but at the end of the day it's just a job. I think this could be phrased better though.

Yes, and on a second reading, I think you're right... it's a bit clumsy.


Very suggestive of the age gap here. You could elaborate on how that came about or leave it to the reader's imagination; either works I think.

I... don't quite get what you mean here.



Kind of a weird transition from sad/sweet to sad/creepy, in my opinion, but I don't know that that's bad thing. Just... a kind of creepy thing.

It was meant to be kind of creepy, so I'll take that as a compliment. (I don't know about creepy so much as 'not happy' so meh, I'll take it anyway.)



Kind of weird. The timeframe is fine--two weeks certainly isn't long--but "...it didn't take long. Nothing happened..." is a bizarre thing to say.

If it makes you feel any better, I didn't like that part when I wrote it either.


Metaphorical at best, no?

Technically, Leonora is younger than Lukas, and also shorter/smaller, so yes, she is the little sister :smalltongue: it was also meant as a kind of telling comment on the way they see themselves. There's not a huge difference between them in age (or height for that matter), but she still refers to herself as the 'little' sister because that's how Lukas sees her.



I like this, and I don't. It's a good tie-in to the opening line, but we've had no other real interaction with the reader in the intervening time besides a couple of partial references. Leonora's storytelling tone is very good and very consistent, but her talking-to-the-reader tone isn't very developed, so this line ends up feeling a bit surprising.

That's because I wasn't able to make up my mind whether she was actually talking to someone or just sort of talking to herself. In the end, it reads to me, like she's actually just talking to herself, but she's doing so as if she's talking to someone else. This of course, makes perfect sense to me (and is thusly obvious) because that's what I do all the time. I tend to talk to myself a lot and the usual way I do so, is as if I'm talking or reciting to another person. It's a bit odd... but mostly it was just because I had struggled to get started writing this and that first line just made it easier...


Also, I do intend to read the other things that have been posted, but I have a splitting headache right now and it's kinda hard to concentrate on anything at the moment.

PaperMustache
2012-09-09, 09:00 PM
This is a snippet from the middle of a campaign I am in now where my character is a double agent for the BBEG. I wrote out the whole campaign actually but this is the only part I really liked.

The Destruction of Amolarr: Part 1
At last we have left the barbarian tribes and their wastes and made our way to the city of Amolarr. The cold in this region seems to chill the hearts of those who make their lives here, which makes it difficult for outsiders to establish relations with them. Even I found it challenging to convince the guard to open the city gates to us. In the end, however, the name of the southern dragons strikes fear into even the most obstinate hearts and we were allowed passage.

A cursory appraisal of the city’s interior was enough to lay bare the nature of its inhabitants. This was a city built on the backs of the impoverished, fueled by their skills, and managed by a cunning nobility. This much was certain based on the rows of tidy shops that lined the streets. They featured finely crafted items in their windows, but further inside there was no workbench, no smelting fire, no sign at all of the sort of mess that real crafting entails. If I had to have guessed I would say the goods were bought cheaper elsewhere. Those who shopped in this district did so because if they ever met the real masters, they would gasp at the horror of associating with one so below their status.

A few gossiping aristocrats confirmed my suspicions, “…prices in the dwarven district are ruining…”

Ah yes, dwarves, that would do it: a race so skilled at crafting and architecture, but so poor with words and no patience for politics. They basically cried out for mistreatment by their very nature. The supplies we needed would be cheapest in the dwarven district, so I suggested we pay it a visit. It was an inconvenient walk, far from the main gates. We rounded several corners, finding less glamor and more filth the farther we went, until we came upon a smaller square packed with twice the shops of the main district. We found a potion shop first and packed ourselves inside.

The shop was built for dwarves, and by consequence the ceilings were low and most of the room’s meager space was occupied by a working cauldron and a wall-length shelf of spell components. The floor was littered with dust and little pieces of herbs. These were the marks of a true craftsman, and I was glad to have come to the right place.

A cheery, red faced dwarf welcomed us from behind the counter, “Good day to ya’ lads ‘n lassie. What c’n I do for yeh?”

“We’re looking for healing potions” the barbarian, Malakar, answered.

“Aye then, I got all the healing potions yeh could ever want” the dwarf bellowed as he produced from behind him an array of potion bottles of differing hues, “now here yeh got yer cure lights, your cure moderates, yer cure serious and for the really tough wounds, yer cure criticals.” He pointed to each bottle in turn.

“How much for cure light?” Malakar asked.

“70 gold, lad, or 10 for 600” He offered.

I frowned. He was bumping the price up because he thought we were
nobility. I wondered what prices he sold wholesale to the fools in the main district. Probably more. I was in no mood to part with that much gold, though, so I worked a charm on him and asked him again.

“How about 40 for one?” I offered politely as the spell took hold, forcing the dwarf to regard me as an old friend.

“O' course, lass, that sounds fair.” He replied affectionately “or 10 for 350.”

We made the deal, absconding with 10 potions each before the spell wore off. We headed for the nearest tavern to stay the night. I was looking forward to a hot meal and a comfortable bed when the nearest tavern found us, in the form of a drunken dwarf being hurled out of a window into the snow before us. Warm light and hearty laughter flowed from within, along with shouts of “take yer preachin elsewhere yer holiness!”

Malakar lent the dwarf a hand and dragged him out of the snow, displaying his oft unnoticed barbarian strength. The stranger was tall for a dwarf with a bright red beard the likes of which one would expect and a smile to match. He thanked us for our help and against my wishes the business of introductions was initiated.

“I am Bronn” the dwarf mustered, “servant of Torag.”

“Kepesk of the southern dragons” I replied dutifully, though making the acquaintance of a paladin was not something I wanted or needed.

Just as I was hoping this holy warrior wasn’t the prying sort, the damned fool muttered an almost inaudible prayer and I knew my secret was out. I extrapolated from the shock on his face that his detect evil spell had yielded results. I imagined overwhelmingly powerful evil woven through my very blood, originating from a tattoo on my clavicle. My own allegiance would probably be undetectable in comparison, but I still had some explaining to do. I prepared mentally to play at ignorance. If I had to, perhaps a misleading truth about the nature of sorcery. Some admission of the evil dragons I once served. If it came down to it, a threat. Anything but the truth.

“By asmodeous left testicle!” the paladin shouted, “Lass! What is WRONG with your shoulder?”

I donned my most innocent and confused face, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, friend.”

“Well we have to get you to a temple straight away!” He uttered, taking my hand.

“I don’t think so” I said sharply, pulling my hand away, “I think you might be drunk.”

My companions were eyeing me skeptically, which made me more uncomfortable. These fools should trust me completely, but I knew they had their doubts ever since we had joined the Brotherhood. Dragging them into my infiltration of a secret society had been necessary, but it had also put a strain on our working relationship as I kept more and more information from them. I opted to disengage, walking away from the group purposefully into the tavern.

Inside I sat at the bar and ordered a meal. The paladin and my companions entered after, but only the paladin approached me again. Fortunately he was stopped by the barkeep who told him to leave before his in had to deal with another broken window. As they argued I picked up some chatter from the rest of the room.

“Who does that paladin think he is, preaching to us while our families starve.” Said one.

“Torag can’t help us now, we’re on our own” muttered another.

“If he don’t leave I’ll slit the bastards throat meself” wheezed the man beside me.

The consensus was clear, and added another feature to my understanding of this city. Among these dwarves, religion was not welcome. Their living conditions were so dismal, this usually noble race had turned its back on their gods, on their hope, and to some extend their heritage. These were desperate, violent people, propping up the entire city with their blood. They were realizing they had nothing to lose and they were ready to do something about it.

