View Full Version : Creative Writing Showcase

2006-08-12, 03:45 AM
Are you a writer? Or perhaps you are just starting out and need some feedback? Or maybe you just like to peruse other peoples' short (and not so short) stories. If so, you've come to the right place.

If you would like to showcase your creative writing, please provide a brief description and a link to your work (don't post your work directly in this thread). You may post your work on an external site (I will provide links in this post once people provide suggestions) or you may start a thread in this forum and provide a link to that.

2006-08-12, 04:27 AM
Prologue and first chapter on this (http://www.giantitp.com/cgi-bin/yabb/YaBB.pl?board=arts;action=display;num=1155156328) page.

The Prince of Cats
2006-08-12, 07:35 AM
Site here (http://tales.dragonstalon.co.uk/) and the first two chapters here (http://tales.dragonstalon.co.uk/tales/teaser.pdf) (PDF)

A warning now; these pages do include themes of violence and some implicit sexual violence.

Half of me whats to publish it properly and the other half wants to put it up online chapter by chapter (and there are many more chapters) like a webcomic and include a donations button...

2006-08-12, 09:27 AM
EDIT: It is no longer available, due to me not wanting to pay more. Maybe I'll get a Deviantart account and post it there.

EDIT2: Or I'll just put it in a nifty spoiler tag.

The Lord of Cookies

The Lord of Cookies sits on his throne. The throne room of the Lord of Cookies is a great hall within the castle of the Lord of Cookies. The hall is dimly lit by one torch beside the throne. Neither the ceiling nor any but one wall can be seen from the throne. A long red carpet runs from under the throne into the darkness.

The throne is on a raised dais against one wall of the throne room. It is made out of rich, dark wood. The armrests have been carved to resemble two lions: a lion on the right and a lioness on the left.

The Lord of Cookies is not a king, or else he would be the King of Cookies. He is just a lord. He wears a three-piece black suit. It is the kind of clothing that a king would not wear but a lord might. The Lord of Cookies wears it with a red silk tie. It is a very expensive suit, accompanied by expensive leather shoes polished to a high black sheen. He wears this expensive suit to set him apart from his associates, such as the Knave—called a Knave even though she is female—to his right. The Guard, a young man, stands to his left.

The Lord of Cookies sits on his throne. His hands grip the armrests. His grey eyes stare straight ahead at nothing in particular. He has very curly grey-white hair which has been cut short to prevent it from growing into a ridiculous Afro and making him look like an idiot. The Lord of Cookies is not a handsome man. He is old and his skin is heavily cragged. His posture while sitting on the throne is drooped.

The Lord of Cookies employs three people: the Knave, the Guard and the Baker. The Baker makes the cookies, and the Lord of Cookies knows that the cookies the Baker makes are very good cookies, but the Baker is always out of sight, hidden in the kitchen. The Lord of Cookies is not exactly sure where in his castle the kitchen is.

The Lord of Cookies sits on his throne, not moving. Suddenly, he speaks.


The throne room echoes with the word. No one moves, not even the Lord of Cookies.

“I desire cookies.”

His voice has risen. No one moves for several moments.

“Bring me cookies, Knave!” he shouts.

The Knave moves to action. She has been standing at ease, like a soldier. She moves to attention and pivots toward Lord of Cookies. She speaks:

“What form or type of cookie would you like, my lord?”

The Knave has blonde hair that she has pulled into a tight bun. She wears an expensive white silk blouse with a black skirt. She wears leather high-heel shoes. She has a golden bracelet and two silver earrings. The earrings were a gift from her husband, the Guard.

The Lord of Cookies responds. “You may bring me any type of cookie with the exception of chocolate chip. I despise chocolate chip cookies. Do not bring me chocolate chip.”

The Knave waits beside the Lord of Cookies for a moment. “Is there any particular brand that you would like, my lord?”

The Lord of Cookies pauses for a moment. “Oreos™. I desire Oreos™. Bring me Oreos™, Knave.”
The Knave turns and leaves to retrieve the Oreos™ for the Lord of Cookies. She walks into the darkness of the throne room, toward the kitchen.

The Lord of Cookies sits on his throne to contemplate his choice of cookies. He is not sure that he should have chosen Oreos™, nor is he entirely sure of his dislike for chocolate chip cookies. He does not turn to his Guard, but he speaks to him.

“Guard,” he says.

“My lord.”

The Guard is a good-looking young man. His rich brown hair has been cut a bit long but it has been stylishly combed. He wears a black two-piece suit with a blue tie. He has a gold lapel pin given to him as a gift by his wife, the Knave.

“What preference do you have for cookies?”

The Guard thinks for a moment. “I have no preference, my lord.”

“Then you like them all equally?”

“Yes, my lord.”

I should like them all equally, thinks the Lord of Cookies. I am the Lord of Cookies. I should like them all equally. I should have no preference. I should not detest any individual one. I should not detest any.

Why do I prefer Oreos™? wonders the Lord of Cookies. He does not favour them exclusively. He is also fond of Villa Puffs™, jam cookies and peanut butter. And he does not dislike chocolate chip cookies exclusively either. He also does not like shortbread cookies, oatmeal cookies or raisin cookies.

He does not know what feature of Oreos™ attracts him the most. Neither does he know what feature of chocolate chip cookies repels him the most. He thinks about the shape and the form of the two cookies. The Oreo™ is smaller. The chocolate chip is larger. That distinction alone should shift the balance in favour of the chocolate chip.

How does one become Lord of Cookies when one does not like all cookies, the Lord of Cookies asks himself.

The Knave returns, bearing the Oreos™ on a plain white plate. They are neatly piled in a pyramid. The Lord of Cookies selects the one on top and contemplates its shape. It is small, the outer edges of the wafers carefully ridged like the edge of a quarter and the top stamped with as much precision.

He runs his fingers around the outside before twisting it apart. The cookie is stubborn and his old and brittle fingers cannot force it apart. The wafer then snaps instead of being pulled apart. It is now in two large pieces, cut in half like a sandwich. The Lord of Cookies eats them both.

There is nothing about the taste of the Oreo™ that is superior to a chocolate chip cookie. In many ways, a chocolate chip cookie is superior to the Oreo™ in taste: not as dense or so obviously synthetic. Yet the Lord of Cookies prefers Oreo™ cookies to chocolate chip cookies and he does not know why.

“What type of cookies do you prefer, Knave?”

“I have no preference, my lord.”

“Then you like them all equally.” It is not a question this time. It is a statement.

“Yes, my lord.”

The Lord of Cookies pauses for a moment. He considers what the Knave has said.

“Tell me,” he says. “How many types of cookies have you eaten?”

“I cannot exactly recall the number, my lord.”

“Have you ever eaten an Oreo™?”

“My lord?”

“Have you ever eaten an Oreo™?”

“Not that I can recall, my lord.”

“Eat one.”

The Knave hesitantly reaches her hand up to the plate and takes hold of one of the Oreos™. She brings it to her mouth and bites. After a moment of slow grinding and chewing, she swallows.

“Tell me, what did you think?”

The Knave is silent for a moment.

“Did you like it?”

The Knave nods her head. “Yes, my lord.”

“Tell me,” he asks. “What did you like best about it?”

“My lord?”

“What was it about the Oreo™ that made you appreciate it?”

The Knave is silent. She thinks about the question the Lord of Cookies has just asked. To her, it is a strange question. She does not know why he has just asked it. To answer questions is not her job. Neither is to eat the cookies. The Lord of Cookies eats the cookies. She serves the cookies. She does not eat them.

“I cannot exactly tell, my lord.”

The Lord of Cookies turns his head to look at her.

“Do you mean that you like the Oreo™, but you cannot say why?”

The Knave pauses for a moment. “Yes, my lord.”

The Lord of Cookies thinks. “Have you ever eaten a chocolate chip cookie?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“How would you compare the chocolate chip to the Oreo™?”

“I would not know how, my lord.”

“Would you say that either the chocolate chip or the Oreo™ was superior?”

The Knave thinks for a moment. She is overwhelmed by the questions. She answers: “I would say that the Oreo™ was superior, my lord.”

“But you could not say how.”

“No, my lord.”

The Lord of Cookies turns to the Guard. He considers the guard, in his two-piece suit, for a moment.

“Guard,” he says.

“My lord.”

“How often do you eat cookies?”

“Very occasionally, my lord.”

“Have you ever eaten a chocolate chip cookie?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Have you ever eaten an Oreo™ cookie?”

“No, my lord.”

“Eat one now.”

The guard walks over to the plate in the Knave’s hands and removes and Oreo™ cookie from the pyramid. He eats it.

“How would you compare the two: the chocolate chip and the Oreo™?”

The Guard thinks. “I would say that the Oreo™ is superior.”

“You previously said that you have no preference.”

“I had not yet had an Oreo™, my lord.”

“True. And now, you consider Oreos™ to be superior?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Could you explain why?”

“No, my lord.”

“Could you identify the qualities—specific qualities—that you feel make the Oreo™ superior to any other cookie?”

“No, my lord.”

“Then why do you feel the Oreo™ to be superior?”

The Guard thinks for a long moment. “I do not know, my lord.”

The Lord of Cookies picks up another Oreo™ from the tray. He fondles it and rolls it in his hand. Again, he tries to twist it apart. This time, he succeeds. He gently pries off the cream spread with his tongue and consumes it. It is sugary and essentially flavourless. It tastes very much manufactured. He enjoys it.

What is it that makes the Oreo™ superior? The Lord of Cookies wonders as he eats the chocolate wafers which, in flavour, resembles chocolate in no way at all.

“So we are agreed,” asks the Lord of Cookies, “that the Oreo™ is the greatest of all cookies?”

He looks to the Knave, who nods. “Yes, my lord.”

He looks at the Guard, who nods. “Yes, my lord.”

The Lord of Cookies picks up another Oreo™ and stares at it. “We might ask the Baker what makes the Oreo™ superior.”

The Knave and the Guard remain still, not moving, save to breathe. A minute passes.

“Fetch the Baker, Knave!” The Lord of Cookies raises his voice suddenly. He pounds on the armrest of his throne. The Guard and the Knave jump. The Knave quickly turns and heads into the darkness of the throne room again.

The Lord of Cookies sits on his throne in the darkness, contemplating why the Oreo™ appears to be superior to all other cookies—why he should find it superior to the chocolate chip cookie in particular. He can find no reason.

The Knave returns. Her hands are empty. Presumably, she has returned the plate of Oreos™ to the Kitchen. She walks to stand in front of the Lord of Cookies.

“Where is the Baker,” asks the Lord of Cookies. He is visibly annoyed.

“He could not come, my lord,” the Knave says passionlessly.

“Why not?”

“He is currently baking cookies, my lord.”

“Why did you leave the Oreos™?”

“The Baker asked me to, my lord.”

“Bring me another plate, then.”

“He said that he could not make any more cookies for you today, my lord.”

“What? Guard! Fetch the Baker and bring him here!”
The Lord of Cookies stands up, furious with rage. The Guard hastens to obey and turns and walks off into the darkness of the throne room, in the opposite direction from where the Knave emerged.

The Guard re-emerges. He walks to stand beside the Lord of Cookies, who is livid that the Guard is unaccompanied.

“Where is the Baker,” the Lord of Cookies demands.

“He said he could not come, my lord.”

The Lord of Cookies steps down from the platform on which his throne rests. He walks to the Guard and hits him fiercely in the face. The Guard does not strike back.

The Lord of Cookies then walks into the darkness. He is unsure of where the kitchen is, but he walks in the direction from where the Guard arrived.

He walks and continues to walk. The throne disappears behind him. He walks for minutes until he is unsure of his direction. He finds a wall and follows it. It leads to an archway. A corridor stretches into another darkness.

“Baker!” The shouts of the Lord of cookies echo down the passageway. There is no response.

“Baker!!” Again there is no response. The Lord of Cookies waits tentatively at the entrance to the passageway. He feels the stone masonry walls. They are cold. The air is silent around him.

The Lord of Cookies begins to walk down the passageway. His footsteps are tentative. The hallway is long and bare. There are no side passages. Finally, he comes to the end where there is a spiral staircase going down. The Lord of Cookies descends. He travels down until he comes to the bottom, where there is another hallway. This one contains many side passages and the Lord of Cookies soon becomes lost in a maze of corridors. He is lost in his own castle. To concept does not please him. This is his castle.

“Baker!” The Lord of Cookies shouts again. His shouts do not echo in the dark passageways.

He begins to walk faster, taking turn after turn. In his mind, he thinks that if he just keeps taking left turns, then he will find a way out. It is logical. He begins to run. Left turn. Left turn. Left turn. Left turn.

“BAKER!” There is no echo. There is no reply.

“BAKER!!!” The Lord of Cookies begins to lose his breath from running. He slows down and shouts again. “BAKER!!! BAKER!!!”

His voice gives out and the Lord of Cookies begins to pant for breath. His breaths are deep and his old lungs struggle with the exhaustion. He slowly sits down to regain his breath.

After a while he stands again and begins to walk slowly through the maze. Left turn. Left turn. Then there is a door.

It is a large wooden door at the end of the corridor. There is no handle or hinges. It swings outward into whatever lies beyond it.

The Lord of Cookies walks up to it. He listens at it. He can hear no sound.

He taps his knuckles against the door. The sound they make is faint. “Baker,” he calls. There is no response.

He presses his body on the door. It is heavy and moves only slightly. The Lord of Cookies is weak and cannot force the door easily. He presses hard, and eventually the door gives way enough to let him through.

The room beyond is dark, but the Lord of Cookies can see a light source at the far end. It is an oven, with an overhead light. On top of the range rests two sheets of cookies, one of Oreos™ and one of chocolate chip. The Lord of Cookies recognizes the Oreos™ as the ones he was eating earlier. The chocolate chip cookies have not been touched.

The Lord of Cookies knows he has found the kitchen. It is obvious. But he does not know where the Baker is.

“Baker?” The tentative question is not answered. The Lord of Cookies steps up to the oven and notices that there are cookies baking inside of it. They are chocolate chip. He can see the dough beginning to rise and the chips beginning to melt.
Beside the oven, there is a table in the kitchen where the baker mixes the dough. The top of the table is clear except for a single sheet of paper. The Lord of Cookies walks over to the table and examines the paper.

1 cup flour
¼ cup brown sugar
¾ cup white sugar
½ cup vegetable shortening
1 large egg or 2 small eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
½ tsp baking soda
½ tsp salt
1 handful of chocolate chips

Mix flour, sugars and salt. Add shortening, egg and vanilla. Mix thoroughly. Dough should be slightly crumbly. Add chocolate chips. Scoop into small globs on baking sheet. Bake at 450º F for 15-20 min or until golden brown. Let cool for 5 min.

It is a recipe for chocolate chip cookies. The Lord of Cookies cannot see a recipe for Oreos™.

The Lord of Cookies does not hear the Baker sneak up on him. He did not notice the Baker hiding behind the door as he entered. He does not feel the rush of air as the knife used by the baker to cut chunks of shortening from the large block is thrown. He does not feel the dirty, lard-covered blade hit the back of his neck. The Lord of Cookies only knows that at one minute he is alive and the next he is not.

The Baker watches his knife strike the neck of the Lord of Cookies. He watches the body of the Lord of Cookies go limp and collapse under the table.

The Baker walks over to the oven and pries a single chocolate chip cookie off the sheet and eats it. He feels the still melted chocolate spread over his tongue. To him, it tastes good.

Suddenly he hears a noise and the door to the kitchen flies open. The Guard and the Knave charge in.

The Knave and the Guard sum up the situation quickly. The Lord of Cookies is dead, killed by the Baker. They, as part of the court of the Lord of Cookies, are surely next. The Baker is a fat, tall man. He has thick though hardly muscular arms and a menacing posture. The Guard wonders if they will be able to take him down, even together.

The Baker leaps for the body of the Lord of Cookies to grab the knife embedded in the corpse’s neck. The Guard jumps in his way and is shoved to the ground. The Knave runs and grabs the knife. The Baker charges her. The Knave stabs the knife into the chest of the Baker, then again, then again. The Baker collapses to the ground.