It was during these musings that a familiar glint caught my eye. A man at the opposite end of the bar tipped his hat to me, revealing a silver amulet in the shape of a wolf’s head. I pulled back my sleeve to reveal my own. He wanted to speak with me, and in this I knew I would have the barbarian’s support. I found him in the crowd, flashed my amulet, and motioned for him to come distract the nosey paladin. He did as he was bid and I was able to approach the agent.

“Evening brother” I spoke softly to the man, “what can I do for you?”

“Sit, sister” he answered, “as it happens, it seems we have a revolution on our hands.”

The agent explained the situation in the city as I had suspected. The seeds of revolution had been planted years ago with high taxes on crafted goods, laws restricting entrance to the city to outsiders, and an underlying racism that kept the dwarven population oppressed. However, an opening in the city council had sparked many dwarves to action. One candidate, an old scholar named Soluth, advocated better working conditions for dwarves within the city, strengthening trade with the barbarian tribes, and a more lenient policy to allow outsiders access to the city. The other, Kathull, was a younger man from a noble family who called for a crackdown on dwarven weapon smithing and cutting ties with the barbarian tribes.

“I fear that if the council does not make this decision soon, this entire area could become destabilized” the agent finished, “it doesn’t matter who wins, but one or the other must be elected soon or we will have bloodshed on our hands.”

“We’ll take care of it” I promised.

I was glad to have some common ground with the barbarian again. I explained the situation to him, playing up the fate of his precious tribes in the mix. It was decided that tomorrow we would endeavor to campaign for the right candidate and stabilize the city. I paid for our rooms and one by one we turned in for the night.

I was so glad to lay in a real bed again that I fell asleep almost instantly. I slept comfortably, but it could not last. After a few hours I felt a familiar presence in my mind.

“Kepesk” the voice of a man prodded gently, “it has been thirty days, what have you to report?” Through the fog of my dreams the image of my employer came into focus. It was the first time I had ever seen him without the half mask he wore in front of enemies. His face was strong and serious. He wore black robes, but his dark red hair was exposed. I nearly didn’t recognize him.

“I have had little contact with the brotherhood before today” I began my report. I informed him of my movements and the movements of my group since my last report. I listed the cities we had visited where we had found no agent of the brotherhood stationed, I told what I had gathered of barbarian customs from our time in the wastes, and I gave a detailed assessment of this city’s gathering revolution and the brotherhood’s intentions to stabilize the situation.

“You have done well, agent” the man in black said, “this city’s instability pleases me. If these godless dwarves need a savior, they might be more inclined to join me. Do as the brotherhood asks with these councilors, but insure that their stability does not last long.”

“Are you sure, sir?” I managed, “if you want the brotherhood to trust me, I ultimately will have to help them in some ways. This might be a good time to build that.” The man in black usually respected my ideas when we disagreed, a quality that insured my loyalty almost as much as his vision.

“You are correct” he conceded, “but I feel there is an obvious choice that will lead this city to ruin much more quickly than the brotherhood realizes. This man, Kathull, you must support him.”

“Of course, sir, it will be done.” I told him, knowing this was not going to win me favor with the barbarian or the paladin who seemed insistent on following us around. That was my problem, though, not the man in black’s.

He nodded solemnly and for a moment I saw the strain of battle on his face, “I will need strong reinforcements within the year. Set this city on a path to destruction as quickly as you can and report to me any developments. As always, I will be watching.”

Then he was gone, as I sunk back into my dreams I felt a growing excitement that tomorrow would be far more challenging than I had planned. I could easily stabilize a government, but it was so much more fun to knock out the foundation and watch it fall.

Dr Bwaa
2012-09-09, 11:50 PM
@Mabs

"The agreement was that there was to be no weapons that could seriously harm.”

I like this agreement a lot; the phrasing is a little weird though (and "was" should be "were").


Rex flashed a grin at those words, and even Rachel smirked just a little. The vampire looked furious themselves at those words, and in a flash had drawn his large, ornate gun – and then all hell broke loose.

This is a good scene and setup, but the phrasing is a bit awkward (and needs a bit of general proofing). Besides that, I think you could take out both instances of "those words"--all the reader needs is the context to understand why Rex is grinning and Alistair is furious, so the extra specificity just breaks the flow. Also, "large, ornate gun"--I really want more detail here! We haven't seen this gun before and it sounds like it deserves a real introduction.


The Uratha bulled the Vampire to the ground with a smashed the gun out of his grip, grinning ferociously at the creature as the firearm went bouncing off into the darkness.

The first part of this sentence needs some proofing; you've got some extra words floating around in there. Also "at the creature" is unnecessary specificity again in my opinion.


“Come here, puppy. You’ve been a bad dog.” She sneered in a thick Russian accent

If she's got a thick Russian accent, she's probably not super comfortable in English, so she won't be using contractions like "you've". "You have been bad dog" is much easier to hear in the accent than what you have there.


he put on far more muscle than he had in Urhan – he was built like a tank; the nails he had in Urhan becoming large knife-like claws; his head becoming larger and thicker like that of a pit bull, his jaws parting wider as he snarled louder, tongue flashing out over monstrous bone-crushing teeth. He was to Urhan what Dalu was to Hishu; Urshal, a giant wolf straight out of nightmare.

I'm sure this makes sense in-setting, but honestly all the name-drops just distracted from what you were actually saying. If you want to leave one or two in that's fine, but I think counting on your readers being familiar enough with the setting not to be distracted is a little dangerous.


In her panic she leapt onto the limo with supernatural grace; her high heels not being suited to such a task snapped and skittered out from under her. She landed hard on her front

This is pretty incongruous--she's moving with supernatural grace, but she manages to snap both her heels off and land on her face?


The fairy had got in a few good blows

If vampires are literally fairies in this setting, fine. Otherwise, you should be aware here of your narrator (impartial up to this point) using the 'wolves' slang to describe the vampires.


the shape that everything learned to fear.

"The shape that everything feared" feels cleaner--seems to me nothing's very likely to get much of a chance to "learn" to fear this form.


his gurgling, twice dying corpse

Took me a second to get "twice-dying" but I like it :smallbiggrin:


“You should consider taking up something else other than diplomacy, Rachel.”

"else other than"--more unnecessary repetition. Also, why this comment? Rachel barely got any mention besides her good moment at the beginning--did I miss her doing something particularly spectactular combat-wise? All I see is her helping harass Alexander until Ross can get there and deal with him.

Nice snippet--and entertaining combat, if pretty one-sided. Might be good to adjust your phrasing here and there to make it feel a little less so--make it seem less like the vamps are completely screwed from the get-go. That'll give you some tension that would make the scene more gripping. I look forward to seeing more!


@mebecronck

I have been complimented many times

I try to make a habit of only complimenting people slightly less than they deserve. Mr. Twain presumably had me in mind when he said that. I'm glad to see you're joining in in a more official capacity though! Now, onward to the harassmentcritique!


monks that have long ago taken a vow of silence.

There's a tense issue here; "have" should be "had", or better yet, just "silent monks". You may have noticed people (especially Lady Moreta and I) praising people here and there for particularly concise phrases; as a rule, less is usually more.


one of two monks that decided not to take the vow of silence

This crops up a few other places too. Anytime your subject is a person (or reasonably person-like entity), backreferences should be "who", not "that".


He fought his way into the Ninth Layer of Hell and slapped (with his long sword) Asmodeus right across the face, and returned to tell the tale.

For some reason I can't quite put my finger on, this phrasing bugs me.


Upon reaching her teens, she was left to the care of the Monastery.

Where did she live before this? Was her father part of the monastery? If she was otherwise just a regular kid (albeit daughter of a war hero), this would be a huge transition for her--expound on that maybe; give us some insight into Jessica as a person by showing how she deals with this sort of upheaval.


Upon these visits, he will occasionally bring an old traveling buddy.

Here and elsewhere you've got some tense problems; usually you seem to drift into a more-present sort of tense than is really called for. Like here, "will" should be "would"; you're in a flashback so the past-perfect is probably the appropriate tense (see my grammar note a few posts ago if you want). Your next paragraph jumps almost entirely into present tense for a while so I won't mention it again, but just be aware that there's a bunch more tense stuff that I'm not mentioning.


He stands over everyone else around him, even with the fact that he stands hunched over.

I think the first "stands" here should be something more descriptive--both for the sake of description, and to avoid repeating the word. Cronc likely "looms" or "towers".


Tremendously strong muscles

Because of how muscles generally work, "tremendous muscles" is nicer here. It just reads a little more smoothly, and lets the reader make the conclusion without forcing it.


muscles bulge from everywhere but his belly, which is girthed over from too much meat and booze (his primary diet)

Hahahaha. Great detail (but I think you can leave out the parenthetical; it doesn't really add anything in my opinion.


Scars cover his body, a sign of many battles and extreme combat experience.

Likewise here; it's nicer to read if you don't force the conclusions down the reader's throat. We know what heavy scarring means in this context.


He slams his axe head first into the ground and shouts, "JESS!" at the top of his lungs.

I really like this image :smallbiggrin:


After which, Cronc would share stories of recent adventures.

"After which" isn't a clause by itself. If you want to use this phrasing, it needs to be attached to the previous sentence. Personally I like it more as a new paragraph the way you have it, so if you pick a replacement for "which", you'll be fine (eg. "After this ritual" or just "After this").


They would mostly entail of giant monsters coming out to attack Cronc, and then Cronc smashed them.

Haha, love it. My only complaint here is that "entail" doesn't take any helping words. You want either "They would mostly entail giant monsters..." or "They would mostly consist of giant monsters...".


"Wat yu wunt do?" No matter what she answered, he would find some way to make it happen. Regardless of his limited skill set.

D'awwww.


You see, Cronc had a very poor childhood. In his youth he had but one friend.

D'AWWWWWWWWWWW. I like this "you see" transition by the way, despite it being pretty much entirely inconsistent with the rest of the narration. I almost want you to switch the whole thing over to this sort of dialogue-with-the-reader, except then it probably wouldn't work as well here, where it delivers a great sense of intimacy. Hrm.


On one trip out into the woods, she suggested taking a dip in a small pound. However, Cronc never learned how to swim. She insisted she could teach him and dived right in. She hit hard in the shallow water and laid motionless, face-down on the surface. Cronc tried to save her, but it was too late.

:smalleek: Poor Cronc. One thought though--in the preceding paragraph, give the girl a name, and then use it again here. I wasn't sure whether you were talking about the childhood friend or Jess at this point.


He was blamed for the girls death and chased out of town.

*girl's


The other was a pathological fear of water.

Hrm. I... guess I understand this? Was Cronc still quite young at the time, I assume? I think this would be easier to accept if you went into more detail about the girl's drowning and Cronc's efforts to save her. Make it very clear (at least to Cronc) that the water was the culprit in the situation; personify it; make it feel threatening to Cronc's happiness in an ongoing sense. Then Cronc's fear is much easier to swallow.


The only thing interesting to read was Henry's secret stash of adventure novels.

Henry is the other monk that forego the vow of silence.

Two things. First, don't introduce a character without indroducing him first; it's just confusing. It can work in dialogue sometimes, but when your stated purpose is an expository narration, it only serves to make me feel like I missed something. Second, here is an instance where using the right tense would actually just make your job easier. "Forego" is an obnoxious verb to conjucate the way you're trying to do it ("forewent" is actually the correct term here :smallannoyed:). Since Henry made the decision not to take the Vow in the past, and it's not an ongoing thing or anything, the Past Perfect is the appropriate tense--and it's conveniently way nicer to deal with in this case. "Henry was the other monk who had foregone the vow of silence."


A portly man with an equally large curiosity

I'm a big fan of this construction. This is one of the few cases when repetition works better than not--it's much smoother to read "equally large" if you describe him as "large" as well.


Whenever Jessica would visit, Henry would let her read whichever adventure novel he just recently finished. Rarely having two copies of any novel, he would then wait eagerly to share notes on the story.

Best book club ever. Question though--Jessica is visiting? I thought she lived there by this point?


books were pale succour to the real thing. She was sure.

I like the sentiment, but "succour" is not the word you want it to be; it means aid or assistance in a time of great stress.


She was gifted with the talent of healing through the divine.

You have a great opportunity here to show the reader, rather than simply tell it. How is this gift expressed? How did she find out? Are there many opportunities for her to practice divine healing on the silent monks on this secluded island? Especially since this is going to be, in large part, how the PCs define her (The Healer (TM)), some elaboration on her abilities, rather than just one line telling it outright, would be very nice.


It took quiet a bit of convincing

*quite


but having pointed out that she can never truly grow living on this island

"pointed out" doesn't feel like a lot of effort. This makes it feel like she went "but daaaaaaaaaaaaad I can't grow up for real on an island in the middle of nowhere!" and her dad went "oh, you know what, that's a really going point that I'd never considered before! My other arguments are now invalid; go and be free!" Obviously I'm exaggerating, but generally speaking, no one reverses a decision based on one small thing (especially a particularly philosophical point like that one, coming from a sixteen-year-old). Honestly I'd probably either leave out the how of her convincing him, or else put the lofty words in the father's mouth--that gives you a chance to characterize the father a bit too, by showing how he reacts to his daughter's choice. Does he rationalize? Patronize? Support? Later on you seem to lean toward the latter, but there's a good opportunity here to show more about her home life (such as it is).


I'm out to see the world ... and to finally stretch out my wings."

This is a great ending line. I think I'd like it more if you alluded to her wings a bit more throughout the story; how she wasn't allowed to fly more than a league from the island; something to demonstrate in a concrete way that she's been wanting to "stretch her wings".

For a non-snippet, this was definitely pretty snippety in my book! I hope you keep writing these; as I've mentioned I like reading background to the other stories that show up in here, and I really enjoy NPC backgrounds and motivations like this tidbit. As a fellow DM who tends to put much more thought than necessary into NPCs, only to have the players inevitably kill them, cast them aside, or forget about them, I like to see the world outside the story developed like this. :smallsmile:


@Winds
Just a quick note here:


My foreshadowing needs more practice, I guess.

The problem isn't with the foreshadowing itself. I would have liked this if you'd been referring to something in the same snippet. The problem is just leaving it for later snippets that bothers me, because I get to the end of this one and feel like I've missed something (specifically, the something you suggested at the beginning). So it's not the foreshadowing itself that bugged me so much as the fact that you're foreshadowing across snippets.

...Obviously the fix is to make your snippets triple the length so you won't have to do this.


@SleepyShadow

Despite her reassurances, Lupin and Derive 'knew' that something terrible was going to happen.

Awesome. OOC knowledge is the best knowledge.


turnip wine

Haha. As usual, I love your details.


Suddenly, a hand gripped him by the shoulder. Screaming like an eight year old girl, he scrambled away from his supposed attacker and bolted out of the alley. He tripped on the curb and fell into the street, turning around with his gun pointed at the alley.

"Whatcha doing?" Lucy asked curiously as she exited the darkness of the alley.

Great scene. I can only imagine the OOC situation in the room :smallbiggrin:


"Chasing hobos," Lucy answered with an innocent smile.

:smalleek: Uh... lol? Consider me entertained though, hehe.


"Trouble," Lupin said bluntly.

This feels like it should be a response to a question. I don't know if you really need to change it, but it was a little off-putting; I went back to see if I'd missed a question asked by Lucy in there someplace.