The Knave and the Guard stand in silence for a moment, surveying the two dead bodies. The Knave wipes her hands on her blouse. The blood stains the expensive white silk.

“This makes you the new Lord of Cookies,” says the Knave to her husband.

“Yes,” says the new Lord of Cookies. He stands for a moment and ponders. “Bake me some more cookies.”

The Knave stands for a moment, then she asks: “What kind of cookies?”

The new Lord of Cookies thinks. “Any kind.”

The Knave turns and picks up the recipe from the table. She looks around for the pantry. She has to step around the two bodies to reach it. The new Lord of Cookies returns to the throne room and awaits his cookies. He feels unprotected without a guard. He will have to hire a new one.

Lord Iames Osari
2006-08-14, 01:05 PM
Edit: Clearly, my Internet-fu is inferior. You guys would not believe how difficult it was to get these links to work properly. Anyway, here is the beginning of my EFN :P.

Prologue (http://www.giantitp.com/cgi-bin/yabb/YaBB.pl?action=display;board=arts;num=1155156328;s tart=0#11) - In which Characters are Introduced, the Good Die Young, and a Prophecy is Revealed.
Chapter I (http://www.giantitp.com/cgi-bin/yabb/YaBB.pl?action=display;board=arts;num=1155156328;s tart=0#12) - In which Pirates capture Our Heroes, after which there is Romantic Tension

2006-09-06, 11:33 AM
Here is my short story, "Rain"
Rain. (http://www.giantitp.com/cgi-bin/yabb/YaBB.pl?board=arts;action=display;num=1155156328;s tart=15#24)

2006-09-06, 11:34 AM
Ooo, somebody please read and tell me what you think of this. It's got both the prolouge and the beginning to the final battle.

This is it. Please let me know. (http://web.ics.purdue.edu/~mlamar/ChristianPreview.html)

Also, here's my site with other cool story stuff: My Stories! (http://web.ics.purdue.edu/~mlamar/Storiesmain.html)

2006-09-15, 09:43 PM
A link to my story:
Damn. doesn't work.

2006-09-16, 08:25 AM
These are just some things I did for school.

The poem is really good ((no modesty))
the story is funny.

http://www.giantitp.com/cgi-bin/yabb/YaBB.pl?board=arts;action=display;num=1155156328;s tart=15#26

Mind you they're both copywrited.

2006-09-16, 01:34 PM
The first chapter of this (http://www.giantitp.com/cgi-bin/yabb/YaBB.pl?board=arts;action=display;num=1154055825) is complete. If you want to see the writing process, bickering, and conflicting goals all involved in cooperative writing, come here!

2006-09-23, 06:22 PM
I am currently working on a written adaption of the PC game Baldur's Gate


2006-09-26, 04:44 PM
Death in a Coffee Shop: Parts One & Two (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=1472357&postcount=33), Parts Three & Four (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=1472407&postcount=34), Parts Five & Six (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=1472456&postcount=35), Parts Seven & Eight (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=1472628&postcount=39)

Reflection of My Father (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=1472665&postcount=40)

Daedrous Avari
2006-10-02, 08:19 PM
Behold! The possibility of a story!

Daedrous stepped down from the large, odd-shaped rock overlooking the battlefield as if he got off a horse. The armies had yet to finish this battle, but what was the point of this non-stop fight? What was to gain in this mass death? He remembered what his father had told him – “Son, perk up, look at the skies, and know that this fight has a reason. It’s a fight for peace. It may not make so much sense to you now, but the meaning will come to your life.”

That was the last thing his father told him before he went off to his own death in the battlefield.

He repeated it ten times over in his head, and looked at the battlefield. From this height, it looked like a battle between to ant colonies. A great comparison for his mind to use, without thinking of human killing human. The ‘fire’ ants, as he called them, had better weaponry and had the advantage in the battle - The opposite colony. And the army ants had nothing. They were smaller and the queen was already dead.

The king was already dead, and the enemy army was better. But that didn’t change anything. All that mattered was that mass death was coming.

Daedrous once more stepped off of the rock, and returned home.


This could be the beginnings of a long-term story for me to write, I don’t know.

2006-10-04, 10:34 AM
If you want comments on your work, you should start a new thread (or host it offsite if you wish) and link to it. This is really just a database of those that are floating around.

If everyone started a several post long story and wanted comments on it this thread would be chaos! ;)

2006-10-13, 03:45 PM
The Aftermath of Chaos (http://www.giantitp.com/cgi-bin/yabb/YaBB.pl?board=arts;action=display;num=1160768517)

The Aftermath of Chaos is the story of an assassin and her quest to finish the longest job she has ever been on.

Feor (http://www.giantitp.com/cgi-bin/yabb/YaBB.pl?board=arts;action=display;num=1161018205;s tart=0#0)

Feor is a fantasy story told from multiple viewpoints. The main characters are Felva, Sandro, Endrin, and Angus.

Cold Nights (http://www.giantitp.com/cgi-bin/yabb/YaBB.pl?board=arts;action=display;num=1161020320;s tart=0#0) (PG-13)

Cold Nights is a modern-day story of vampires and sci-fi reporter Katie Ryse's experience with them.

Read them, tell me if you like them, hate them, whatever. Any input is appreciated.

Edit: Would it be possible for the first page of this thread to contain an index of all the links received? I wouldn't mind maintaining such a thread, but without a sticky it wouldn't be likely to catch on.

2006-10-17, 02:18 PM
Here's one I wrote to set the mood for a homebrew setting. Rated PG, but the rest of the board...should be avoided. Not exactly polite conversation. Totally open to criticism...let me know if you think it sucked or rocked...


Eldritch Knight
2006-10-18, 06:52 PM
Ah! Excellent... I shall post a link to a now discontinued version of my epic tale.... For the real one.... wait until it's published.... MUH-HA-HA-HA!!!! ;D

The Prologue


A Lowly Beginning

2006-10-28, 04:23 AM
I have an Elfwood account (http://elfwood.lysator.liu.se/libr/d/e/deiren/deiren.html) with a few of the works that I wrote.

Of the stories there, only this one (http://elfwood.lysator.liu.se/libr/d/e/deiren/short_story___virgin_meat.txt.html) is relatively new and what I'd consider on par with my current writing skill.

2006-10-28, 10:14 PM
I am working on a story that can be found here. (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=26337) Feel free to check it out. For some other stories (cough cough one cough) you can go here. (http://jacklushortstories.blogspot.com/)

Dire Penguin
2006-10-30, 07:25 PM
Other thread on GiantITP Forums is now showing:

Dave the Ostrich (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=1489933#post1489933)

This my short story on how an ostrich with an unrecognized talent hits the big time. Yeah...I know you're real interested now!

Comments, and story writing advice are to be posted on that forum page.

Eldritch Knight
2006-11-01, 08:23 PM
A D&Dish poem I wrote.


Renegade Paladin
2006-11-03, 03:06 PM
Trollbane (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?26753-Incomplete-novel-Trollbane), a novel in progress set in the Forgotten Realms, centering on one of my characters.

2006-11-15, 10:17 AM
How do you post a link for storys/poems if there not on a web site??

The Prince of Cats
2006-11-15, 12:44 PM
How do you post a link for storys/poems if there not on a web site??

First of all, I must offer the obligatory RTFM! (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/misc.php?do=bbcode) (in particular, THIS (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/misc.php?do=bbcode#url) will be helpful)

Try using; "[ url=myurl]mylink[/url]" without the space...

2006-11-24, 04:41 PM
I made very short poem:
Hope you like it

2006-11-27, 06:44 AM
A short but growing sci-fi story: Daedalus (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=28303).

Hilary Moon Murphy
2006-12-06, 10:39 AM
Here are links to two of my previously published stories. (They are RTF files. I haven't gotten my stories up as HTML on my website yet.)

The Grand Cheat (http://files.meetup.com/137839/FUN%20%5Bhmm%5D%20Grandcheat.rtf) -- Originally published in Tales of the Unanticipated

Run of the Fiery Horse (http://files.meetup.com/137839/FUN%20%5Bhmm%5D%20Run%20of%20the%20fiery%20horse%2 0.rtf) -- Originally published in Realms of Fantasy

If you enjoy them, pm me.



2006-12-08, 09:53 PM
Congratulations on getting into Realms of Fantasy: I just read a trial issue cover to cover today and they seem to keep a fairly high standard. I'll have to check that out. ^.^

Rewired (http://www.teenink.com/Past/2004/May/17808.html), A sci-fi story set in a distopian near-future. This was a highschool creative writing project and (despite its length) was published in Teen Inc magazine. Nothing amazing, I know, but hearing it read aloud did freak out some of the other students. :smallwink:

Renegade Paladin
2006-12-12, 02:50 AM
Shades of Eire (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=29422), yet another story that has it's roots in a D&D campaign I played. Unlike the last one, the character in this has not and probably will not make an appearance in any of the game forums here. It's over a year older than Trollbane, and further towards being completed than it is. There'll be regular updates for awhile; I have several chapters done already and I'm resuming work on it.

As ever, I welcome comments and criticism.

2006-12-17, 09:13 AM
Something (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=1703799#post1703799) I wrote for English class, and was wondering what others thought of it.

2006-12-26, 01:43 AM

I have some stories there titled A Long Journey.
They're posted chapter by chapter so tot see chapter 1 you have to view my gallery.

Basically, I took a DnD campaign that I ran, and I wrote it down. I had to change some things to make it appropriate as a short story, but the dungeons, the traps, the monsters, the PCs are all the same. It's all there. Basically they're excorting a girl named Trisha across the land to rescue her brother from a wizard's tower.

So, if you like it's I'd like to know what you liked. Thank you.

Lord Magtok
2006-12-27, 12:31 AM
I've got something I'd like to display.
What if every political leader died in one massive assassination?
What if the world was ruled solely by the one called...Magtok?


2006-12-28, 09:29 AM
Markova's Lament (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=30565)

Not a short story, but not really anything else. Done when I was very tired.

2006-12-28, 11:59 AM
Here's a link to all my stories and what-not: http://www.fictionpress.com/u/531764/

Warning: Violence, language and crude humor lie ahead.

Glooble Glistencrist
2007-02-02, 02:12 PM
I have a blog, http://www.crazystalkerguy.blogspot.com where I am writing about three stories concurrently, updating twice a week. The tabs will allow to read any of them from the beginning. The untitled Dragon story is the longest, it's about modern day half-dragons. The story updating the most right now is called City of Mages, and it's a fantasy story kind of inspired by Dungeons and Dragons, but also very much with it's own rules. Please comment if you read it.

2007-02-12, 02:41 PM
The ongoing side-quest of Umolka, by Thayan Talontar in the Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting.

Questing (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=34689)

For more, if you're really bored, please look at the website in my signature! And please, PLEASE don't edit it.

2007-02-23, 03:35 AM
http://intotheaether.tripod.com - Some fantasy short stories, recently updated and added too!

2007-02-27, 06:54 PM
hi i am a writer, and don't really want to post, but (hope i picked the right thread) want to talk to other writers about writing and being a writer and stuff, if i picked the wrong thread, please let me know... peace!!


2007-03-07, 11:55 AM
Site here (http://tales.dragonstalon.co.uk/) and the first two chapters here (http://tales.dragonstalon.co.uk/tales/teaser.pdf) (PDF)

A warning now; these pages do include themes of violence and some implicit sexual violence.

Half of me whats to publish it properly and the other half wants to put it up online chapter by chapter (and there are many more chapters) like a webcomic and include a donations button...

Dude that was amazing, Do post another link when you have written more please!

2007-03-09, 05:21 AM
*Disclaimer: It's not my fault that the message board posting system doesn't believe in indendations.

Fresh off the presses to be turned into my Creative Writing class tomorrow (err, well, today), you can read one Chicago cop's take on turning into a vampire -

"Eric the Red"

Eric stood there, staring at the sink mirror, trying not to think about it. He turned on the faucet and splashed water in his face, flinching slightly at the initial sensation. What did a little discomfort matter to him? He didn’t deserve comfort. Not after what he’d done…again.
“Honey, are you almost done in there?” A voice called from the other room. “Supper’s ready.”
Sarah, Eric had almost forgotten about her. How could he forget about her? He had to protect her…from himself?
“Yeah, I’ll be there in just a sec ‘hon.” He called back. He looked again into the mirror, and blinked in surprise. Was his reflection not there?! Of course it was there, he was going crazy. He hadn’t done anything. It was just another disgusting dream, always a dream. He couldn’t believe the ravings of that old hag.
Eric came out of the bathroom, pulling himself from his reverie. There was his beautiful wife Sarah with a wonderful meal prepared for him. She looked concerned for him, always concerned for him. “Was it a rough day at work today?” she asked.
Eric realized how sternly he was looking at her, and forced himself to smile. “Oh, not at all,” he said, “just a lot of paperwork today,” he lied. He hadn’t even gone into work today. He didn’t get many sick days as a Police Officer, but he’d called in today. He had to find out what was happening to him…was anything happening to him?
A baby cried in the other room and Sarah sighed, “Oh well, that’s good then. Amanda’s awake, so just start without me,” and with that she went to go check on their baby.
Eric looked at the food in front of him. Rice…chicken…beans…all looked delicious, but why didn’t any of it appeal to him? That old woman wasn’t right, she couldn’t be!
Instead of going into work today, Eric had gone down to an obscure Asian district in the city, same as any other back alley Asian slum, back to where he’d lost a night when pursuing a perp on foot. He’d blacked out and couldn’t remember a thing, showing up at home the next morning. Turned out there was a wide-scale search for the guy he was after. No one had even noticed he was missing. But in that district when he’d gone back, an old, toothless Asian had screamed in fear at him…gave him some sort of sign against evil. He flashed his badge and talked her into calming down, but she claimed to have other reasons for doing so, said that the sun was her assurance.
Eric laughed at his own stupidity, an old, toothless Asian woman giving him a grave warning against evil? How many bad movies had he seen start like that? Still…the woman told him, told him he’d been having dreams. Told him he’d dreamt of killing…that he’d dreamt of feeding. He had, but he denied it. She said he’d been touched by death, and if he knew what was good for him he’d leave all those he loved and cared for behind before he became their undoing.
Eric shook his head. There was definitely something wrong with him, but not something as ridiculous as all that. He should’ve gone to see a doctor, a real doctor, maybe even a psychiatrist, about the dreams and desires he’d been having. There had to be an explanation for it. Stress, maybe. A Chicago City officer was not an easy job. The weather was bad, the people were worse. He lived in a nice suburb, but the district he worked in was another story.
Sarah came back into the room holding Amanda. Eric’s fears melted away at the sight of his little daughter. “Honey,” his wife said, “I told you not to wait for me.”
“It’s okay,” he said, “I didn’t mind.”

* * *

Such a precious little thing, a baby, it’s so full life, and so full of energy. They don’t have as much lifeblood as a fully grown being, but they taste so…fresh. Eric smiled as he picked the sleeping child up, licking his lips at the anticipation…
Eric bolted up in bed in a cold sweat. What was that supposed to be, a nightmare?! Crazy old woman and her stupid stories, he couldn’t get these ridiculous thoughts out of his head. Hurt his own family, like he’d ever do that! He looked at his sleeping wife, he’d never harm her. He loved her. He’d protect her, protect her unto death. He’d said so in his wedding vows. He meant those words when he said then and he meant them now. He’d never taken such vows for his daughter, but she was his own flesh and blood! Why was he even thinking about this? He couldn’t sleep anymore, he had to get out.
Eric got out of bed and threw on some clothes. Where would he go? Maybe just on a late night drive…going outside, though, his car just didn’t appeal to him. He didn’t want be trapped in a metal box. The night air was soothing; he’d go for a walk instead.
An hour, two, Eric didn’t know how much time had passed before he finally stopped and looked around. Trees? There wasn’t a light in sight. That was the funny thing about Chicago suburbs; Forest Preserves, undeveloped areas, fields, such rural looking places mingled in with the heavy industrialization. “You’ve finally come,” a smooth, silky voice nearly purred out behind him.
Eric spun around to see a tall, pale-skinned woman with long, jet black hair dressed in small, seductive looking dress. What was she doing wearing that out here? “Who are you?” was the first thing he could think to say.
Her face nearly lit up at his question, “Oh, you wouldn’t know that, would you?” She came almost un-comfortably close and slowly stroked the back of his head down to his back, “Poor baby wouldn’t remember.” She stopped and looked him right in the eye, “You can call me Serefine, Eric.”
“How do you know my name?” Eric demanded.
“Oh, I know many things,” she responded, “A name as old as yours should be easy to remember.” She smiled slyly, “I hope you like old things.”
Eric didn’t know why, but he was feeling a compelling attraction to this woman. Once she’d looked him in the eye, he couldn’t look away. Every curve, every motion, he was drinking in her sight. His heart was beating rapidly at his situation…or was it? It was beating strongly, but slowly. Eric broke himself away from her falling flat on his butt, “Get away from me. I have a wife, I have a family!”
Serefine frowned at him, “Oh, you’re not ready yet,” she stated dejectedly. “But soon,” she went on, her voice picking up fervor. “Come back to me tomorrow night,” she said as she herself drifted off into the shadows, “You’ll find me then again. You have to.”
Eric sat there breathing heavily for a few minutes, or maybe it was longer than a few minutes, he didn’t know. He looked about himself one more. He just wanted to go home.

* * *

Eric walked up to his front door, Finally, he thought, I’ve been walking for hours. He didn’t even know how he’d found his way back home. Instinct, he supposed. But he was here, and that was all that mattered. He glanced at the rising sun in the distance before going inside. It nearly gave him a headache; it seemed so bright this morning.
Going in and to his room he found his wife sleeping as he’d left her. She looked beautiful lying there, her honey-blonde hair splayed across the pillows. He decided not to tell her what’d happened, it didn’t mean anything. Eric sighed and fell down straight to sleep.

* * *

Eric woke with his wife feeling his forehead, “Honey, you feel so cold,” she said, “And you were gone when I fed Amanda last night. Did you have insomnia?”
Eric groggily looked up at her, “I think so. I don’t feel so good today, ‘hon. I think I’m going to stay home.”
She looked at him worriedly, “Well alright. I’ll call in for you. Amanda and I are going to see the Doctor today. I’ll see you when we come back for our nap.”
Eric nodded at her before falling back asleep.

* * *

His wife was there again when he woke up, “You didn’t tell me you called in sick yesterday too,” she said, “You must be really feeling out of it.”
Eric looked at the window, it was almost night time. “I just let you sleep today. I’ve got some chicken soup for you here. Cheesy, I know,” she said with a smile, “But it always worked when I was a kid.”
“Thanks, ‘hon,” Eric replied, and took the bowel from her. She set down a glass of water on the nightstand next to him and left him to eat. The soup tasted warm, it was delicious, but somehow not what he was craving. Eric rebuked himself, not those stupid thoughts again, that old woman…that young woman…had any of that even happened? He was feeling pretty out of it. He might’ve dreamt the whole thing. Eric shivered, he was pretty cold too. He’d definitely call the doctor tomorrow.

* * *

Eric gazed at Sarah’s long, elegant neck. She was sleeping again. He wasn’t. She smelled delicious. He ran his nose across her face, taking in her scent. He put his mouth on her neck, and bit. He was sucking in her wonderful lifeblood. Since when could he do that? He didn’t care, he was in Heaven.
Eric’s wife woke up, and barely garbled a scream. Eric’s eyes widened in shock and he jumped away from her, releasing her sensuous neck from his lips. What have I done? He thought, What am I doing?! He stopped himself again, as he noticed himself slowly creeping towards her. His baby cried in the other room, reminding him of the dream he’d had the night before. He wanted to continue it. Eric closed his eyes and fled, fled his house, fled his life, fled everything. This wasn’t Heaven, this was Hell.
When he opened his eyes again, he saw Serefine. “WHAT’S HAPPENING TO ME?!” he yelled at her.
“There, there, baby,” she said to him, rubbing his back again, “It’ll be alright. Has my child had his first kill, or does mommy need to find him some milk?”
Eric didn’t know why, but he trusted Serefine now, and she was comforting to him. His face collapsed in her shoulder and he cried, “I just want the sun to come up, and everything to be alright.”
“Oh no dear,” she replied, “We can’t have that. You’ll find the sun will hurt more than just your eyes now. It’ll hurt your skin, burn your face. We needn’t worry about such a nasty thing as the sun. But everything will be alright. You’ll have fun, with me.” She picked up his sobbing face and looked at him “Your lips are red,” She scolded, “How dare you not share with me, Eric.” She kissed him then, coldly, deeply, passionately, licking up all the remaining blood. “Come, I’ll show you where you can find some more.”

And since I'm posting, why not? The last short story I did for my class -

"Faking Life"

“No, I love you more,” said John, doughy eyed and puppy voiced holding his beloved Cassandra.
Kelly heaved a sigh of annoyance, they were at it again. She almost wished they hadn’t met, her two best friends in the world. Not that she had any sort of romantic interest in John herself, but there was only so much of this lovey-dovey nonsense one could take.
“Can we get a move on, guys?” asked Kelly, “I’d like to finish this today.”
Cassandra gave Kelly that distracted I’m responding to you but thinking about something else look that she hated, “Oh Kelly, don’t worry about it. We’ll get there when we get there.”
Kelly sighed again. They were supposed to be going to the court house, so these two love birds could get legally married. They were still going to have a wedding, they said, but the two just simply, “couldn’t wait that long to be married.” Kelly didn’t really care one way or the other. If you are going to do something, get it done as quickly and efficiently as possible. That’s what got her through college and law school and the job she had now, not dawdling about. These two annoyed her, but that’s what she loved about them. They were both, together, everything she wasn’t.
Cassandra and John gave each other one last kiss and grabbed their things, finally ready to head out the door. Together, they left the apartment Kelly and Cassandra shared, soon to return and make an apartment all three of them lived in. It would be close quarters, but they knew they could handle it. Despite herself, Kelly was a little bit excited. Sure, these too almost irked her out of existence sometimes, but she always knew they’d end up together, from the first time that she’d met them both.

It had been a chilly October morning. It got that way in Maine sometimes, and Kelly was thoroughly not enjoying it. She was a very punctual person, but the cold always slowed her down in the morning, especially when she was used to warmer weather. She couldn’t be late, though. She had a very important meeting with a client to be at.
Hopping into her Lexus she jammed on gas to pull out of her parallel parking space, looking her face and hair over again in the rearview mirror. That was her mistake, though. She shouldn’t have been so distracted. Pulling out of her space she heard a distinct ‘thump,’ and all the warmth seem to suck out of her face and heart right then. Oh my God, she thought, did I hit someone? Shocked, Kelly stumbled out of her car and found a woman standing there, perfectly fine, looking over her shopping cart full of food and…things. Kelly wasn’t sure what half the packed greenery was supposed to be, and the dreamy dark haired woman standing there looked like she’d come straight from the peak of hippie style in the 70s. The cart had left some scratches on Kelly’s car, but that was a relief after thinking she’d just run over somebody. “I’m so sorry,” she said to the owner of the groceries, “My name is Kelly Carlson. I’ll pay for all of this, I promise. I’m just so glad I didn’t hit you.” Kelly realized, she wouldn’t be making her meeting.

Cassandra was greatly amused with the sharply dressed lawyer woman who seemed obsessed with making up for knocking over her cart full of produce. “Is there anything else I can do?” She went on, “I shouldn’t have been so careless. I nearly killed you.”
Cassandra shook her head yet again, “No Kelly, I’m fine. These were just some things. They’re easily replaceable. Look,” she said, presenting herself with her arm for dramatic effect, “No harm done.”
Kelly had a stern look on her face anyway, however. “No, there must be something I can do. Do you have a place a stay? I mean, you look like…I mean, oh gosh, I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to say anything bad about the way you look.”
Cassandra gave a little laugh, “Oh, this? This is just something I found at the thrift store the other day. I like trying out different styles whenever the mood strikes me. This old look is fun. And anyway, I’m certain I’ll find somewhere.”
“You mean don’t have somewhere to stay?” went on Kelly.
“Well, not at the moment,” replied Cassandra.
Kelly gave a decided nod then, “Well then, that’s it. You can come up to my place. It’s right here. Stay as long as you need, I don’t mind.”
“You don’t have to,” said Cassandra.
“I do,” continued Kelly, “Though actually, I just realized I don’t even know your name…and where were you planning on taking all those fruits and vegetables?”
Cassandra paused for a moment, thinking that over, “I don’t know,” and remembering Kelly’s other question, went on, “My name’s Cassandra. You can call me Cassie.”

John was ecstatic to be free of that wench. Two years with the most uptight, demanding bitch queen known to man can do that to a guy. He had no idea why he’d stayed with her so long…Vanessa, bane of his happy existence on Earth. But it was over now, and he couldn’t be happier. The only problem left in his life was his job. His utterly unbearable job at what he considered the most evil law firm on Earth. But then again, he considered them all evil. He didn’t know why he’d become a lawyer. He liked philosophy in college, and it seemed to make sense at the time. From the moment he stepped into law school, he’d known it was a mistake, but it didn’t matter now. He was going to quit.
John had planned to tell Kelly, a co-worker, just that tonight when he met her for drinks. She was the only one he liked in that hellhole, and they’d been passing acquaintances during his entire stint there, though not friends per se. But he figured he might as well get to know the one other decent person there before he left for good. He wasn’t interested in trying any more relationships right now, it wasn’t like that. He just thought it’d be nice to get to know someone new.

Kelly was relaxing at a table at the ridiculously posh and expensive bar she’d agreed to meet John at when he walked in. She’d always enjoyed his company. She was glad, for now, for the opportunity to get to know someone new, even in an overly lavish place like this.
John saw her and came on over. “Hey,” he said, “got room for another?”
“Open chair’s yours,” she replied.
John sat down and a woman was there in an instant, asking if they’d like to order any drinks. They both ordered and boldly entered into the wild realm of acquaintance small talk. “So I hear you gave Smitherson a run for his money the other day when he tried to tell you how to run your own case.”
John chuckled, “That joke of a man? I don’t know. I don’t usually pay much attention to Smitherson’s little power games. After awhile you just start to think, why does anyone care who’s in control of what? It’s not like they’ll make much more on top of there obscenely large salaries in the first place, just gain more hectic, brutal responsibility.”
Kelly was taken aback by John’s abruptness, but couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re right, but I don’t think you can survive at that firm long if you don’t care at least a little.”
“I agree,” said John, “you probably can’t. I didn’t. Well, won’t.”
“What was that?” asked Kelly.
John chuckled, “I suppose it’s a little odd, finally getting to know you more the night before I quit. I’ve been planning it for awhile now. I’ve got no obligation to be at the firm any longer than I have been at the moment, and I hate it there. I’m leaving.”
“Leaving?” asked Kelly, surprised at the notion, “But how can you be leaving? What will you do? How will you live?”
John seemed to pause for a moment, considering the question, “I don’t really know,” he said. “I haven’t really thought it out. But why limit myself to just being a lawyer? I’ve done that for years now. It’s boring. I can’t believe I’ve done it for so long, there are so many things out there to do and try. I’m sure I’ll find something to do, hopefully here in the city.”
Kelly shook her head in amazement, “That must take a lot of courage. You remind of someone.”
“Oh?” said John, “someone extraordinary, I hope.”
Kelly smiled, “Somewhat. My roommate, I’ve been living with her a few months now. I…ran into her, so to speak, in front of my place one morning on my way to an appointment I found out I must’ve imagined in the first place. I spent the entire day with her then and we’ve been living together ever since. Maybe you’ll meet her some day.”
“Maybe,” John said.

So there they were, the three of them, approaching the Portland courthouse when the Semi Truck hit them. It was still hard for Kelly to think about that day, to think about the entire preceding year, even, because of what happened after. She woke up in a hospital bed, with hardly a scratch on her. The doctors told her it was a miracle, but she demanded to see her friends. She was bewildered when the hospital staff told her, “…there was no one else in the car.” Kelly didn’t believe it. Cassandra and John, they were there with her in the car, she knew it!
It was harder than she’d at first expected it to be to try and track them down. Everyone at the firm denied that anyone named John had ever even worked for them, and Kelly soon realized she knew next to nothing about Cassandra other than that she was a runaway who’d set out to make her own way in the world apart from her parents at an early age. At least, that’s what Kelly thought she was.
Panicked about the situation, Kelly took off from work and even hired a private investigator shortly after leaving the hospital to help her find her friends, but it didn’t take her long to discover the truth. In a sense, Kelly had always known it, but she didn’t want to believe it. Who would? The evidence, however, was undeniable. Her landlord, bartender at the place she, John, and Cassandra frequented, and all the other people she encountered at least weekly besides her old friends confirmed it. Their things were in her place, the private investigator found financial records saying she’d bought them. Cassandra’s favorite perfume was in her bedroom, Kelly found herself wearing it. The appointments Kelly always had whenever John and Cassandra were out on a date, Kelly almost cried when she realized she’d never gone to one of them. She’d never even had any of them to begin with. John and Cassandra never existed.
Kelly’s world came crashing down around her, sucked into a vortex that didn’t exist. Who could she talk to about this, her friends? How did this even happen? Where did their lives end and her life begin? Did she even have a life before this? She’d always wanted to be a lawyer, hadn’t she? She remembered going to law school, working hard to be the best…she remembered going to law school and hating every minute of it…she remembered running away from home determined to see and do everything her parents didn’t want her to. Who was she? Was she even real?
A month of this madness, and Kelly couldn’t take it anymore. She bought a gun. Maybe she’d find out how real she was.

p.s. Steal from me and I will hunt you down and murder anyone and everyone you have ever loved. Plagiarism is bad, yo. Have a nice day!

The Prince of Cats
2007-03-09, 06:41 AM
Dude that was amazing, Do post another link when you have written more please!

At the moment, I am releasing a new chapter on the first monday of each month. When I was on form, I was getting a chapter out every week, but I have real-world concerns holding me back. Chapter 8 is up, chapter 14 is written. That means that there will be at least another 6 months before I run out of chapters, assuming I get no more writing done.

I worked for a while on creating this setting for D&D 3.5 but re-writing the magic system proved a little more of a challenge that I had expected. I will never complain about D&D's magic system again...

The Extinguisher
2007-03-11, 01:11 AM
I will post something. There is some harsher language and violence. You have been warned.

Click here! (http://theradiogame.proboards51.com/index.cgi?board=non&action=display&thread=1172467470)

Eldritch Knight
2007-03-16, 04:13 PM
Long ago, none dared stand to face the grave threat posed to our lands. All who dared stand were cut down before our eyes. Hope fled from us, and the hearts of all people were crushed beneath the great yoke of fear and tyranny. But there were some who fled, only to gather strength for the storm that drew nearer and nearer. No one spoke that day, when our strongest and bravest left us to seek the great Master, who would show us our way to freedom. Years passed, our hope, long abandoned was left broken and shattered. Our seeker was returned to us. He was dead; He had been attacked and overcome by the blades of our tyrant’s army. We knew that he stood alone, and had been cut down as a weed. Our wrath grew stronger than what we could control. We had been under our tyrant for forty years, and never once was there any hope of peace. We had suffered long and hard under our tyrant, and we knew at once what we must do. Rather than face our lord and captor openly, we sought a shrouded way, a way long last. Our new way was one that should not have been unearthed, as we learned fast the error we had made. We faced a destroyer of our own hand, the created force of our own wronged hearts. Our tyrant laughed at our attempt, as we were scattered by our own power, our own force, and our own tool. We would be forever slaves to our tyrant, as our own power would never be enough to restore us to the freedom we sought. But, we found that slavery was not our true fate, as our seeker was not truly dead. He had found the great Master, and our beloved Master was truly none but the Master of All. Our seeker showed us the way we must walk to earn our much sought freedom for the tyranny of our land. Our freedom was not to be real upon the land, but real upon our hearts. We would bear our tyrant for many seasons to come, but we were told that our seeker would come back to us, a flame of hope and renewal. At that moment, our tyrant would fall, and our people would be freed forevermore. No longer would we suffer at the hands of a tyrant’s cruel servants. No longer would brothers be taken as slaves. No longer would our sons and daughters face the horror of murdered parents. No! Our people had learned to hope anew. Strange concept, our hope; where none can be found, death holds sway, but where hope has come to stay, peace stands tall. Our tyrant had taught us the value of hope, but we had long left hope abandoned and unfed, but when our seeker returned to us, we took hope anew, a bold flame to carry our blood above our foes. Our challenge was met by the blades of steel forged by the flames of hatred and jealousy. Our tyrant, to our shock, and our great fear, was none but ourselves.