Lupin glanced intermittently at Sara and Jonathan, and every time it seemed as if Mr. Long had pressed himself more firmly against her as he whispered into her ear.

Technically there's nothing wrong with this, but the phrasing "every time it seemed as if" makes me want it to continue "...as if X, but really Y". If you switch around the way you phrase that it might be a little less jarring.


the floor to the theater collapsed, causing another chorus of screams to reverberate across the room.

A couple things; I think the floor caving in might merit a little more description. Second, saying "something really catastrophic happened, causing screaming" just feels really bland; I'm pretty sure it's just the "causing" transition. I'd keep the theater collapse in a separate sentence from the moviegoers' reactions, and not mention explicitly that one caused the other--give the reader a little credit here; I think I can figure out that they're screaming because the floor imploded.


massive amorphous ball of black and silver film.

Very cool.


"Tentacles," Derive grumbled. "Figures."

Well sure, of course. Looking forward to seeing (A) how badly the fight inevitably goes, and (B) how Derive responds to how badly the fight inevitably goes.


@Lady Moreta


Very suggestive of the age gap here. You could elaborate on how that came about or leave it to the reader's imagination; either works I think.
I... don't quite get what you mean here.

I was just referring to how you've got her learning about other things pretty young girls can sell at 18, but not that she would do it herself until age 19. It implies some unpleasant learning experiences. I was just saying that you could elaborate on it if you wanted; it seems like there could be a good (if not uplifting) story there. Not that you need to by any means, the implied story is good enough, but just that you could.


Technically, Leonora is younger than Lukas, and also shorter/smaller, so yes, she is the little sister it was also meant as a kind of telling comment on the way they see themselves. There's not a huge difference between them in age (or height for that matter), but she still refers to herself as the 'little' sister because that's how Lukas sees her.

That's about what I figured, just wanted to make sure :smallsmile:


@PaperMustache
First, welcome! I seem to be writing out this disclaimer a lot these days (not that I'm complaining). Here it is again! If you don't want me to critique your work, or if there's something in particular you want me to focus on, let me know! Otherwise I'll just do whatever it is I end up doing, come hells and/or Gates to the plane of Water.

Before I get into specific comments, the first thing that jumps out at me is that you could really use some more section breaks. What you've got would look fine in a real text editor with first-line indentation, but as the forum doesn't provide that, it's much cleaner if you put an extra line between paragraphs to break it up visually a bit. That aside, onwards!


If I had to have guessed I would say the goods were bought cheaper elsewhere. Those who shopped in this district did so because if they ever met the real masters, they would gasp at the horror of associating with one so below their status.

Very interesting and a very nice display of the social climate. I'm loving all your descriptions so far.


They basically cried out for mistreatment by their very nature.

We're getting some good exposition on the character of the speaker, too, although it's not clear yet what tone this is carrying. It could still be either pity or disdain, but if the writing keeps up like it has I have no doubt we'll find out which it is soon enough.


It was an inconvenience to walk to far from the main gates. We rounded several corners.

*too. Also, these two sentences feel really bland compared to the prose they're couched in. I might attach the second sentence to the one that follows it; "We rounded several corners, finding less glamour...etc." or something like that.


“Good day to ya’ lads ‘n lassie. What c’n I do for yeh?”

I do enjoy an accent :smallsmile:


“We’re looking for healing potions” the lonely barbarian answered.

Lonely? Why is he lonely? This feels like a very strange word choice.


“How about 40 for one?” I offered politely.
“Aye lass, that sounds fair.” He said, blinking through the fog in his mind as he regarded me as a dear friend, “that, or 10 for 350.”

Ha! Nice negotiation skills, though I'd prefer to see the speaker casting the spell than seeing the Dwarf reacting to it--the speaker doesn't have access to other people's thoughts, so this knowledge of the Dwarf's feelings--even though the speaker does know what the results should be of the spell--comes across as pretty strange.


Our lonely barbarian

Again this lonely barbarian thing. I don't get it! It seems like a joke? The barbarian does seem to be the guy who starts up all the conversations; is it in reference to that?


against my wishes the business of introductions was initiated.

Ha, love it.


“By asmodeous left testicle!” the paladin shouted, “Lass! What is WRONG with your shoulder?”

Awesome. Great diffusion of the big buildup, and great outburst from this paladin. And he just keeps going with it! God I love paladins :smallbiggrin:


They were realizing they had nothing to lose and they were ready to do something about it. This city was on the brink of a revolution.

I think the last sentence is unnecessary here. You've done a good job implying it; the final explicit line detracts a bit from the subtlety that I really enjoyed in the rest of the paragraph.


“raze the city and report to me any new developments. I will be watching.”

Woah what? I was totally with you up until this point. Install a not-really-stabilizing leader, sure. Seem to help the brotherhood, sure. Raze the city--what? If this is just meant as a longer-term goal, sure, but if that's the case I think it ought to be clarified a bit in the Big Bad's speech.

http://i1208.photobucket.com/albums/cc366/PlagueEleven/Smileys/MS%20Paint%20Adventures/firstpwnst.gif
Overall, I'm really impressed--this was a great pleasure to read. I hope you change your mind about the rest of the campaign--if you went to the effort to write all that up, it would be a real shame to leave it all rotting on a hard drive someplace.

Lady Moreta
2012-09-10, 02:25 AM
I was just referring to how you've got her learning about other things pretty young girls can sell at 18, but not that she would do it herself until age 19. It implies some unpleasant learning experiences. I was just saying that you could elaborate on it if you wanted; it seems like there could be a good (if not uplifting) story there. Not that you need to by any means, the implied story is good enough, but just that you could.

Ahh right... yes the reason for that is... stuff.. and sod... I shouldn't try replying to things when I have a thumping headache. There is an answer for that and a reason as to why I wrote it that way, but that's gonna have to wait til my head doesn't feel like it's going to fall off.

Likewise, PaperMustache, I read your snippet and I loved it (especially the last line), but any sensible response will have to wait...

PaperMustache
2012-09-10, 10:31 AM
Wow, thank you for the welcome and the great criticism Dr Bwaa. I've gone about making some of the changes you suggested. It definitely looks better with the line breaks. Some clarifications, though.


Lonely? Why is he lonely? This feels like a very strange word choice.
That description made a whole lot more sense with the parts directly before this when the barbarian was explained. Basically barbarians in this setting aren't loners but his tribe was wiped out when he was young. He talks about the lore of his tribe often and has some great destiny involving joining the tribes and leading them to salvation. He's a really great character, but he isn't mine and it felt weird writing for him. I'll just make up a name, since I can't remember what his player actually calls him.


Ha! Nice negotiation skills, though I'd prefer to see the speaker casting the spell than seeing the Dwarf reacting to it--the speaker doesn't have access to other people's thoughts, so this knowledge of the Dwarf's feelings--even though the speaker does know what the results should be of the spell--comes across as pretty strange.
I moved some stuff around, but it feels a little awkward to me this way.


Woah what? I was totally with you up until this point. Install a not-really-stabilizing leader, sure. Seem to help the brotherhood, sure. Raze the city--what? If this is just meant as a longer-term goal, sure, but if that's the case I think it ought to be clarified a bit in the Big Bad's speech.

Going back and reading that again, you're totally right. It made sense in the actual session, but here it's hilariously out of place. Fixed the crap out of that.

I'm really flattered that you took the time to critique my snippet. If I can I'll try my best to return the favor. Thanks so much!


Likewise, PaperMustache, I read your snippet and I loved it (especially the last line), but any sensible response will have to wait... Gah! Thanks.:smallbiggrin:

SleepyShadow
2012-09-10, 02:46 PM
Well sure, of course. Looking forward to seeing (A) how badly the fight inevitably goes, and (B) how Derive responds to how badly the fight inevitably goes.