^ A writing challenge to avoid using the letter I.

Death of the Immortal

What is this? Blood? My Blood? It's been so long I'd forgotten what it looked like. If I am bleeding, this must mean that the curse is lifted. I'm dying. At long, long last, I'm finally dying. I thought this day would never come, that I'd been condemned to life immortal. I did deserve it though, for I certainly was guilty of the greatest of crimes. I had absolute power! Civilization bowed before me! I was God! None dared oppose me, and as consequence my power continued to grow. I, the embodiment of evil, prepared to conquer heaven itself. Alas, my power failed me, on the edge of ultimate triumph. Woe to me, the fool who challenged the creator himself. I was put on trial, in his courst, the souls of all I'd slain surrounded me on either side, and in the centre of it all, a light, purer than any I'd ever seen streamed forth. I could not bear it, and it penetrated to my soul. Out of that light, a voice came, louder and clear than the greatest king.

"You stand charged with the ultimate crimes, You have slaughtered the innocent, oppressed the poor, cheated the orphen and the widow, and you have sought to seize MY throne. The blood you have spilled cries out to me for your death. However, I am not without mercy. Your sentence is that you shall be bound to life forever. You may be released from this curse when you have repayed your deby."

I knew in my heart that this was a debt that could never be repayed, and yet here I lie, my lifeblood spilled upon the ground, for what, a mere boy? Why after these thousands of years am I finally released? The Creator has kept his word to me, yet how? I have not repayed my debt, all I have done is saved the boy. What is so special about him?

The light comes! That terrifying voice speaks: "You have been released, Wanderer, for you have repayed your debt in full."

In full? How? All I did was give my life for anothers.

"Your debt is paid, not by your own acts, nor by your heart. Your debt is paid because the boy has taken it upon himself."

No! This cannot be! He is an innocent, spare him from my curse! Release him! I demand it!

"I cannot. His is a willing sacrifice, and I am bound by my will to honour that. He will live forevermore, never tasting the sting of death. The boy is my Son! You need no longer worry of his path. Your journey ends here. What was once the greatest of curses, has become my greatest blessing. "

I do not understand. How can my curse be a blessing?

"Life is a curse to the dead, as death is a curse to the living. You have long been dead, only sustained by my will. Now, Seeker, my servant, it is for blood you have been cursed, and it is by blood you have been redeemed. Be Released!"

Poems of the Hero

The Extinguisher
2007-03-16, 11:47 PM
You used a couple I's in there Eldritch

Eldritch Knight
2007-03-17, 01:48 PM
You used a couple I's in there Eldritch

Only three. Fixed now.

2007-03-25, 01:51 PM
This is the first 45 lines of a story written in my language. I have provided translations.
LO! (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=2258495#post2258495)

2007-04-07, 07:07 AM
Hi, I'm pretty new to writing fantasy stuff and this is the start of my third try (I'm not sure if the spoilers will work or not, it's isn't it, so I'll just post the first bit: Hearing the roar of the monster, as if there were a thousand lions behind him, Samuel ran. With a terrifying howl, the monster burst from the seam, its mere presence engulfing the nearby trees in black flame. Suddenly, a blazing wall of fire materialized in front of him. Frozen by fear, Samuel stopped running, and turned to face the horror that was chasing him. As he laid eyes upon the terror, and was reduced to nothing but a pile of ash, one word fell from his mouth "Demon".
Feedback is welcome :smallsmile:

The Prince of Cats
2007-04-07, 06:47 PM
Well, I have my ninth chapter up online. Not sure it is any good any more, but I have it up for perusal.

check my signature...

2007-04-08, 07:23 PM
Ok this is the seond part of my story:
Jack awoke in bed, sweating like a fountain. It was the third time that week he had had that dream. The word still lingered in the air, as if it was mocking him. “Demon, Demon, Demon!” It whispered. Rising from his bed, he walked to the window to see a red sky, even though it was long past sunset. Returning to his bed, he sank fitfully back into sleep. Somewhere else, a battle raged.

Elma blocked the blow of the Behemoth, as she heard two others fall on either side of her, plunging her moon-blade deep into it’s chest, she flipped over it, pulling her blade out the other side. The Behemoth toppled, landing on top of her, but she passed right through it. Suddenly two Skysingers dropped from the heavens, screeching and diving through she and her comrades, and crashing to the ground. Her fellow War Students, Alex and John, leapt towards them, crushing them with their greathammers. Appearing as if from nowhere a small, rather cute rabbit hopped up to her. She glanced at her comrades, and, finding them busy, started circling round the rabbit. It looked exactly like a normal, white bunny rabbit, except it had horns where its ears should’ve been. Unexpectedly the rabbit’s fur started to change colour. It changed from white, to grey to a deep, blood-red. The rabbit then changed forms into a small gremlin, which grew fangs, trying to sink them into her flesh. Brandishing her longsword, she batted the Gremlin aside. Noticing Alex had finished off the Skysinger, she beckoned him, while trying to keep them Gremlin’s focus on her. Alex stabbed forward, obliterating the Gremlin, as Elma relaxed. “Nice” she said “But I get the kill” Hearing a thunderous noise from over the hill, and fuelled by anger Alex tensed “What?!” yelled Alex “But I was the one who killed him!” The noise grew louder as Elma replied “Ah, but I was the one who distracted hi-!” Suddenly, a huge sharp, pointy leg, sundered the earth between them, as they saw what had made the noise. A huge spider-like monster, with long fangs and a face like a screaming baby, stormed over the hill, plunging a second leg through John whose shape fizzled and disappeared. Angered but scared Elma ran, as Alex turned to fight. Alex, cutting off two of its legs, flipped onto its head, and plunged the spear-handle of his hammer into its giant eyes. Abruptly, the two de-attached legs writhed and turned into snakes, which hurtled towards Elma. Grabbing one of them, she bashed the second with it, and her longsword, cutting off the head of the first snake with when she finished. With new strength she sprinted back towards the horror, only to find it stabbing its remaining two legs into Alex. “Alex….. Nooooo!” she yelled as she threw herself at the monster. Leaping at it with all her might, she was frozen I mid-air, by the voice of her coach emanating from the monster. “Youuuuuuuuuuuuuu Looooooooooseeeeeeeee!” he yelled at her, as she de-materialized, and was sent back to the classroom.

Sitting up, Elma removed her Training Visor. “Why’d you remove me from the simulation?” “That’s the rules!” barked the coach “No back-up, no training” “But I could ha-““THE RULES!” Grunted the coach furiously. Elma. Alex and John retired to their rooms, with Elma fuming. Feedback very welcome!

2007-04-09, 07:05 AM
Just to shamelessly pimp myself because time was working against me in the Iron Author contests, I have put both entries up on my site and would love any kind of critiques regarding them!

Link's in the sig.

Cheers all!


2007-04-11, 09:08 AM
I might as well link to this in the knowledge that no one here will actually read it :smallwink:

Right now my only writing is Les Journals d'Artois (http://forum.paradoxplaza.com/forum/showthread.php?t=287512) - an AAR (After Action Report) based around the game Crusader Kings. It reads as a narrative/diary account of political maneuvering in France during the Hundred Years War. I post here as no knowledge of the game or history is actually necessary to follow the travails of our hero Jacques d'Artois as he endures miserable exile in Brittany.

Dancing Nomad
2007-04-14, 01:49 AM
A poem I wrote:

Roll of Thunder
Roll of thunder.
Hear my cry.
Come to me.
I touch the sky.
Fire turns the sea to salt
When he makes her boil.
Farmer turns the seed to life
With all his work and toil.
Wolves howl loudly,
Fierce into the night
Eagle’s screams pierce my heart
When he starts his flight.
Hoof beats pound from
Canyons into the hills.
Though the people left there long ago
The walls remember still.
Storms they brew in darkness
On thunderbird’s cries,
Summoned into tempest flight
Across unguarded skies.

2007-04-14, 05:20 PM

The start of a story by me, might be finished someday (If people like it enough)

2007-04-16, 06:16 PM
Several of my short stories are posted Here (http://angelhaze.deviantart.com/) and I always welcome comments. Mostly fantasy, but I'm branching out to sci-fi as well.

2007-04-17, 06:23 PM
Shattered (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=41200). This is the prologue to a longer piece I'm working on. I submitted it to a writing contest at school and found out yesterday that I'm a finalist (:smallsmile:), but haven't heard any feedback on it. Critiques would be much appreciated. I'll probably post any future parts on the web somewhere else to avoid the language filter. Warning: Violence and language, PG-13 at least.

Xero Kunai
2007-04-20, 03:29 PM

Here is something I have written as well, I don't have a title yet and so far have about three chapters out and am working on the forth. It may not be very well but I thought I would see how I rank either way. Comments would be appreciated.

2007-05-08, 12:33 PM
Poetry of a confused wind, the vapid ramblings of madmen...

One night a-wandering they went,
graceful Rose and he,
from hither to yon their footsteps they went,
from lost to found and here to gone,
they wayward feet they lent.

Over fallen leaves they lightly stepped,
ranging far and laughing under boughs of green,
over roots and ferns they flew and lept,
where nothing stirred nor spake,
for beast and man both slept.

Dew-speckled they laughed and raced,
through the quiet, shadowed wood,
by red curls her face embraced,
Rose laughed longer than the boy,
whose features his quiet smile graced.

On running Rose had gone,
into woods dark and lonely,
until to a shallow grave she came with no name upon,
where she would sleep,
until again the moon had com and gone.

He turned and drifted from the wood,
until to the lichyard he had wandered,
where over mark-ed grave he stood,
and read the stone and wept,
for it was mark-ed, but held naught but stone and wood.

2007-05-10, 12:19 PM
Question, how are you suppost to post you stuff if you DON'T have a web link to it?


O dragon where did you get
those teeth so sharp.
And that tail so swift.
Where did you get thy
Armor so great and shining.

O admirer come closer so I may tell you.
My teeth are swords.
My tail is a spear.
And my armor will resist all mighty in
sorcery or steel.

O dragon your voice so charming.
Your wings so great and strong.
And Claws as mighty as an iron maul.
The Fire inside you waiting to strike.
O dragon tell me thy answers to all.

O admirer kind is thy tongue to me, how can I resist.
My voice it is a song bird withered in deceit.
My claw rips mountains and trees with ease.
My wings are light so I may fly unseen by all eyes in the deadly night.
And my breath is death.
O admirer I have told you my answers to your question
leave now in knowledge and do not return.

O dragon one more question for you:
do you not have a hoard of gold?
O mighty dragon answer this question for me

O treasure thief I tell you not and you shall never know.
foolish too it was to ask that, now I must smite you down.
O admirer, O treasure thief come closer to me.
Come to your death O admirer, O treasure thief
Doom is upon you, O admirer, O treasure thief.

2007-05-10, 06:48 PM

Adventuring for Dummies, a D&D Comedy Adventure based on some ideas for characters and things that are a little to embarrassing for me to use in a real game. It's a decent showcase of my writing style (though I'm a lot more careless writing it than other works, simply because I'm enjoying it more – think of it as my extended guitar solo) and in my opinion the most fun thing to read I've ever written. Hope you enjoy!

2007-05-14, 12:26 PM

Adventuring for Dummies, a D&D Comedy Adventure based on some ideas for characters and things that are a little to embarrassing for me to use in a real game. It's a decent showcase of my writing style (though I'm a lot more careless writing it than other works, simply because I'm enjoying it more – think of it as my extended guitar solo) and in my opinion the most fun thing to read I've ever written. Hope you enjoy!

LOL! hehehehehe...

2007-05-15, 09:06 AM
I hope that means you enjoyed :smallsmile:

2007-05-19, 08:29 PM

Warning: Some mature language.

2007-06-10, 04:49 PM
Warning!! Cliffhanger! The castle, usually so vibrant and full of life, was dark and silent in the light of early dawn. The only sound in the cold stone halls was a steady dripping, echoing like a thunderclap through the silent air. Allow, for a moment, your perspective to fly to the Great Hall, a giant room in which the entire history of the Harjani Empire was laid out in beautiful tapestries that covered the walls. But as the amber sun rose it revealed the tapestries to have acquired a small addition over the long night. Blood, ruby red in the sun of early morning, saturated the entire room, marring the beautiful history of a proud people with their own lifeblood. The bodies, stripped of all useful materials, had been chopped up and stored for whatever vile purposes their enemies had decided upon.

Their opponents themselves also merit closer observation, for they are too tall to be elves, too graceful to be human, and had the strength of many dwarves. They were expert swordsmen, as the carnage around them proved, but several of the bodies were not mutilated with the sword. They were crushed to almost nothing, blasted across the decorated walls, or just lying on the ground with giant holes where their brains had been ripped out of their heads. These bodies were untouched by the processing that their comrades had undergone. Indeed they were treated with respect, as their souls would be painfully purged in the Abyss before they were to be sent to their final resting-place. For they had been touched with and killed by a force long thought dead on the continent of Ansalon, Death Magic. Only the most dark, deadly, and evil sorcerers ever even considered being a death mage, and even fewer were anywhere near capable of joining the ranks of that most vile vocation.

But the victorious warriors were not men, nor elves, nor dwarves, and certainly not halflings or kender. Nor were they satyrs, centaurs, dryads, or a plethora of other beings and beasts over all the continents. These creatures were spoken of in legends that had, up until now, been created to scare children into submission. These were shades, the most evil of all creatures ever to walk the face of Ansalon. Now listen for one of them, the leader by the way the rest looked at him, spoke. “Report, commander, and make it quick,” he said to another of his kind, an officer who had just finished processing the last of the Harjani soldiers. “Sir,” the commander responded, “the magi have cornered the remains of the Harjani Army in the Throne Room with their king. They have requested permission to blow the door and eliminate all inside.”
“Tell them they may do as they wish with the soldiers, but do not harm the monarch. We will need him broken, but alive for information. We will conquer one of the strongest countries in a night… if the rest of this pathetic world is this easy, they should be glad when we conquer them all. Now go tell the mages to blow that door all the way to the Abyss!”
“Sir.” The commander saluted and walked out of the room.

Shuriken the mage-wright was having a bad day. The country that he had pledged his life to defend was collapsing around his pointy, half-elven ears. He had used the last of his power to bind the door and felt like Atlas when the sky quit Atkins. This was probably because he had so little power. All mage-wrights usually did was enchant fishing boats and put wards on locks, not seal a door so that not even the most determined elephant could not break through. Sighing he began to meditate, to draw power from the air around him into himself. The King was sitting on his throne, and polishing the gleaming silver blade that was his birthright. Its true name is in Draconic, the language of the dragons, and unpronounceable but most commoners called it by its translation, Excalibur. Shuriken stood, slightly refreshed, and readied his own weapon. Shift-blades were looked down upon in Harjanu, probably due to their tendency to be used in the hands of mages, who were also looked down upon because of their ‘cowardly’ techniques. Shift-blades were weapons bonded to their wielders, an extension of their will. Shuriken concentrated, forcing the liquid power into the shape of a long sword. With a flick of the wrist it became a spear, another twitch and he held an axe. Shuriken retracted the weapon back into his hand and began to check the seal on the door.

Haram the Shadow-Sorcerer was having a good day. He had just received word that he was allowed to destroy the pitiful ward on this door and kill all inside, except for the moronic monarch who had lost his entire realm over the course of a single night. He began to chant a soft monologue that slowly began to rise to a crescendo. “Shark kull hast toeth. Shark kull hast toeth. Shark kull hast toeth! ” The door shivered, warped, and then just… wasn’t. Haram laughed and stepped inside, a ball of flame emerging from his hand at the knight who was sleeping guard at the door. The knight exploded, causing the sorcerer to raise a shield to protect himself from the resulting shrapnel. The Harjani ruler started at the sudden intrusion but quickly recovered. He raised a glowing weapon in one hand and used the other to hurl a lightning bolt from a ring on his finger. Haram easily warded the feeble spell but was amazed at the presence of the gleaming blade. It was a celestial blade, fashioned in the forges of the Archons, enforcers of justice. It was a blessed weapon and held a terrible bane for dark things like the shades. Haram weighed his options, most of them ending in sacred doom. He turned and began to run when he suddenly felt a flux in the threads of power. He threw out his senses and cursed his carelessness. A mage! With a word he raised his shield but to no avail. A great fist slammed into his stomach throwing him into the darkness of oblivion.

Shuriken stood over his fallen adversary, raised his weapon to smite him and…

The beginings of my next masterpeice... Prologue: A warning

Through these writings of mine I hope to provide some clarity to the events of that most fateful time in our glorious history, the Twilight Wars. This is not a glamorous story by any means. If you come looking for a tale of glorious heros who do the right things for the right reasons all the time, a story where light is good and dark is bad, everything is hot or cold and arranged like the ends of a magnet with no middle ground, then you shall not find it here. In these recollections of mine you will find that sometimes darkness is simply a way to shield your eyes from the light . . .

Glamdring Soul-Usher

Chapter 1: Food Chain

If you remember, there are two kinds of sentient beings, those of shadow( dark elves, gnomes, and dwarves, to name a few) and those of light(High and Sun elves, as well as some races of [lesser] angel). It is very easy to associate these values with Good and Evil; however I would warn against it, as that would be in direct contradiction to the evidence. There was a war long ago, before humanity set foot on Torreon. It was called the War of Blazes, and for a very good reason. The technical beginning was with a few skirmishes between the High and Dark elves within the Auroch, a desert considered something of a no-mans land by both nations, casualties were kept to a minimum and very few died. Suddenly the two sides remembered the reason for their long continued bickering. The Dark elves were formerly slaves to the High Elves before they staged a revolt and fled to Dwarven caverns. Things escalated quickly and by year’s end the fighting was escalated to catastrophic proportions with hundreds dying each day. Finally, a mutual ally, the angels, stepped in and demanded a truce be signed before the other races became involved. The High Elves, or Aerín, agreed and sent a group of representatives to Dol-soch, a Dark Elf (Drow) city near the Aerin border. The treatise was supposedly being watched by the angels; however an especially charismatic Blaze (a mage that deals exclusively with fire magic) convinced the angelic contingent to allow a Sun Elf squadron to take their place(Blazes’ are almost exclusively Sun Elves, or Shanhedrein, due to their affinity to heat) Unfortunately the Aerín were not content with a compromise to a “lesser” race. They conspired with the Shanhedrein and a plot was hatched. Everything went according to the angel’s plan until the Aerin emperor went to sign the deceleration of peace. At his signal the platoon of Blazes inside the walls set the town ablaze. The flaunted magic shield that prevented the enemy from penetrating their ramparts during the war was bottling the heat, effectively cooking the population of Dol-soch. Those who escaped were slaughtered by an Aerin army that had been waiting nearby. The massacre of Dol-soch took the war to a genocidal level fo both sides. The angels stepped in again, this time more forcefully. The next nation to facilitate hostilities would be systematically obliterated. Both nations were allowed to keep armies of 800,000 soldiers to defend their borders.

PM me w/ feed back!

2007-07-09, 02:03 AM
Hey, just so people know, since it was such a resounding success here a couple of months back (read: two people even read it), I've posted my book-in-progress Shattered (http://www.fictionpress.com/secure/live_preview.php?storyid=2351349&chapter=1)
up at FictionPress. If anyone would like to critique it for me, I'd appreciate it. I'm only up to Chapter 2 and the Prologue, but the Prologue especially is quite long. There's more written, what's there is just what I happen to have already typed up.

2007-07-11, 12:16 PM
Hmm. Mess around with the inevitable formatting loss for the entire story, or just provide a single URL (http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2384409/1/) that solves all my problems? You decide.

As for a synopsis? Sure, but I need to provide you with three. One for the story itself, one for the world, and one for how it all came to be (Egotism, yo)

How It Began:

The original desire to write something like Estra and the beginnings of the ideas that formed the world within it formed in my mind several years ago, after a friend of mine stated on a forum several things he was especially sick of in fictional stories. I read his post, churned out a short story based on what came to mind later that evening (Specifically, a story where I tried to avoid or do the opposite of the cliches he had mentioned), uploaded it to FictionPress and promptly forgot all about it.

A few weeks later, perhaps a couple of months later, in fact, and I found myself bored with fanfiction. I just couldn't bring myself to try and write characters who weren't mine anymore, and so I looked around my mind for something to write about. A little voice chirped up, reminding me of that thing I had bunged on FP, and I went back to have a look at it.

It was absolute rubbish, but I must have thought that there was something salvageable about it, because I went back to basics, redesigned the whole thing, and came out with the idea of writing a prequel of sorts, that would last up until the point where that short would kick in, then hopefully I would have more of an idea of what to do with it. Time passed, and by the time I got back to where I had been before, the entire thing had changed.

Characters were different, concepts were different, locations were different. In the end, I kept planning and planning, writing and writing. Currently, I have written one-tenth of what I had planned up until about a week or two ago, when I suddenly had ideas that would expand the entire thing rampantly, and take it in directions that, previously, I would have dismissed as madness. The specifics are in the World Synopsis.

World Synopsis:

What I currently have written is the foundations of the world from which I can expand, and this first 'book' (I use the term loosely) seems more quasi-science/history lesson than story. A lot of the 'rules' that govern the world are laid down in it, and mentions are made of some of the political and armed forces that could shape and remake my world in their own image. Starting from this building block of a first book, I shall continue to add characters, locations, situations, plots, history and the occasional science lesson as time goes by. The world itself is currently undergoing a lot of evolution in my mind and on my notes, as I am experimenting with drastic changes in a lot of things, most specifically a shift in the dominant force from magic to technology.

Story Synopsis:

The First Book: As stated previously, the first book is more a foundation than anything else. It serves as an introduction to several key characters, mentions several others, visits important locations and gives the reader a lot of information about certain concepts, as well as a good deal of history about certain events and other things. It is primarily a fantasy story, and it does contain Orcs, Troglodytes and a casual mention of Gnomes and Dwarves.

However, it is also an attempt on my part to showcase protagonists who are caught up in events that they do not understand, have little or no ability to influence, and who are just trying to stay alive from day to day. I have also attempted to insert a little humour (But hopefully nothing forced), since a completely serious life is a boring life.

ALSO, it is an attempt to change what magic would be like and how it would be received, were it not so much a mysterious force that saves the day and that is never bound by any laws, rules or need for explanation, as perhaps a more mundane and approachable thing, explained and quantified by our (As humans, it would seem) need to understand everything and use logic and rational thinking when dealing with the unknown.

The Eleventh Book: Yes, you read that right. Although I have the basic plot and whatnot for books two through to ten written down, typed up and also present in my mind, I chose to skip ahead to book eleven. This is partially because I was having a slight headache with a certain issue near the start of book two, and partially because I wanted to try something different. And so, I chose to set this book in the future. Far in the future, in fact. How far? I haven't quite decided yet. All that I have worked out for this book so far is that magic is no longer the dominant force on the planet, and has been fading away slowly after some important events near the end of the tenth book (Trust me, it should make more sense than what you must be thinking, reading this).

With magic no longer the dominant force (Akin to our electricity), a desperate need for a replacement arose, and technology quickly became hailed as a possible saviour. Necessity comes before invention, after all. While I do not have a specific time period for when the story is set in my world, I do know that technology has become an incredible thing, evolving to replace magic in all ways possible. While magic in the primary series of books was possible for quite a lot of the populace (But not all, for reasons that I think I explained in the middle of the first book), technology could be used by all. All they needed to do was learn how to use it.

I am looking forward to reading some of the other submissions when I can spare more time later on tonight, as well.

2007-07-11, 03:41 PM
The Traveller is the first part of a short story I have been working on to try and improve my skills, all starring the little guy featured in my Avatar.

I like to think I'm my own worst critic, so go ahead and prove me wrong! :smalltongue:

Bear in mind that this story isn't really going anywhere at the moment - not even I know what happens next - so comments directed at my writing and pacing would be appreciated, as I'll freely admit the actual plot is a bit thin on the ground.

I've created a thread for any comments to go here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=2875515#post2875515)

EDIT: New link: The Traveller (PDF) (http://www.mediafire.com/?c3i4njkcma1)

2007-07-11, 04:14 PM
what is the criteria for the stories? Do they have to be specifically fantasy?

2007-07-11, 05:44 PM
what is the criteria for the stories? Do they have to be specifically fantasy?

No, I don't think so. It just happens to be the genre that a lot of people here are into. :smallsmile:

2007-07-15, 02:53 AM
Both might contain extremely mild language, aside from that? Just ideas.

I wrote this about a year ago. A few people seemed to like it. I wrote it in about three feverish hours of inspiration.

How the Devil Lost his Job
The nighttime air held a stillness to it; the wind did not blow and the sky was clear. The putrid stench of urban decay hung to this little corner of West Brook, Pennsylvania; it crept out of the pores of the city and clung to any who came within this little corner of hell. Roddy had long since grown used to the smell, for it pervaded his being and corrupted his essence, and decayed him from the inside. He ambled across the street carefully weaving out of the way of filthy puddles of what he hoped contained water, though this was not a guarantee in West Brook Pennsylvania.
Wearily he looked about the shabby, rundown buildings looking for a potential destination of his wanderings, and like a moth to flame he followed the burning, flashing neon glow of a partially lit sign. Only three letters out of the much larger name held a steady illumination, a D, an I, and a S. Through the dirty window a soft yellow glow poured out into the street; a flashing sign sat in the window, reading, “bar”. Roddy, looked at the ground and pushed in the creaking door of the establishment and slowly stepped inside. The smell of stale beer and vomit assaulted his senses.
There were several booths filled with patrons, none of which looked up to acknowledge his presence so enthralled as they were by drinks; they all seemed to be thinking of the good old days of bygone years, drowning their self pity and misery. Roddy felt that he was in good company in such a place, for he had his own demons to drown. He scanned the rest of the bar; filth covered everything. Roddy mused that this place might have been hospitable earlier in its life, but the tables now were blackened with age. They were obviously quite luxurious at one time; some of them had visible detailed carvings and the hardwood chairs held brass studs on the sides. An ornate mirror stood behind the bar; it was remarkably clear of the filth that pervaded the rested of the room.
Roddy looked in the mirror, trying to imagine himself without the worn, faded trench coat and stained white drab shirt and jeans. His shoes were riddled with holes, and his face had a forlorn quality, craggy skin and dead eyes. In the past his hair had been red though at this time it looked more gray and greasy. He tried to imagine himself with a suit and tie along with a full head of red hair; this vision flashed before his eyes and faded back to his own dismal reality.
He sighed wistfully and carefully stepped forward eyes fixed on the hardwood floor, careful to watch for the dangers that lurked in a place such as this, passed out drunks, puddles, or rats. The bar was empty, and Roddy took a seat on a cushioned stool; a spring pressed into his posterior and stuffing fell off onto the floor. The grizzled man behind the counter was tall and wide sporting a bald head, a perpetual scowl, and a gut hanging out of his shirt. He was wiping a dirty glass with a dirty towel and Roddy mused which of the two items was actually getting dirtier.
“Whiskey,” Roddy said, speaking in the rough growl of an old smoker and old drinker. The barman dropped a glass filled with whiskey on the counter and went back to wiping his dirty glass with his dirty rag. Roddy took his place among his fellows staring into their glasses, becoming lost in memories.
Behind him he heard the creaking door open and close followed by heavy footfalls on the hardwood. The stranger’s steps got closer and Roddy glanced behind himself. The newcomer was an ancient and decrepit man; he had on a dark red shirt and a pair of patched muddy jeans. His face was of incalculable age, barely any wisps of hair clung to his head, his nose was bulbous and red like the nose of a long time drunk, and his black eyes were yellow and bloodshot. The old man took a seat next to Roddy and without prompt the bartender dropped a glass of gin front of him.
Many minutes passed as both men sat silently, staring at their respective glasses. The old man then spoke in a soft, quiet voice, “Kid, buy me a drink, and I’ll tell you a secret.”
Roddy looked at him for a moment, the old man continued to stare at his drink without acknowledging the stare, Roddy shrugged and motioned, “Give him another of what he’s having,” his curiosity piqued. The barman dropped another gin in front of the stranger with a grunt. The old man continued to stare at his new glass and said quietly, “The secret is that I get free drinks.”
Roddy gaped at the man and squinted, “So you’re just telling me that I got you a drink when you can just as easily get yourself a free one, that’s no goddamned secret.”
The old man cackled, “Well who the hell else knows it?”
“The bartender for one, and I’ll bet you screw plenty of people out of drinks with that gag,” Roddy replied.
“Oh, right, well, how about I tell you another?” The old man said with a fiendish grin.
Roddy shrugged and the old man continued in a whisper, “I’m the most hated person of all time.”
Roddy snapped, “No you’re a crazy fool, that’s what you are, and I can see why.”
The old man cackled merrily, “Alright son no need to get hostile, I’ll get you a free drink if you tell me about yourself. How about it?”
Roddy snorted, “Fine, whatever, you old fool, but there’s not much to tell.”
The stranger waved at the bartender who was eavesdropping and had already started pouring the glass. Then he turned back to Roddy and grinned a full toothy grin, “So what’s your story, boy?”
Roddy glared and began, “Name’s Rod Collins, but everyone’s always called me Roddy, hell if I know why, I used to run Empire Steel before it went under because some ******** could do it for cheaper, and I’ll admit they did a better job. I lost everything else to the wife who divorced me three years ago, and my kids hate me. I’ve been living on whiskey and cups of dehydrated noodles for two years now. Happy idiot?”
The old man mused, “Just so you know, I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
Roddy glared, “Good thing too, ‘cause I’d beat you to hell if you did.”
The old man gave another cackle and smiled, “Tell you what kid, if you start buying me the drinks I’ll tell you whatever you want to know about me.”
Roddy thought, “What the hell.”
“What the hell,” he said waving the barman, who was already in motion, to pour more drinks for the old man.
Staring right at Roddy the stranger began, “Name’s Luc’a’Fere, no it’s not French, I also lost my job recently to a group who did it for less and did better work.”
The old man stopped and drained his glass, “Well, why do you get free drinks then?” Roddy asked.
“Eh? Ah, well I used to own this place; I kept better care of it mind you, but I had to sell it when I lost my job; I sold it for free drinks.”
“Well, what did you do for work when you lost your job?” Roddy enquired, interested in the crazy old man.
“I did quite a few things actually,” Luc’a’Fere replied.
Roddy ordered more drinks, “How old are you Mr. Luc’a’Fere?”
Luc thought for a moment, spinning his grubby hand around the edge of the glass from which he drank, “I have no idea son, older than dirt, of that I’m sure.”
Roddy persisted, “You said you’re the most hated person in history, why’s that? From what I’ve seen you’re just an annoying old fool. What’d you do? Kill Kennedy?”
Luc’a’Fere snorted indignantly, “I had nothing to do with that fiasco I assure you. I spent a good twenty years prepping that Kennedy boy, having him assassinated by old LB put a considerable dent in my plans. Ironically enough, Vietnam was worse than what I had in mind.”
Roddy ordered another round of drinks for the crazy old man, “I don’t suppose you can prove any of this, can you?
“Thought so.”
“I told you I lost my job, or else I would be happy to show you young man,” Luc explained,” But you’ll just have to take my word for it, I got nothing to prove like I used to. I’m washed up, out, done. Now, back in the day, I’d cover you in sores to prove my point. Job, now he was a good sport about it, nowadays all people do is whine and cry, then get a vaccination when they get smallpox.”
Roddy gaped at him, slowly asking, “You tellin’ me that you’re-”
The old man smirked and finished the question, “The Devil?, Satan?, Lucifer?, Prince of Lies? , Raging Lion?, The Beast?, Prince of Darkness?, Lord of this World?, Beelzebub?, The Lord of Flies?, Abandon?, The One They Call the Dragon?, Adversary?, The Serpent?, Morning Star?, The Lord of Light?, Spawn of Darkness?, Angel of Light?” He laughed, “Now I’m just Luc’a’Fere, most of those are titles that I no longer have, but yes, I am or was The Devil. Now, I’m sure I know what you’re thinking, where are the hooves? Where are the cape and the pitchfork, and do I have horns? You know what? I haven’t chewed on Cassius, Brutus, or Judas either; you humans get some queer ideas about me.”
“Bull,” Roddy stated, ordering the old man another round nonetheless.
“The truth you want? All I have now is a reputation for causing all the world’s problems.”
Roddy grinned, “So why’d you lose your job then?”
The devil looked at him, and began to rant, “Humans! Humans don’t need me anymore; you know I’m not responsible for hardly anything anymore? Most of your problems are caused by each other, and I have nothing to do with them! Why do you need a devil, when you have humans going around committing genocide without my influence?”
“So Hitler,” Roddy began, “and what he did, you didn’t influence that?”
Satan snorted, “Me? Bah, I could have gotten in on that early on, but I decided not to waste my time. I honestly didn’t think anyone would buy that racial purity crap.”
“What about The Black Plague then, was that you??”
“Guilty” Satan Admitted
“The Depression?”
“You kidding? This place was doing great in the twenties, almost had to shut it down when the stock market crashed.”
“Witch Trials?”
“Just the first occasion, then the humans took over it from there.”
“World War Two?”
“No, but the first one was me.”
“The Spanish Inquisition?”
“You kidding? I was taking notes from that, learned quite a bit. Those crazy bastards were pros.”
“The Bush Administration?”
The Devil paused and grew a slight shade of pink, “Well, about that, you see. I rigged the first election.”
“I knew it!” Roddy exclaimed, “For Bush?”
“Well no, that’s the thing, I rigged it for Gore. Yet somehow Bush won, poetic irony for you, eh? That’s the one that did me in. It was supposed to be my big come back. After Rock and Roll-”
Roddy interjected, “So Rock really was of the devil?”
“Originally yes it was, but my holdings were bought out by conglomerates that made even fouler music than I could.”
They both grew silent. Roddy ordered another round for Satan. Then Roddy furrowed his brows and turned to the devil, “You’re not after my soul are you?”
The devil laughed heartily, “No Monsieur Bon Bon I am not going to pull a Faust and take your soul, not that it’s a bad soul mind you, well it is, but that’s beside the point. I’m out of the soul trade.”
Roddy sighed, “So what will you do now?”
The devil sighed as well, “I don’t know, I guess I really am just outdated. Who needs the Prince of Darkness to cause mayhem when humans are so much more original about making each other’s lives hell? Who needs Lucifer when you have the atom bomb, who needs the Prince of Lies when you are all merrily killing off your environment? I just got too old for the job; you hear the crap that passes for music today? I thought swing was devilish enough, but no, you humans have to out do me every time.”
“Sa-,” Roddy began slowly, “If you lost your job, where’s hell?”
The devil smirked sadly, “Look around you we’re in hell right now, those behind you? They’re the damned. Who needs a separate hell when you all have made yourselves a perfectly fine one up here?”
The devil sighed wistfully, “Well, it’s been nice talking to you son, thanks for the drinks; I better get going.” Luc’a’Fere got up to leave and began to walk out the of the bar.
Roddy turned to him and shouted at his back, “Wait! What about God?”
Luc kept his back to Roddy and replied, “What about him?”
“Does he exist, will he save us?”
The devil turned his head to Roddy and flashed a fiendish grin.
“God is dead son, you think he still wants anything to do with this place? He’s not too long for this world either anymore.” The devil gave a cold chuckle, “My advice? You all have to make the best of your situation without looking to Him.” The devil stamps his foot on the ground, “This is real. This is your own responsibility. Make the best of it.”
With that Satan walked out of the bar named Dis, leaving behind the souls of the damned.