Wow, you make my players sound completely incompetent when you put it that way :smalltongue:

Dr Bwaa
2012-09-10, 03:33 PM
Wow, you make my players sound completely incompetent when you put it that way :smalltongue:

I do what I can. I think it has to do with the fact that even when your players win, they somehow make it feel like (to me at least) it was a hilarious disaster anyway. :smallbiggrin:

mebecronck
2012-09-10, 08:03 PM
@Dr Bwaa

"Argh! Ego bruised ... the pain ..."

Just kidding. Thanks for the critique. As for the grammar/spelling issues ... I blame the late hours. Surely it couldn't be me.

(Ego restored)

Now to the rest of the critiques.



There's a tense issue here; "have" should be "had", or better yet, just "silent monks". You may have noticed people (especially Lady Moreta and I) praising people here and there for particularly concise phrases; as a rule, less is usually more.

Personally, I don't think "Silent Monks" would tell the same story. Saying "Silent Monks" makes me think of them as being particularly quiet, instead of "Vow of Silence", which says they never talk. That's just my opinion.


For some reason I can't quite put my finger on, this phrasing bugs me.

As for the issues that result from any and all revelations of Jessica's father. I am intentionally not shedding any light on him. The character is ... well ... ummm ... over the top? *shrugs* I just don't want to tell anything about him until I delved a little more into the world and ... once I'm more comfortable with writing. I'm also quite sure that if I do give him details a lot of people are going to point and shout "Marty Stu/Mary Sue".

Probably well deserved, too.

So, whenever I came to a point were I felt I had to address him, I tried my best to find a way to get through as quickly as possible while covering all detail I thought was necessary.


Where did she live before this? Was her father part of the monastery? If she was otherwise just a regular kid (albeit daughter of a war hero), this would be a huge transition for her--expound on that maybe; give us some insight into Jessica as a person by showing how she deals with this sort of upheaval.

I am thinking about writing some short stories about all the things she been through between her leaving the island and meeting with the party. So, I am leaving some things out so I might give more details later.

Plus, she lived with her dad before. Ref. Prev. Ans.


Hahahaha. Great detail (but I think you can leave out the parenthetical; it doesn't really add anything in my opinion.

The parenthetical was for emphasis. Trust me, you still have no idea.

You will soon, though. More Cronc later in new backstories. I can write a whole book on just this one character. For good reason, he was one of my first characters as a player.


Hrm. I... guess I understand this? Was Cronc still quite young at the time, I assume? I think this would be easier to accept if you went into more detail about the girl's drowning and Cronc's efforts to save her. Make it very clear (at least to Cronc) that the water was the culprit in the situation; personify it; make it feel threatening to Cronc's happiness in an ongoing sense. Then Cronc's fear is much easier to swallow.

I always thought of it as an escape for Cronc. Deep down he blames himself for his friend's death, but admitting to it would mean that the townsfolk that chased him off were right. He doesn't want to accept that, so he blamed the only other than that would make sense.

The water.

This horrific thing that was able to stop him from saving his friend. He views it as something that is stronger than him; something that he can't smash.

... but anyways ... I didn't go into much detail here because "The Psychology of Cronc" was not the title of this work. I went into further detail than I planned, but I blame it on the fact that I like this character so much.


Best book club ever. Question though--Jessica is visiting? I thought she lived there by this point?

You will understand when I post my next world piece, "The Island". For now, "the monastery is bigger than you are imagining it."


I like the sentiment, but "succour" is not the word you want it to be; it means aid or assistance in a time of great stress.

DAMMIT! Where are you Thesaurus! How dare you betray me again!


"pointed out" doesn't feel like a lot of effort. This makes it feel like she went "but daaaaaaaaaaaaad I can't grow up for real on an island in the middle of nowhere!" and her dad went "oh, you know what, that's a really going point that I'd never considered before! My other arguments are now invalid; go and be free!" Obviously I'm exaggerating, but generally speaking, no one reverses a decision based on one small thing (especially a particularly philosophical point like that one, coming from a sixteen-year-old). Honestly I'd probably either leave out the how of her convincing him, or else put the lofty words in the father's mouth--that gives you a chance to characterize the father a bit too, by showing how he reacts to his daughter's choice. Does he rationalize? Patronize? Support? Later on you seem to lean toward the latter, but there's a good opportunity here to show more about her home life (such as it is).

Ref. back to generic dad answer. It doesn't feel like a lot of effort, because it was a lot of effort. A lot of effort as in, "Pull the tooth out as quickly as possible, dentist. I want this over with."


This is a great ending line. I think I'd like it more if you alluded to her wings a bit more throughout the story; how she wasn't allowed to fly more than a league from the island; something to demonstrate in a concrete way that she's been wanting to "stretch her wings".

I thought I did describe her wings ... didn't I ...

...

Ah! Here it is ... all ... the ... way ... back in the first paragraph.

Huh?

Yeah, perhaps I should have said more about them.

Also, loved how you "Dawwed" at every point where I intended. Shows that I did something right in there.

I have applied some of the fixes to the "snippet". The rest would require a rewrite to certain sections, so, it will have to wait until I'm more in the mood.

@Everyone

I feel a bit of inspiration. This is going to be a short one, and not a real snippet. It never happened in any campaign, but I think might be a fun read. I might start a series of shorts on it ... that is if it takes off. For now, I'm just treating it as writing practice.

Cronc goes to Anger Management

"Now, Mr. Cronc, let me begin by saying how happy I am with you for coming in to see me." Dr. Rhodes says in a calm voice, hiding his fear by flipping through his notebook, "This is the first step in managing your anger issues."

"Wuy Cronc lae on cowt?" Cronc barked.

"You don't need to lay down if you don't want to. Would you prefer to sit, or even stand?"

"No! Cronc wunt lae on cowt!"

"Okay?! Now, the first thing I would like us to focus on is how to turn your anger into more constructive means of of expressions. As opposed to destructive outbursts of rage."

"CUN ... STRE ..." Cronc tries to repeat the word, forcing each syllable. He does not know what it means and thinking about it is giving him a headache.

"Constructive" Dr. Rhodes interrupts, "it means to make things, not break things."

"OHHH! Cronc bracke tings reel gud!" Cronc shouted with joy, as he jumped up from the couch, axe in hand.

"No! No! DON'T! CRONC!"


***

A sign in front of a lot filled with debris. Reads simply, "Practice of Dr. Rhodes - Closed due to lack of building."

Dr. Rhodes stands in front of it. Slumped forward with a frown upon his face. Cronc approaches him and pats him on the back, knocking the doctor down.

"Cronc du reel gud, yah!"

PaperMustache
2012-09-10, 08:31 PM
@ Cronc Goes to Anger Management
I loled. I wish signs that say "Closed Due to Lack of Building" existed.

Hey guys... I wrote another one. Um... yeah.... I don't know why I did that. You don't have to read it, if you don't want to. Especially not since I haven't even critiqued anyone else's. I just had a mighty need to write stupid amounts of combat scenes... god I'm sorry this exists.

The Destruction of Amolarr: Part 2

Tension woke me early the next morning, for my first task today would likely be the most challenging. How was I to convince a noble paladin and a loyal barbarian to support an unabashedly tyrannical politician when they knew how much was at stake? No doubt the fighter would simply side with Malakar whatever his choice, as he was easily swayed and the barbarian was a kind and natural leader. Bronn was a lost cause from the start, there are no shades of grey in the mind of a holy warrior. Malakar, however, would do anything to ensure the survival of his tribesmen. If I could mislead him into thinking the election of Kathull would be in their best interests he would play directly into my hands.