And a poem, one of my favorites. A few lines are still give me the grumbles, you can probably tell which. I got inspired by a friend telling me about a friend who received a few rubber bullets in the bum during a demonstration. I also received a lot of inspiration from the Skinny Puppy song Tin Omen, the opening lines are very similar.

The Peace March

The truncheon smash
Face bashed inward,
First martyr.

Flow of gray gas,
Bloodshot rosy eyes

Two cries come forth:
One for the end
Of war;

The second for
The end of their

Rubber bullet
In a girl’s thigh,

From the crowd comes,
Glass smash, sprouting
Gas flame.

Sizzle and cook the
Oppressors for
The cause

Two groups aflame:
One with passion
For ideas

The others from a
Homemade incendiary.
More martyrs

Boot heels grind up
Broken bodies of
Old friends

The truncheon man,
Gets a knife in
The belly

Knifer’s brother,
Ground and smashed.

Rubber bullet
Catches knifer in
An eye

Peace signs abandoned,
Under the bodies
Of fallen

Public servants,
Charred and beaten

Cinder Block flies
Window breaks the
Shards fly

A car overturned
Flames begin—exploding
Catches many

Too chaotic, too
Many dead, a trade;
Rubber to lead

Holes produced,
In those with ideas
Those rioters.

Tis’ all over now
War protested and
War propagated

Who’s the winner?
Neither civil

Nor those with ideas
The only winner,
The worm.

2007-07-30, 11:54 PM
For anyone that's a writer, new or experienced, you may be interested in my new (well, remade - the old version died off due to lack of promoting, which is why I'm posting here xD) writing website. It's a members only site, so your work will only be visable to other registered members (we're aiming for about 15 active membrs). This helps to keep your work private and protected while still giving you the ability to receive group feedback. If you're interested, check out:


(Instructions for joining are in the "Other -> Forum General -> Welcome to Write!" thread.)

If you don't want to join the site, you can check out some gaidens (side-quels) based on my fantasy story on my Deviant Art account at:


Thanks :)

2007-07-31, 08:52 AM
A sword flashed and a streak of pure golden light raced across Erika’s vision. Her guard, or what she could see of him, was fighting a creature seemingly formed completely of a solid black mist, occasionally giving off sharp scratching sounds. The creature howled in anger. It raised up one of its hands and the mist swirled, forming into a spike, no longer mist but a piece of sharp deadly metal that plunged through the guard’s chest, spearing his heart on the end.

The creature stopped and stood up, drawing to its full height. Erika guessed that it must be near nine feet tall. It sniffed, smouldering green eyes appearing as it fixed on her scent.

The mist swirled again, but this time all over, as the creature changed into a wolf-like shape, but far bigger than any wolf that had ever lived. The mouth of the wolf creature opened showing countless rows of sharp jagged teeth, dripping a dark red liquid that Erika instinctively knew was blood. She tried to run away but the ground softened and warped, letting her feet sink through and then sealing up again. She was stuck. The creature was playing with her. Its large slimy forked tongue licked her cheek and she felt a burning pain where it touched. Its mouth opened and it approached.

Erika closed her eyes, not wanting to see her own death and waited. A blazing light filled her closed eyes. She heard a hideous bestial roar, a loud sickly bubbling sound and the cold metallic sound of a sword being sheathed. A familiar voice filled her ears “Are you alright?” It asked. Erika looked up into the eyes of her saviour, into her own eyes, and woke up.

* * * * * * * * *

Erika Álvaro was, at 17, a slender Hispanic teenager with dark almond shaped eyes and long dark brown hair. Her father, Eusebio, was the owner of one of the biggest toy companies in the country and made sure that Erika had always had whatever she wanted and, as a result, she hardly knew how to do anything for herself, until a few years ago. But now, she was capable and looking forward to moving out.

Erika wiped her eyes. Images of the ‘Mist Creature’ still burned into her head. She put a hand against her cheek, a long thin welt had appeared that ended in a fork.

Walking into the kitchen, she opened a cupboard and made herself a bowl of cereal. She ate it in her normal way, eating all the cereal first then leaving the milk until it soaked up all the flavour. She was just about to start the milk when it started to ripple, waves appeared in it as if a stone had been dropped into the centre. With one large ripple, the milk instantly stilled and changed colour, becoming a dark green then, suddenly, white again with a swirling black fog emerging from the middle of the bowl. A swirling black fog with two points of glowing green. Erika jumped back, knocking the bowl off the table and smashing it onto the floor, milk spilling everywhere. Erika cautiously swept the remains of the bowl up and put them in the bin, she rubbed her temples vigorously telling herself it was only a dream, but she knew that she couldn’t convince herself.

Erika looked at the calendar and her face paled “What’s the matter Chica?” Her mother, Siliva Álvaro, said.
“I’m not sure, it just says ‘Erika, Test’ AND I HAVEN’T STUDIED FOR ANYTHING!!”
“Hush Eri… Don’t worry, whatever it is it’ll be fine… though your last report wasn’t the promising …”
“Sorry Eri, look, just try your best”
Erika looked down at her own feet mopingly. She knew her mother was right, it was her second year at college, and although she always got top marks, her last report was all C’s and D’s, a fact she had never understood.

* * * * * * * * *

Erika took the same route every morning to the bus stop, a ten minute walk that never seemed worth the hot sweaty overcrowded bus. However she stuck rigidly to her daily routine. Today was the same as usual, on the bus she struggled to find enough space to breath and felt like a mouse in a hole.

Through the whole journey she felt a presence in her head, like another being and a thought continuously running through her head I’m here to protect you…She shrugged it off and climbed off the bus. Usually she was the only person to get off at this stop but, today, another teenager got off as well. A tall broad shouldered youth with shoulder length electric blue hair and mirrored sunglasses. He wore a tight black T-shirt, a white leather jacket with some military patches sewn onto it and a pair of faded blue jeans.

As he walked past her he uttered “I’m here to protect you” and promptly turned a corner. Erika ran over to him only to find he had disappeared and a Polaroid photo was left in his place.

It showed a row of trees following a long country road flanked by fields on both sides “Ralph Tote Lane” Erika said the name, as it was a spell, calmly while giving the words a sense of power. She wasn’t sure whether it was intuition or just idiocy but she decided that this was worth skipping one day of college for and boarded the bus she knew would take her to the lane.

* * * * * * * * *

When she arrived she saw the youth waiting for her at the crossroads that marked the beginning of Ralph Tote Lane.
“How did you…. Never mind that, why am I here? And who are you?” Erika asked anxiously.
He answered her, though the voice seemed to be coming from the air itself rather than from him “To tell you who I am would take years but, if you must know my position, I am known as the 47586237th Knight of the Golden Crystal. My true name has been lost for centuries, millennia even, but when not known by my title I am called Mukesh.”
He paused “And why you are here? It is to save yourself from what will happen. Maybe not soon, maybe not ever, if things do not follow one path, but the greater chance is, that it will. And now, it is my turn for a question. Haven’t you ever wondered why this place is named after someone who never existed?”
“He didn’t?”
“No, rearrange the letters”
“A help trot?, Petal Thor?, Hat Let Pro!!!”
“T…H…E P…O…R…T…A…L!!”
“Oh” Erika said meekly.
“It is a portal that leads into random holes in time-space that open periodically. Go into the first one you see and take this” Mukesh handed her a longsword, in a scabbard, stylised like a feather “You may need it Lakshmi”
She took the sword “Why did you call me that?”
“She was a goddess of luck and prosperity in my homeland”
“I hope it rubs off” replied Erika.
* * * * * * * * *

Erika stood at the entrance of the road, trembling. Not because of the cold, but because she, Erika Álvaro, was about to go to future, or a future that may never happen, and change it. She had little time to think as a blazing white ring appeared in the air. Gulping she stepped into it and saw a dark skinned, long haired young woman being approached by a wolf-shaped black creature. She silently unsheathed the sword and walked up to the beast, raised the sword and plunged it into the creature’s head. The creature let out a vicious roar and started rolling around the ground, dissolving with a sickly bubbling sound. Erika loudly sheathed her sword. She turned around and saw the body of Mukesh dead on the floor with a hole through his chest, his heart lying a few feet away. She walked over to the woman, who opened her eyes, and Erika asked her “Are you alright?”
She looked into the victim’s eyes, into her own eyes and collapsed.

What do you think?

2007-08-08, 11:34 PM
Please take a look at my story at http://pairak.deviantart.com/
Currently there are only one story there but ill stry to add more ASAP. :smallbiggrin:

2007-08-13, 01:27 PM
This is my story....


Please read and review (be brutally honest! :smalltongue: )


2007-08-15, 11:01 PM
The Race

I bid goodbye my humble friends in back,
The raspb'rry truck I crawl into again,
Resuming previous weeks' well-driven track,
Another four and twenty miles to gain;

The golden lights aback of me remind,
And light the road's smooth curves I've yet to go,
The lines and asphalt I've long left behind,
Untot'llable times since many months ago;

Though soon to reach the quietude of home,
And all the humble comforts of my room,
The morrow's tired necessity is known,
And soon the Race again I must resume;

Red taillights in my sight beg I forbear:
"Boy, whom are you racing? and to where?"

I like my job. And that's a blessing. But no matter how much you like your job, you're bound to feel the monotony of it every now and then. For me, it's not in the work but in the commute. I actually composed this about the trip home, on my trip home tonight, and it was somewhat different in my head then (and somewhat better, I think), but I delayed in recording it and I couldn't think straight because my brother refuses to turn down the TV in the next room. I any case, this is in Shakespearian sonnet form (Three quatrains terminating in a couplet: abab cdcd efef gg) and I did my best to keep it in iambic pentameter.

I don't like poetry. I don't like reading it and I don't like writing it. But I do what the little voice tells me.

2007-08-15, 11:40 PM
This content of this post is actually copied and pasted from another thread called "Watch it grow and then collapse" under "Silly Message Board Games." The setting is Koboldville, this small community full of kobolds (of course), plus a few other humanoids. Although they rely on swords and sorcery, Koboldville has many of the trappings of modern-day life: hence the presence of TV cameras in this post.

This story doesn't make a lot of sense outside the context of Koboldville, but I've decided to post it here because I put a lot of work into it and thought, 'What the hell.'" If I were writing it as its own story, I would shift the setting to be a 1950s-era community. But I would also have to completely dump the "live reporting" aspect of the story.

Anyways, this thing takes about 20 minutes to read, if you have the patience. Warning: it does get a little gory.

At the Dawn of A New World
"We now interrupt your regularly-scheduled programming. We shall now bring you a special report on the strange and terrifying appearance of the building known as 'The World of Tomorrow.'"

A kobold TV announcer appears on the screen, wearing a bad toupee. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Krik, and welcome to a special edition of Koboldville News. First, a warning: some of the things you hear and see tonight are graphic and may be disturbing to some viewers. Discretion is advised."

Part 1: Worlds Collide
"Our topic of discussion is the silver dome known as The World of Tomorrow, which appeared on the outskirts of Koboldville approximately one week ago. As you already know, eyewitnesses at the hot dog stand across the street felt a tremendous wind pick up, followed by a blinding flash of light. Anything flammable within a hundred feet of the point of origin immediately burst into flame, including the hot dog cart."

A kobold with severe burns on his face appears on screen. "It was so bright … I couldn't see for at least two minutes, but I could feel the flames … I started rolling on the ground … I could hear screaming in the background … and then when I could see again, there was this huge dome, with a shiny surface that reflected the light … I, I just couldn't believe it."

The announcer re-appears and continues talking. "After ambulances showed up to transport the 12 on-scene eyewitnesses to hospital, local militia members cordoned off the area to prevent spectators. A crowd of spectators quickly gathered, but the militia were able to keep civilians back from the site."

"The building resembles a dome approximately one kilometre (a half-mile) in diameter. It appears to be fahsioned entirely of silver, though local scholars have now determined the dome is actually made of an alloy unknown to our modern science. At one side are a pair of metal doors."

"Above the doors are a series of large red letters, each the size of an average kobold, spelling out several words in the human's Common language. In the middle of these letters is a large red object about three feet in length with white stripes on its side. Scholars have now determined from studying the long cylindrical object that is called a 'rocket,' though what purpose this rocket serves is unknown to us."

"Together, these words read: The World of Tomorrow.'"