It was with the beginnings of a scheme in mind that I joined my companions for breakfast. I found them huddled around a table downstairs, wiping the sleep from their eyes over hot tea and biscuits. The advantage was mine if I caught Malakar unprepared, so I forewent a more companionable greeting and cut to the quick.

“So I’ve been thinking” I announced as I pulled up a chair next to the drowsy barbarian, “as far as the candidates for counselor go, the correct choice might not be as obvious as we initially thought.”

“One of ‘ems a good man, the other’s a scheming evil maniac like you” he grumbled back, sharper than I had anticipated. I opted to ignore the insult for the present, mostly because he was right.

“That much is true” I conceded politely, “but have you given any thought as to who the people of the city might deem a more palatable choice?”

“Way I see it, the dwarves want Soluth, and all the noble types want Kathul” he reasoned, I could see him second guessing himself, “that’s a half and half split, yeh?”

“Not quite” I clarified, “the sides might be split fairly evenly, but Kathul’s supporters carry more weight in status and wealth. It will be much easier to sway favor to him because he represents the status quo. If we support him, he will win faster than his opponent. If we are to stop a bloody revolution from breaking out, Kathul is the obvious choice to stabilize this city quickly.”

“But Kathul is ruthless, if he is elected many will suffer” Malakar countered.

“If we take too long, everyone will suffer” I replied, setting the final trap, “including your precious tribes who rely on these people for trade.”

“The tribes of Falcon and Salamander have no business with this city” he retorted indignantly, “only the northern tribes rely on Amolar.”

“You’re right” I conceded as the trap closed in around him, “how ignorant of me. I was under the impression that you cared for all the tribes.”

Though he was much more intelligent than your average barbarian warrior, Malakar was still no match for a professional negotiator of my status. Having won his favor, the fighter fell into line just as I had anticipated. Only Bronn failed to join my cause. He sat quietly as I argued with the barbarian. As a dwarf of this city, I assumed he would be seething in anger and frustration at my success. If he was there was no sign of anger on his face.

“I cannot assist you in this deed” he said finally, “and I beg you to reconsider. My people will suffer and evil will have won if another noble sits on the council.”

I spoke quickly, before Malakar could reconsider, “our decision has been made. You came to us wanting to lend us aid and we have allowed you to keep our company, but your code does not dictate our actions.”

My harsh words did not infuriate him as I had hoped. He stood up from the table and gave me a calculating smile, “then I shall rejoin you after this matter has been dealt with.” With that, he departed from us.

After breakfast we set out to establish ourselves as Kathul’s allies. His offices were difficult to find, and there were armed guards outside. The blank faced defenders refused to let us pass, informing us that only those who had proven their loyalty to Kathul’s cause were permitted to enter. They initially refused to answer any further questions, but our persistence won out. Normally supporters proved their loyalty by representing their chosen candidate in the city arena: a bloody spectacle attended by nobles and peasants alike. Success in the arena earned the trust of the candidate.

The prospect of a day of arena fighting enthused my companions more so than it did me. Words were my weapons, and I wielded them with deadly effect, but the language of swords and blood was not one in which I was fluent. Still, it put my companions in a more favorable mood on our walk to the arena. They took precious little notice of me as they discussed tactics and strategy in excited tones.

It was decided that I was to stay out of their way during the fights. Based on my performance in previous skirmishes, I was not to use any offensive spells. Rather, I would stay behind my team mates and provide defensive support. I tried to argue that it would take only a few seconds to perform the full extent of my protective magics and that I might be of some use in short range with my claws. Instead Malakar pressed a crossbow into my hands and very conscendingly taught me the basics of pointing and shooting. It was during this humiliation that Bronn rejoined us briefly on our walk. I was right to worry that I hadn’t seen the last of him. The nosey dwarf seemed to have followed us from as far back as the tavern. He refused Malakar’s offer to join us in the arena, still staunch in his opposition to Kathul, but he offered us good will and good luck in our fights. Resigned to impotence, I began to follow my team mates into the arena. Bronn caught me by the shoulder before I could enter.

“Keep your guard up in there, yeh?” He muttered to me with a twinkle in his eye, “I’ve seen more casters get smashed to bits in this competition than anything else.”

“I’ll be fine” I spat at him, as I pushed past him. His presence was a bother and I had no reason to be kind to him.

Inside we were greeted by a weasel of a man in a top hat, the tournament coordinator, who helped us enlist ourselves on the roster. We were made to wait with our competitors in a wide hall. The room was packed with gritty fighters, monstrous contenders like harpies and half orcs, and the odd wizard. Towards the back, out of sight, were prisoners in chains. Barbarians and other ruffians who had been arrested and sentenced to public execution for the pleasure of arena goers.

“Gotta swell line up this afternoon, boys” the man-weasel announced to the room at large, “hope you lot are ready to die horribly! The crowd loves a good spectacle.”

It occurred to me for the first time that I might die here. Bronn’s talk of dead casters began to weigh heavily on my nerves. I couldn’t fight! I shouldn’t be here! I was going to get myself and my friends killed because I never bothered to hone my battle casting skills.

I was suddenly surprised at how worried I was for my companions. They were still bristling with anticipation, ready to take on whatever foes they faced. I had certainly never done them any favors in the past, nor had they done much to win my affection, but all the same I had grown comfortable with them. I knew their weaknesses, how to argue them into submission, how to ruin them. I knew that Howard was fair minded and a determined fighter. I knew that Malakar was loyal, brave, and terrifying in the heat of combat. I hadn’t realized I was growing attached to them. I used this realization to strengthen my resolve. If I was the single most skilled negotiator in this terrible, weak and pathetic land, if my employer was the most cunning and powerful magical force I had ever known, and if that thrice damned paladin was the most annoying person the world would ever see, then by the left testicle of Asmodeus these two idiots were the most dangerous martial force in this competition and we were going to win!

“In this corner, fighting for the favor of councilatory candidate Kathul: Malakar, Howard, and Kepesk!” The announcers voice boomed against the screaming crowds as we took are place in the arena.

Oh god oh god we’re all going to die.

“And, fighting for his own glory, the wizard Damien and his incredible construct of ice and fury!”

I summoned magical armor for my team mates as a terrifyingly huge ice golem plodded past the wizard to stand against us. A bell rang and the fight was on. I watched lamely as Malakar roared in defiance and threw himself at the monster recklessly, his legendary sword caught the sunlight as it sliced into the monster’s side. Howard slid into position beside him and hit with his own blade. I froze in fear as I witnessed the mighty golem turn to face Malakar, hitting him squarely in the chest with one mighty frozen arm.

“Do something” I told myself. I fumbled with the crossbow Malakar had given me, but in my fear I couldn’t remember how to use it. I wracked my brain for ways I could help, observing the golem carefully. Golems are constructed by wizards from different extra-planar materials. Useless. Probably vulnerable to fire as are white dragons. Useless. Slowed by electricity. I don’t remember where I heard that, but okay! I summoned my courage and cast a simple spell, sending a jolt of electricity whizzing toward the construct.

Like I hoped, the golem’s movement slowed just long enough for Malakar to dodge another devastating hit. Howard took the opportunity to hack at the golem’s foot, tripping it and sending it to the ground with a crash. From there it was a simple matter of beating the brute to death, which my friends managed with ease. Cheers went up from the crowd as the wizard screamed in defeat. We were declared victorious.

My companions were empowered by our victory, pumping their fists high to the applause of the crowds. I scanned the audience, not all of them were cheering. Screaming loudest were the nobles, drunk with wine and adrenaline in the balconies far from the bloodshed. In the lower levels, commoners booed us, equally drunk. Somewhere among the commoners I spotted Bronn, clapping along politely. He caught my eye briefly, the corner of his mouth turned up in a cheeky grin. I glared in defiance. He was wrong, I wasn’t dead yet.