Part 2: War of the Worlds
Krik takes on a grim tone. "About two hours after the appearance of the building, local militia rounded up a small squad of about six high-level warriors and magic-users to enter the building. Approximately five minutes after doing so, the screams of the party could be heard from inside, along with high-pitch squeals and buzzing noises."

"Militia members attempted to move bystanders away from the scene as quickly as possible, but it was too late. Suddenly, six beings resembling iron golems exited the dome, each approximately eight feet tall and with smooth metal skin. They moved in a jerky fashion and had glowing red slits that we can only assume were their eyes. Some carried strange weapons that emitted beams of energy that could pierce right through a person's body; others had sharp circular blades at the ends of their arms that spun and tore cruelly into flesh. They attacked the crowd, killing an estimated 61 kobold civilians, including 10 humans, dwarves and goblins that were also on scene."

"Militia members fought the golem-like creatures. The battle was ferocious and resulted in at least 30 more deaths. Several buildings were also set aflame. We now present you footage taken by one of our cameramen, Yikyik, before he was killed by the creatures. We at Koboldville News regret his passing."

The picture cuts to scenes of an apartment building in flames, and kobolds running in panic along the street. Shouting and screams can be heard in the background. The view shifts to a large metallic being, a moment before the camera is dropped and fuzz fills the screen.

"Greater casualties were only prevented by the appearance of the dwarven warrior Sam, owner of the Short Stool tavern, whose warhammer seemed especially damaging to the creatures. Also, a half-orc druid named Halvor, who was passing through Koboldville and happened upon the slaughter, manipulated the weather to cause lightning bolts, which struck one creature dead. This tipped off other militia members to use crushing weapons and electricity, which quickly turned the tide of battle."

A kobold wearing scorched armour and a bandage over one eye appears on the screen, and is identified as Meep, captain of the kobold militia.

"These things were tough. Blades did practically nothing to them, and they didn't seem to breath, so poison gas or choking spells did nothing to them. Cold didn't do much. Fire was a little better, but they would spring these hoses out of their chests that sprayed this weird foam to put out flames. And they were strong! One of these things, it knocked off a tree by running into it! With another, we knocked its weapon out of its hands, and it pulled poor Marpo in half, it did."

The announcer returns. "After the creatures were defeated and the blazes were extinguished, another party was assembled to investigate the building and possibly rescue any wounded warriors who survived the initial assault. They were accompanied by a TV crew from Koboldville News, and we will now show you footage from inside the World of Tomorrow."

Part 3: The World is Hollow
The camera points at a group of kobold warriors and wizards, led by Sam the dwarf and Halvor the druid, as they stand outside the dome. Sam is the first to walk up to the building, cautiously pushing open the doors and going inside. A moment passes before he shouts back "All clear."

The lobby of the dome is the same as the outside — all full of smooth, shiny reflectives surfaces. Light comes from squares of glass protruding in certain spots along the wall. There are two more exits from the room, one an open corridor and the other a large set of metal doors, about 12 feet high.

In the middle of the floor are four of the dead kobold warriors, lying in a pool of blood, burned and slashed by the same weapons as used on the spectators outside.

But they are not the only bodies here. Off to one side are three skeletons, approximately the size of humans. Their flesh is completely gone, but it appears they were killed by the same beams of energy used by the golems, as their bones are scorched. One is small like a human child, and the other two appear to be adults. They are huddled together, holding on to each other as though they died in fear.

They lie at the base of the feet of a statue of another human. It is not made of metal or wood but of a hard substance that is smooth to the touch, and the statue is painted. It depicts a human male wearing a puffy white suit suit with a glass globe tucked under one arm and a flag with stars and stripes in the other hand. He is standing on the surface of a sphere pock-marked with craters. At the bottom is a placard that says, "Welcome to the World of Tomorrow — Looking to the Future of Us All!."

Suddenly, there is a noise.

Everyone wheels around to see another strange golem-like creature enter the room from the corridor. This one, however, is much smaller, standing only three feet high. It has no legs, but moves forward on wheels; its arms are tiny and incredibly thin, ending in spider-like fingers. Also unlike the creatures outside, it has no face has a featureless yellow circle with two black dots for eyes and a thick black smile.

"Welcome to the World of Tomorrow, a special feature of the 1978 World's Fair! This exhibit is sponsored by Cybus Industries. I am your Tour Guide. Would you like a tour?"

Its voice is metallic but cheerful and pleasant. The words seemingly come from a small silver box where the creature's throat should be.

The group lowers their guard, as the creature seems to pose no threat. It says nothing more for the next few minutes as we silenty study, when it repeats the question, "Would you like a tour?"

A kobold wizard casts Detect Magic, but there is no Magic Mouth spell or any other enchantment in place that would allow the creature to speak. In fact, the creature is completely non-magical.

Questions to the creature are ignored. Sam repeatedly asks, "Who are you? Have you seen our comrades? Small creatures, like these?" He gestures to the corpses.

The creature is silent.

"Who are you, then?" he asks. "And who were the monsters who attacked Koboldville? Where did this place come from? Why is it here? Why was our town attacked?"

The creature does not answer, and only inquires, "Would you like a tour?"

Several minutes of back-and-forth questioning ensue, with the creature responding to any questions only with stony silence before asking its own question again.

At length, Halvor pulls Sam aside. “This creature seems to have few answers to give us. Perhaps if we follow it, we will be able to solve the mystery of this place,” Halvor whispers.

Sam nods, “Aye, but let’s be careful.”

Halvor steps forward, just as the creature asks again if the group would like a tour. "Yes … we would like a tour,” he answers.

A pinging noise comes from the box-creature, and it wheels around. "Then follow me, welcome guests, as we explore the world that is to come!" It then rolls toward the open corridor, stopping to wave a beckoning arm and say, "This way!"

Part 4: A Short History of the World
"First we shall visit the Hall of History!" The tour guide slowly leads the party into the corridor, which bends and turns a gradual corner.

On the walls are incredibly-detailed murals depicting humans in different scenes. Humans are seen at war, brandishing swords and strange long-shafted weapons. Humans are seen building cars and at the wheels of horseless carriages, also made of metal. Humans are seen gathered at what appear to be celebrations in the backyard of homes that are completely alien to the average kobold's eyes. They are all dressed strangely, and there are no other species, aside from animals, in the murals.

The last mural depicts a silver saucer-like shape in the night sky, seemingly made from the same material as the dome. There are no humans in this mural, only the saucer.

"As we know, the 20th century was a time of great change for the United States of America. In July 1947, an unidentified aircraft crashed near the community of Roswell, New Mexico. Although the United States military attempted to confiscate the aircraft, the crash occured directly besides the community of Roswell, and a crowd formed around the Roswell Disc, as we call it today. Local policemen and reporters were the first to enter the aircraft, discovering the bodies of two dead aliens inside. Though the government attempted to cover up the crash, too many people had already learned of its existence."

"We have never been able to determine where the aliens came from, but from that day on, the world has benefited greatly from the technological discoveries that were made within that saucer. Space travel had been accomplished by rockets in 1942, but by 1950, America was able to establish the first artificial satellite in space. Landing on the moon came a year later; we were on Mars by 1960."

"Computer technology evolved from large processing units that could only be fit in a small room to microchips that could fit on the head of a pin within two decades. Transportation relying on carbon-based fuels became virtually obsolete, and viable hover-transportation — once thought a fantasy — became widespread."

The creature continues listing off details of its strange world as the corridor bends, when the party suddenly spots the corpse of another kobold. This one is slumped forward, a smoking hole in his back. The creature keeps talking even as the party investigates the body, though it eventually stops.

"Continue, may I?"

Halvor the druid is the first to respond. "Yes, creature, continue."

It lets out another pinging sound, and the voice starts up again. "Most astounding, however, were the implications for entertainment. TVs were in every home in the world by 1955, and consumers had access to literally hundreds of channels via satellite. The Internet became widespread by 1960. The first portable video game console was released in 1957. Virtual reality was developed in 1967 — now jokingly dubbed the 'Summer of Love,' as the technology was pioneered and adopted throughout the world by the pornography industry."

The robot then turns to the group, including the cameraman. "But with so many entertainment options available to the public, modern man found himself with a conundrum: how does one find the time to indulge his desires after spending most of his waking hours doing chores or working? The answer: technology!"

The tour guide then turns and begins moving again. It stops again a portion of the corridor where the wall disappears, replaced by a sheet of transparent material. Inside, the party sees a field of corn.

Part 5: A Brave New World
"Cybus Industries, makers of the ever-popular ComCast and handheld Lightglo, present to you now a few looks at technological breakthroughs we may be seeing in the new future," says the creature.

The party looks through a "window" of transparent material to the scene inside. In it, a farmer, made of the same shiny substance as the statue in the lobby, stands with his back to several corn rows that also have an unnatural look to them; they are too small, for one, and some of the plant's leaves are white.

In the background, small metal creatures, suspended in mid-air by cords hanging from the ceiling, extend long metal "arms" to sheathe and collect his crop.

A wall along the back first shows a sunset, which by some strange illusion slowly shifts into late day, and then night. The kobolds murmur as they note placement of the stars, which are out of alignment, and the presence of only two moons in the sky.

The tour guide begins talking anew. "Advances in genetic engineering will soon effectively eliminate world famine, as farmers will be able to grow crops that are less reliant on soil conditions, meaning farmers anywhere in the world will be able to plant crops. Also, certain types of vegetables that are noxious to common pests like grasshoppers are now being tested by our sister company, SunCore. While this may affect certain bird populations, today's farmer will no longer worry about losing a portion of his yield to pests, and without relying on harmful chemicals!"

"But still, the farmer has to go harvest his crops, doesn't he? Now, thanks to leaps forward made by Cybus Industries, we have developed cost-effective harvester 'drones' that will be able to seed fields, spread liquid fertilizer and collect the crops when the growing season is over!"

The tour guide then rolls forward, stopping before another sheet of transparent material. This room shows a scene from what appears to be a house, with white-tiled floors and wooden counters. A human female and a human male, similar to the farmer in the last exhibit, sit at a nearby table.

A motionless metallic being, similar to the creatures from outside, stands at a full sink, washing dishes. it is smaller and more like. The party drives its weapons, but the creature seems non-threatening.

"If there's one kind of work we'd all like to eliminate, it's housework," the guide says. "We already rely on many forms of technology — dishwashers, stoves and so on — to shorten the workload, but it isn't enough. But thanks to Cybus Industries, we will soon each have our own personal butlers and maids in the Mark-1, a robot that will be able to perform simple chores like cooking food and mowing the lawn. Human beings will never have to 'find time' to clean the house again!"

"By 1990, we expect one of the Mark-1s in every home in America!" it says, before rolling forward.

The journey continues before many other scenes, each one depicting some new 'technological marvel' described by the robot. Suits that regulate temperature and recycle sweat. Cold fusion. Mechanical pets. Artificial dimensions. The use of nanotechnology in curing disease and its applications in plastic surgery. Colonizing a planet called ‘Mars.’

As they walk, the party notes dried blood splatters along the floor. In some places it is sparse; in others the floor is nearly red with it.

Bored with the ceaseless presentations, one "scene" shocks the party out of its complacency. As the metallic creature discusses the "obesity epidemic gripping the modern world," it stops before a room filled with charred human corpses. Many of them have been murdered in the same fashion as the humans in the lobby, and are stacked high in piles. All seem to have been rotting for years.

"… By actually consuming human fat, Slimfast bacteria will soon be diminishing waistlines across the country!" The robot continues.

"How did those people die?" one kobold asks, and is ignored.

The kobolds murmur, and Halvor offers up a prayer.

The creature stops again. "This is the second-last stop on the tour, folks, so prepare to be amazed. No cheesy dioramas in this display! If you look through that window," it says, extending a thin arm, "you will see a theoretical teleportation engine!"

Part 6: World War Machines
The party looks through, and sees an entire wall of meters and blinking lights. Its appearance is completely alien to the party. Sam the dwarf is the first to speak, asking, "What does it do?"

The tour guide chirps back, "The engine allows for the teleportation of non-living matter across great distances! Although scientists have not yet cracked the secret to transporting living creatures, they can successfully send inorganic objects and non-living organic matter hundreds of miles in the blink of an eye. The military applications sunder the imagination. Some say it will one day allow us to cross into new dimensions!"

"How big is it?" he asks, wearily.

"This model is so large it extends throughout the walls of the Tomorrow Dome itself!" the tour guide says, before rolling forward.

Suddenly, the corridor gives way to a set of metal doors. "And here is the final exhibit!" Its arms wave in a comical flourish, and it moves slightly off to the side, as though ushering the party through.

Sam steps forward, pushing open the doors. It opens to another large hall, where they see the remaining two kobold corpses, their bodies shorn into pieces.

The hall is otherwise empty, except for six large alcoves set into both walls that would fit the creatures from outside.

The tour guide rolls ahead of Sam and the kobolds, and begins another speech. "These are the Mark-2 'Guardian' models!" it says, sweeping one of its tiny hands.

"While the Mark-1 is built for housework, the Mark-2 models will be used for war! Too long has human blood been spilled in constant warfare. The proliferation of A-bombs were supposed to end war, but we only had more conflict! More battles! Vietnam, Afghanistan, India and Brazil! It never stopped!"

"But now, thanks to Cybus Industries, the blood of American soldiers will never have to be spilled again, thanks to the Mark-2s! Each unit is the equivalent of a small battalion of soliders, and will soon be deployed by the fields of battle as early as 1985! We will soon no longer need to have a military; the Mark-2s will wage war for us!"

"And that is the tour. You may exit back into the lobby through those doors! Thank you for visiting the World of Tomorrow!" the guide says, pointing to a door in the corner.

Bewildered, Sam asks, "So, all these people died … for what?"

"Thank you for visiting the World of Tomorrow!" it repeats.

He shouts, "Who built those things that killed all our people? Who built those metal monsters? Who made the Mark-2s?"

Another ping sound came from the Tour Guide. “Cybus Industries was the original manufacturer of the Mark-2s. The models in this museum were strictly for display only. However, as per the instructions of the curator, I restored them to act as security guards to protect the museum.”

Halvor spoke up. “From who, creature? Protect the museum from who?”

“From vandals, of course!” it chimed. “After the fall of New York, hundreds of vandals cloistered at the World’s Fair seeking refuge. The curator insisted the museum be protected at all costs!”

“And where is this curator now? And how did this place come here?”

"Thank you for visiting the World of Tomorrow!" the tour guide says.

“HOW DID YOU GET HERE, MACHINE?!” Sam shouts, his face turning red.

“Thank you for visiting the World of Tomorrow!”

Enraged, Sam raises his warhammer and brings it down on the tour guide, smashing the smiley-face in two and sending sparks flying. He brings down again and again, until there is nothing left but circuits.

Part 7: The End of the World
The scene flips back to Krik, wearing a disturbed and bewildered expression. After a moment's pause, he says, "Ladies … and gentlemen, that concludes our broadcast. Clearly, we have seen some … strange things here tonight. Hopefully, in the days to come, we will be able to make sense of what we have seen."

“As we know now, after the Tour Guide was destroyed, an alarm sounded and the party was attacked by large metal arms extending down from the ceiling. The arms fired energy beams at the party, killing Halvor the druid. The others were able to escape by immediately exiting into the lobby, although several of the kobold militia members were badly injured.”

"We will have more to report as they come in. I shall remind viewers that civilians are not allowed within the zone designated 'Ground Zero' around the World of Tomorrow. Anyone seen attempting to enter the World of Tomorrow will be arrested."

"We now return you to your regularly-scheduled programming. Good night."

2007-08-19, 06:44 PM
Here's a little poem I just wrote. It's all-new, hasn't gone through any revisions yet. I know there have got to be flaws, I haven't written anything in a long time, but the part about the maggots just popped into my head and I started writing...

and after it happened there was silence, the silence that muffles and strangulates, that places it’s hold on the world and never lets go

and for the first time he was at peace

standing looking at the wreckage with pride and horror

watching the maggots go in and out of the eye sockets and forming a loop like Jormungandr of old

but unlike the world-serpent this cycle has an end, when the flesh will begin to rot away and the maggots will do the rest, taking the face to oblivion with them, ever voracious and insatiable

and Death looked over his work and for the first time in years a quite toothy smile split his face

and he called his steed to him

it’s nostrils overflowing with the fires of hell, eager to take him to his next destruction

death and the six-legged horse rode off

and silence gripped the ruins forever

It was getting a bit goth there, so I kinda worked to off-set it in stanzas 6 and 8. Please, be brutally honest with me. If I'm going to get back into writing I need some criticism.