My defiance was short lived. As soon as we retreated from the arena floor I had to run to grab a bucket to vomit into. I was shaking, my nerves were shot. I reminded myself that I was a powerful sorceress, an agent of the mirror realm. I stood against ancient societies, I treated with dragons, I should not be completely crippled by the thought of entering physical combat.

But I was, and I spent the hour and a half of rest we were allowed between matches desperately trying to compose myself. My companions had the good sense to leave me alone. Malakar had been wounded badly. It took half of the potions he had bought yesterday to heal him back into fighting shape, but he grinned through it and let no one see his weakness. His bravado did nothing against the remaining three rounds we had left. At this rate our supplies would not last long enough to heal us fully after each match.

It was all too soon that the weasely coordinator came to retrieve us for our next fight. As we entered the ring we faced two harpies. One had her mouth sewn shut, the threads tore through the nearly healed puncture wounds, giving way to fresh blood as she scowled at us. She was equipped with a mace. The other was unarmed. The announcer called out our names to the cheering crowds, the bell rang, and the fight was on.

As I readied my crossbow, resolute to actually use the thing this time, the second harpy flew forward. She opened her mouth and began to sing beautifully. My nerves melted away and I began to walk towards the mesmerizing sound, only partially aware that I was being controlled. I felt Howard fall into step beside me and we both stopped in front of the harpy. We seemed to stand there for ages listening to her. I could have easily fallen asleep right in the middle of the arena.

I had just began to daydream about flying with the dragons I had known at home when I lived in the south when a horrific screech brought me back to my senses. Malakar was a few feet away, his sword dripped with the blood of the mute harpy. Her sister had cried out in grief when she fell from the sky.
I summoned my dragon claws reflexively as Howard lashed out at the grieving harpy, slicing off a wing and sending her plummeting to the ground. Malakar ran and slashed at her with his legendary blade and I plunged my entire hand deep into the harpy’s chest.

As the crowd cheered, I got a feeling I hadn’t anticipated. I was finally in my element. I scanned the crowd for the drunken nobles I had noticed earlier. If they wanted a spectacle, I could give them one.

In one swift motion I jerked my hand out of the dead harpy’s chest, pulling her severed heart with it and letting the body slump to the ground. I held it high to the cheering nobles as blood dripped down my arm. The crowd ate the scene up, even the commoners were cheering. I had probably ruined my robes, but if I played my cards right it might be worth it. I strode purposefully off the stage, leaving my befuddled companions to follow after me.
During our break I found my way into the stands and up to the high balcony where the drunk nobles were, harpy heart in hand. Rich people were always particularly good targets for a fleecing. I was recognized immediately and another cheer went out to greet me. I found one stumbling drunk elven man who eyed the heart greedily.

“I’m looking for some healing potions” I said casually, “perhaps if you had some we could make a trade?”

“Yesh, gimme that an’ you cun have these” the man slurred, producing three potions that I recognized from the potion master’s shop as cure serious wounds.

I made the trade, glad to be rid of the stinking flesh. It had been disgusting and kept warm from her body heat for much longer than I felt comfortable with. I didn’t bother to wash off, better to remind the audience and my opponents what I was capable of. Lets see the bastards pound this spellcaster into the ground. I met back with my companions. Malakar had been wounded worse than I realized. I supplied a potion of cure serious wounds to him with a fiendish grin.

“Turns out I’m good for something after all.” I mentioned as he uncorked the bottle.

“I’ll drink to that” he replied.

We went into the next round with confidence. My nerves were all but gone, tucked behind pride. As I stood behind my companions I took a moment to appreciate the potential of this situation. If we kept up our winning streak I could very easily make some powerful friends among the nobles. Good connections were worth more than enough to cover the potions we were using.

We were to fight a group representing Soluth this round, an important fight to be sure. This was our first chance to catch Kathul’s eye and win his favor. Our competitors were a band of brothers, of comparable composition to us. They each wore armor, although only two brandished weapons. A wizard in chain mail waited in the back. Hopefully the armor would hinder his spellcasting long enough for us to deal with him. The opponents were introduced, the bell rang and the fight was on.

Immediately Malakar and Howard met blades with the fighters. I started looking for weaknesses, but got nothing useful other than the fact that they put their caster in chainmail. So not very bright. The wizard tried to cast a spell, but failed in a sputter of red sparks. I recognized it as a devastating fire attack. My opponent was certainly more skilled in the arcane than I was, but not so skilled that he could afford to cast that particular spell more than once or twice.

I grinned at him from across the field as if to say, “That’s why you don’t wear armor, idiot.”

The fight seemed to be leaning in our favor for the time being. I ensure that my companions kept up the magical armor I cast on them earlier and fired a crossbow bolt or two at the fighters. All seemed to be going according to plan until Malakar swung too wide and missed his opponent. The fighter was quick to jam his sword deep into the barbarian’s side. He went down hard. I didn’t have time to wonder if he was still alive as the fighter moved to confront me. I summoned my claws and engaged him.

In the end I didn’t have a chance. Howard saw me lash out at the fighter, raking my claws along his face, but I was too easy a target. No sooner had I hit him than he sliced into my chest with his sword. Another second and a magic missile from the wizard knocked me off my feet.

I could feel the opposing spell caster’s satisfaction. “That’s why you wear armor, idiot” I imagined him gloating. I reeled backwards and in an instant all my fear returned. I was going to die. I saw Howard widen his stance to face both fighters at once. I hit the ground painfully and winced as darkness started to overwhelm my vision. I fought to stay conscious. To reach into my bag for a potion, so close but so far away. To cast another spell. To do something! But I was useless again. As I sank into unconsciousness I thought I heard a familiar voice shouting a battlecry in front of me. I must have been hallucinating because through my clouded vision I could have sworn I saw a man fighting at Howard’s side.

I woke up to the world’s most annoying dwarf standing over me, force feeding me a potion. I gasped back to life in his arms, breathing heavily. The two fighters lay dead a few short feet away and the wizard had been killed where he stood a few yards further. Malakar was just getting up, dusting himself off like nothing happened. It finally hit me that the crowd was screaming uncontrollably. Some booed, but the majority cheered. I looked to the paladin for answers.

“Didn’t I tell you to be on your guard out here?” he chided as if we were friends, “c’mon lets get you out of here.” He took my arm and helped me out of the arena, I was too weak to protest.

As Malakar and I tended to our wounds, Howard filled us in on what had happened after I went down. When he saw that we were losing, Bronn flung himself into the ring with a mighty bellow. He took the fighters so by surprise that he cut one of them down before he could react. They doubled up on the second fighter and made short work of him. It seemed the wizard never did get off that powerful fire spell and they made short work of him once his brothers fell.

Bronn was in the corner talking to the coordinator who was gushing about how “amazing” he had been, how the crowds had never cheered louder in all his years of running this arena, how Bronn “simply MUST stay on for the last round.” The paladin was grinning sheepishly and nodding his head. It seemed as if he would be joining us after all.

It took two of our three cure serious potions to restore Malakar and I to any semblance of fighting form, and five cure light potions besides. Before our break was up we were approached by representatives of Kathul’s campaign, telling us that we had proved our worth to the counselor to be and that they were honored by our support. If we managed to slay the final challenge, some exotic monster of legend captured specifically for this event, that we would be welcome in their offices.

We didn’t have a choice in whether or not we wanted to face the final fight, it was implied by our registry and our participation would be enforced by the city guards. The people would get their spectacle. I asked around for information on the challenger, but no one was forthcoming with information.
As we entered the ring, the crowd grew uncharacteristically quiet. A massive gate to the left of us creaked open ominously and four men pulling chains emerged from within. At the end of the chains was a young white dragon. I ached for the condition he was in. Its wings had been cut down to nubs, the part of its throat that facilitated his breath weapon had been gouged beyond repair. At some point the crowd started cheering again, but I was too shocked to hear them. The dragon roared in rage as the handlers let go of his chains, and he swung his massive head to the side to catch one of them as he fled. He gulped the man down in a single swallow, which made me smile. A dragon would not be “handled” by any man. My shock gave way to fury at the thought of abusing such a creature. I must kill the beast, but I could at least give him a clean death. More than I could guarantee the screaming on lookers who spat and threw rocks at the dragon below. It solidified my resolve to burn this city to the ground and force its inhabitants screaming into the mirror realm to become fodder for my master’s endless war.

The fight was on as soon as the dragon was released, my companions rushed forward to attack. I wondered if they knew that this dragon wasn’t able to use its breath weapon. It made no matter, as I ran to join them. I was out of spells so I summoned my dragon claws, a fitting weapon.

The fight was hard, as every blow Malakar struck with his legendary sword sent the beast into fits of rage, it clawed at us and sunk it’s fangs into the barbarian’s chest. Howard hacked at the dragons legs in a miserable attempt to trip the beast. Bronn’s weapon shone with holy magic that enraged the dragon ever further. I was knocked back at some point in the fight and forced to use what little ranged weaponry I could manage.

The dragon kept us on the defensive, almost backing us against the far wall where we started. Just as it reared its head back to deliver a killing blow to Malakar, Howard finally managed to knock the beast off balance. It fell with a thud to the ground and each of us in turn delivered one last blow before the beast stopped moving.

The crowd cheered stupidly. I put them out of my mind as I went to offer a silent tribute to the fallen dragon. Bronn joined me, I suppose being a paladin he had an inclination towards reverence. I put a hand on the dragon’s noble snout as Bronn said some kind of prayer. It was inappropriate, but I made no action to stop him.

When we returned to the hall to collect our reward, the coordinator slapped us each on the back in turn. “That was the most amazing fight this arena has ever seen!” he exalted, “No one has ever beaten the dragon before! You guys were incredible!”

We accepted our rewards, 500 platinum pieces each. I allowed myself to celebrate our survival and even our victory. The drunken noble from earlier tracked me down to shake my hand and slipped me an extra 200 gold pieces. I thanked him while imagining what he might look like as a smear of blood reflected infinitely on every surface of the mirror realm.

This inane distraction was finally over and the real work could begin. I graciously declined Malakar’s invitation to join the rest of the group for a pint and retreated to the inn to clean myself up in preparation for our meeting with Kathul. If I had my way, we would be rid of this place as soon as possible.

Lady Moreta
2012-09-10, 10:06 PM
So where is your critique on Jessica's back story?

Dr Bwaa got around to it, what's taking you so long.

You told me poking people into reading your writing is acceptable. Can't blame me for using your advice ... on you.

Yes, but phrasing things as a request, not a demand, and saying 'please' would help.

And the reason is that I haven't read it yet. A cold, coupled with a persistent headache, a couple of bad days and a general inability to get in the right frame of mind to read and review have all conspired against me. The cold is gone, the headache still appears to be lingering, the bad days - eh, we'll see, and there's not much I can do about the general inability... at least, not right now, because right now I have to return a library book and go to the supermarket.

mebecronck
2012-09-11, 07:03 AM
Yes, but phrasing things as a request, not a demand, and saying 'please' would help.


Sorry about that. This is something like Poe's Law here. I was not giving a demand, I was being ... well ... sarcastic wouldn't be accurate ... hmmm ...

Ever had a friend nudge you, while saying, "Come on ... come one."

Humorous and friendly was what I was aiming for, but without a smiley I couldn't properly convey it.

For example, though. I read your response, and you might have intended it as more of an "calm" "matter-of-fact" tone, but I can't help but read it as you are furious with me - "How dare that ***hole demand I read his crappy writing" - and am afraid I just lost a friend.

My bad. I wouldn't demand anyone to read anything.

PaperMustache
2012-09-11, 02:08 PM
Well I'll do it! Even though I never write and have no idea what the difference is between valid criticism and being a jerk! WEEEEE I'M USEFUL!

@mebecronc


An attractive girl, with long blonde hair mixed with pure white streaks, large feathered wings, a lithe body, and pale blue eyes. This young girl lived a sheltered life. On a small island surrounded by monks that had long ago taken a vow of silence.

I feel like the character's physical description can be worked into the story instead of laying it out in th first line. If you wanted to start out with it right out of the gate, there isn't anything wrong with it, but when I try to write something and can't figure out where to start I usually get stuck with a description of the character instead of a good hook. You might be able to deal with this and flesh out her surroundings better if she were doing something like taking a walk and reflecting on relevant information. Have descriptions of her eyes, her hair, her wings etc as they interact with the world you've put her in.


They have but two purposes, two goals in life.

1. To protect the sacred plant, that only grows on this island, from the outside world. For it is the key ingredient for making Panacea.
2. To protect Jessica from the outside world, for reasons never fully explained to her.

This is more information that would be better shown than told. Have her interact with an overprotective monk as an obstacle or briefly describe something they won't let her do other than leave th island. Also, if the plant isn't relevent to Jessica herself, perhaps we don't need to know that it is an ingredient for panacea.


He fought his way into the Ninth Layer of Hell and slapped (with his long sword) Asmodeus right across the face, and returned to tell the tale.
I don't think slapped is a cool enough word to describe a paladin charging into hell and matching blows with freaking Asmodeus himself. Slapping isn't even something you do with a long sword. Perhaps slashing or something. This is a really cool image and it makes her dad look like a bad ass, but it needs to be at least 20% more epic.


Her father, over time, started to visit less and less, but she feels like he is always watching.
You've got a bit of a tense problem here and in other places, flip flopping where you don't need to. I think it is easy to fix, just decide whether the story is being told as it happens or looking back on it and work from there.


Cronc always has a smile on his face. A feature offset by the whole picture. He looms over everyone else around him, even with the fact that he stands hunched over. Tremendous muscles bulge from everywhere but his belly, which is girthed over from too much meat and booze. Scars cover his body.

I like Cronc :smallsmile:


After sharing tales of adventures and fighting, he would ask, "Wat yu wunt do?" No matter what she answered, he would find some way to make it happen. Regardless of his limited skill set.

No really, I freaking love this guy.


He was blamed for the girl's death and chased out of town.
Kronk no! :smallfrown: I demand more gut wrenching details. His futile efforts to save his drowning friend, the rage of the townspeople when they learned what happened, descriptions of him being run off. Make me cry! I demand it!


On her sixteenth birthday, when her father came to visit, she asked him a simple question. A simple question that lead to lengthy debates, arguments, and even yelling.

"Can I leave the monastery?"

...she didn't think to ask if she could leave until she was sixteen? It seems a little rushed to me and I think the story would benefit from a more detailed confrontation. If for no other reason to explain to the reader the nature of this girl's relationship with her father. They seem distant, Cronc acts like more of an affectionate father figure than the paladin. If this is the case, this is an interesting dynamic and I want to know more. If it isn't, seeing the worried father fret over his daughter going out into the world alone would also benefit the characterization.


" ... if you ever need me, for any reason, I will always be there."
Is he a god? Because if he is a totally called it. How else would she feel like he was "always with her"? I'm all kinds of on to you.

Overall thoughts:
I really like the world you've set up around this character and I think her inquisitive and nurturing personality flows logically from her up bringing. You just need to switch your tenses right way around and it's pretty darn great. I enjoyed reading it and I'm really sorry if I seem too critical or things I suggested don't make any sense.