EDIT: Oh yeah! And any thoughts for a title would be nice. Right now I've got silence, but there must be something better.

2007-08-23, 06:55 PM
I actually wrote an "Order of the Stick" fanfic - it's at http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3738224/1/The_Order_Of_The_Stick_Teambuilding
if anyone is interested...

2007-08-28, 08:31 PM
Welcome and take a look at Glimpses of Eden (http://glimpsesofeden.livejournal.com/), a new chapter-by-chapter high-fantasy story written by my good friend Rhiannon Marie. She's often far too busy with writing to post her chapters, so I'm the one who manages that. Thanks in advance for all the great comments about this new great story. Chapters one and two already posted.

~MafiaPenguin (Jake)

2007-08-29, 06:21 AM
Starlight Chronicles (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=54994)

A hopeful novel in which a crew dragged together by a disturbed Captain find a secret conspiratorial cult, but must suffer eachother first.

2007-08-29, 12:43 PM
As a writing experiment while I was putting together a language, I came up with this traditional Jannic funeral dirge (Note: Janni not related to Genie Janni)

Insmin Ka'kel (Bright After)
Temi ant mok
Tlan la'as yosimok
Et pariso ter'ai ken se'ai

Tlan la'as simbels
In' ken sol mirels
Et prk salnas ken amna

Tlan pak kri'asti
Retis ken kelti
Et mi'il ken si'il

Unt keh lem kri'asi?
Temi ken sun pri'ni
Kri'asti mat ins

Kelzut emsil lektal
Elskup keh umtal
Et mul te'em ken she'sem

Eta umt yosnil mok
Spak sur ken kesimok
Et kek mel surh'ek

Ken kilhes keh lhes
Sil'he mall yosix pr'ka
Tlan tal shess

On this day
We see tomorrow
And darkness cover(s) the land

We see stars
As the sun fades
And night covers the land

We say goodbye
Forget the lier
And greet the dawn

What is it like?
On the other side
Goodbye my one

No longer whole
All is different
And I feel the flood

Come back some day
Speak of the yesterday
And tell your story

The ground is cold
Do you shiver?
We are well


2007-08-29, 02:52 PM
The Adventures of Tom and Darien (http://www.freewebs.com/taotad) is a fantasy/adventure/quest thing that trieds not to take itself too seriously. I'm on Part 8 of whoknowshowmany (it's relatively new) and will be adding new parts as often as I can as well as improving the rest of the site. I also have an artist! Pictures pending..... :smallsmile:

2007-08-30, 04:24 PM
Wrote a poem the other day. It was originally written in French. I'm afraid it doesn't translate really well. The poem has more depth and lyricism in the original. A lot of wordplay is lost and in French it, y'know, rhymes. The title is Youth.


Sleeping late, his papa must
Go back and forth, nervously,
Finally he dresses the child for school
While the little one is still and doesn't dream
Afterwards, he slips away with booze
And for a long time is somewhat burdened

Later, his mother wishes
To kiss his mouth, to calm
Feverish reds, and to die laughing
At his shyness when he sits at the table
Over breakfast, she explains
That it was her unbeatable good luck charm

Sleeping late, his dreams no longer belong to him
Later, an obedient class takes a trip
To see the ocean for the first time
Back and forth, the airy waves
Back and forth, like the knee of his father
Who had one last drink before dying

The sea salt does not make his nostrils swell
The echoes of gulls fade away at his ears.
No unbound horizon, no unparalleled grey
He sees only the face of papa in the seascape
And without knowing why, feels regret

Papa was a sailor, burial at sea off Brest
Many times he approaches the pier
But it is still invisible to him.
He throws shining sand
Into the water that hides the memory of a young body
And he does not recall ...

There are no librettos to save him!
No sweeping knowledge, no mawkish riparian
The timorous hind of Venus will terrify
Until a few nosy comments
On the subject of feminine first blood

To an old lady (already in sixth grade!)
She takes (so gentle) his ears
And guides him all the way
To the notch with the scent that awakens primitive sadness

Where his head, still wandering beneath her pleats
Startling her like a fawn, he sobs
And finally goes out to sea.

2007-09-02, 08:00 PM
Here's my story: Torn: Prologue (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=3132938)

Critique away!

Old One
2007-09-13, 11:35 AM
Here's a link to my one and only finished story longer then a few lines! :smallbiggrin:
I know it needs some polishing still, but I'm simply too lazy to fix it right now. It's a horror story in a fantasy setting. Please read and comment! :smallwink: I love to hear what people think of it! Thanx! :smallsmile:


2007-09-21, 08:34 AM
this is a WIP, part of a series I'm penning for a school paper

Twelve Gates Part I:

The grating screech of the gate closing could be heard the length of High Street. Anyone leaving their houses this late would see a darkened, thin figure cloaked in both clothing and shadows. The smoky haze gifted by the torches lit along the street did little to show the stranger to her destination, but it was enough. Her gait left nary a sound in her wake, even over the loosened cobblestones which formed the side street she traversed. She turned left and gazed through the dimness to look upon a building. The establishment was made of wood, and looked in immediate danger of collapse. The door was made of a different wood, and looked as if it had been battered of its hinges regularly. Above it hung a sign, nearly unnoticeable at the hour; The Basilisk’s Tongue.

She slipped into the smoky den of Lakeport’s underside like a snake through a crack in a foundation. Pipe smoke and muttered conversations filled the air. This was truly a place where anything could be found, sought or no; information, riches, enemies, a knife in the dark. She slid onto a barstool, her cloak pulled tightly around her, her head tilted down. She ordered a goblet of wine in a hushed tone as the men beside her chatted animatedly. Apparently, a shipment of some kind had gone missing en route. She sipped her cheap wine without complaint. It had been weeks since she had been in a dwelling of any kind. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to not know the bitter embrace of the autumn wind and the suffocating protection of mother night.

Hours passed to the steady pounding of rain against the roof. It astounded her how the roof managed not to leak. The serenity of the den was soon interrupted by new patrons; a handful of greasy-looking, unwashed dwarves. The man leading them in appeared to be slightly older, streaks of gray accentuating his long, onyx hair and intricately plaited beard. The few inches of skin visible on his face were marred by a deep scar running from his right eye to the tip of his squashed nose. The scorched leather garb he wore was positively ancient, clinking as he strode inside, betraying the presence of his mail shirt. His followers, most likely his kin, were similarly dressed. ‘Probably forge workers’, she thought.

Her eyes followed the dwarves as they made their way across the tavern, usurping a table occupied by a dark haired man in solid gray, his face plain, but deeply immersed in thought. She watched as the dwarves raised their voices raucously as they attempted to bully the man out of his table. Apparently, they didn’t foresee the immediate consequences of their actions; The man kicked over the table, pinning two of the dwarves as he rose, his right hook catching another of the dwarves on the nose, stunning him.

A faint glimpse of crimson could be seen as the man rose, and all eyes turned to it, some men casting frightened glances to the door, others groping at their belts for knives. Whispers circled the room, as if part of a collective shudder; speculation to who the man in gray was, or rather, what he was.

The two pinned dwarves resigned themselves finally as the stranger squared off against their leader. The last dwarf rolled up his sleeve, revealing his right fist was enclosed in a gauntlet. The burnished steel gleamed in the candle light as he rushed the human, uttering a feral shriek as he dove forward. The human sidestepped, but took a blow in the chest for his efforts. As they fell, the hem of the strange man’s cloak rose, revealing a scarlet doublet. Tension in the tavern drew taut; many attempted to discretely leave and failed. The color and cut of the concealed garment revealed the man was an officer of the Crimson Guard, the empire’s elite soldiers. Xanalia stayed put, watching the man with newfound interest as she considered her options; she could leave in the crowd, but if this was a setup, she’d be processed with the rest of these petty criminals. The alternative…

2007-09-26, 03:37 AM
A poem I came up with earlier this week while I was working at my coal forge in the backyard:

The Blacksmith's Prayer
Let me not be made of gold,
My only worth in beauty.
Nor cast me out of silver,
My strength found in impurity.
Make me not from copper,
To bend at the slightest touch.
Even iron, though sturdy,
Must yield to time and rust.
From steel let me be fashioned,
And forged strong and true,
And folded by experience
That I might be of use.

2007-10-13, 06:40 AM
For anyone interested in a bit of alt-history, my Sins of the Fathers (http://forum.paradoxplaza.com/forum/showthread.php?p=7494964#post7494964) is a history book style AAR with the basic premise being a Vatican led Risorgimento - ie 19th C Italian unification - that leads to the Rise and Fall of Papal Italy. It may not be narrative but personally I feel that this is some of the best writing that I've done.

2007-10-15, 06:08 PM
I attempted to write a novel. Actually its finished on paper, I should finish typing it. Its about a group of misfit teens thrown into a war against a tyrant over a small section of Rural Canada.
Any ways read it, don't read it, love it, hate it, talk about it, compliment it's writer do what you will with the link to the first six chapters of it. (http://www.fictionpress.com/u/566614/)

Sir *TIM!!!!!!*
2007-10-22, 08:16 PM
Dogs of War (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=60770) A story I've just started writing. Ordinarily I would wait until done or well into it before posting, but it's a rather long story so I need to decide whether to go forward with it. Criticize (please) and tell me what you think.

2007-10-29, 08:54 AM
A story I wrote a while back for Interzone's email submission. Pipe Dream (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=61008).

A Rainy Knight
2007-10-29, 03:17 PM
I wrote this little short story for school. I had to make some changes I didn't like in order to meet my teacher's guidelines, but I still think that it turned out alright all right. I don't have anywhere to link to, so, spoiler tag.

The sun sleepily crawled into the London sky. A cold wind blew over the dew-spotted grass of Sebastian Robert’s spacious estate. His luxurious mansion contemptuously looked down on the surrounding city from atop its hill. Towering columns framed its magnificent, black doorway. Fallen leaves littered the ground, heralding the approach of winter.
Even more regal and arrogant than the house was its owner, Sebastian Robert. He was notorious around London for his near-legendary greed and pennypinching. Sebastian stepped out the door, the wind blowing through his bushy mustache and short, brown hair. He gathered his fur coat around himself to shield himself from the biting chill of the autumn wind as he walked out to retrieve his newspaper. Much to his chagrin, Harold was camped in his usual place outside of Sebastian’s elegantly crafted gate. “Spare change, mister?” begged Harold, his hoarse speech riddled with hacking coughs. Harold was good at heart, but this quality was lost on Sebastian, due to the tattered state of his clothing. Sebastian grimaced at the beggar’s unwashed stench. Sebastian indifferently picked up his newspaper and glared at Harold in disgusted silence. He pivoted on the spot and imperiously strutted back to his house, Harold’s hacking coughs punctuating the steady noise of the breeze like an irregular drumbeat.
Sebastian made his way inside and sat down in his study, looking out the vast windows at the town of London like a man looking upon a pile of garbage. He heard a knock at the door. “Come in, William,” he replied. The butler strode across the room and placed a plate holding a breakfast of toast and eggs on his desk. William had served Sebastian for many years now, and he was one of the few people that Sebastian actually had a fondness for. He was knowledgeable, had well-groomed white hair and a short goatee, and carried himself with the dignity that one might expect from the upper classes. Most people would say that William was a living statue. Sebastian gave a quick gesture of gratitude and waved William away. Sebastian quickly finished his breakfast and continued to gaze out of the massive windows in front of him. He looked at the edge of his estate, and scowled upon sighting Harold. The beggar was shivering and clutching his tattered, black cloak to his body, giving him the appearance of the specter of death. However, Sebastian felt no sympathy for him, his attention diverted by the desk full of financial reports that Sebastian would spend the rest of his day reviewing.
The next morning, Sebastian walked out for his paper as he always did. When he reached the gate, he glared at Harold and picked up his paper. “Please be generous, kind sir,” pleaded Harold. The beggar pulled his cloak tightly around himself as the wind ran its icy fingers through his hair. Sebastian gave no response and proceeded back up the hill. As he trudged up the steps to his door, however, he realized that he had forgotten his key. He seized the smooth, icy brass gargoyle that served as a door knocker and repeatedly slammed it against the door, the booming noises issuing down the hill. He knew, however, that William was not a fast fellow. Sebastian cursed his luck and began to shiver. The wind was a steady hail of cold blades, and he was caught in the open. Finally, William opened the door. Sebastian quickly rushed through the door, his silence indicating his displeasure. He spent the remainder of the day behind the locked doors of his study, seeking solace in his comfortingly repetitive paperwork like a child might retreat to a stuffed animal.
Sebastian slept extremely poorly that night. He tossed and turned, thinking about how he had felt when the grasp of winter enveloped him. What would it be like, he thought, to face that every day? He tried to banish these thoughts from his mind, but they continued to tug at the edges of his consciousness. Finally, he drifted off into sleep, only to be confronted with nightmares of freezing and death. These dreams repeated again and again, throwing him into a sort of madness. When he awoke, he quickly dressed and stormed out of the door of his house. He sprinted down the steep walkway, clumsily stumbling and nearly tripping several times. Sebastian’s eyes were afire with the glow of a madman as he frantically opened the gate. His hands fumbled with the key in his craze. He managed to open the gate. He flew around the corner, eyes locked on Harold’s usual place. A wave of relief washed over him as he saw the beggar. At that moment, Harold was made of pure gold in Sebastian’s eyes. He composed himself and strolled over, whistling as he went. “Come on then, Harold, let’s get you someplace warm,” said Sebastian. He grabbed Harold by the arms and pulled him to his feet. Just as Sebastian felt that he had finally found out what it meant to do good, Harold’s lifeless body fell to the ground. William, who had been following closely behind, impassively commented, “I suppose that late is not better than never.”

2007-11-25, 03:37 PM
Well, I've written a little something called Monkey Business (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=64289). It's a comedy, of sorts. I never originally meant it to be one, but it sort of turned out that way. It features pirates, pop culture references, running jokes, an epic plot and a talking monkey, so be sure to check it out!
Oh, and you might want to print it out, it's more pleasant to read that way, since it wasn't written to be read in a browser window.

2007-12-08, 12:35 AM
I felt the itch recently, and wrote a short little yarn, apropos of very little, of which I am very proud. You can find it in this forum, or just click here. (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=3630727#post3630727)

Take your time. Enjoy yourself.

2008-01-01, 03:37 PM
Well, I want to publish some of my stories, so here's A Little Shadow (http://www.koboldlife.0nyx.com/lane.html). It's about a poor albino child who one days finds a odd man creeping around her town. Fantasy. Criticism accepted =D

Gem Flower
2008-01-13, 07:01 PM
I don't know how to spoiler, so I'll just put the beginning up. I would like to know if you can follow the story.

One hundred swords of fire darted over the village of Sh’rnta and settled in the outer oak trees of the forest, burning with phoenix-glow like festival lamps. Mothers ushered their children out to see the yearly phoenix crossing. Far up on a hillside, I passed a hand over my eyes as I watched the spectacle and my vision magnified and focused on the phoenixes falling asleep in the trees. After observing them for some time, I sighed and muttered, “Every year I cannot stay. Every year….” I got up and my sight returned to normal. I had to help my family prepare for winter, and I could already look forward to the inevitable argument for not completely covering my arms and legs, not to mention wearing only a half face veil. “I need to leave this place,” I whispered to myself. I arrived at my thatch-roofed hut, swung myself up a tree and jumped into the room shared with my twin brother, Agwim. Agwim understood me, and sympathised with me. He was also the only other human who knew about my powers. Agwim knew full well that I was no demoness, even if I could do things no other could do. I heard my father’s gruff voice, my mother’s harsh voice, and Agwim’s calm voice. Agwim was always the level-headed one. My mother and father sat down in the kitchen to discuss village news, and Agwim entered our room. He took one look at my pained face and said gravely, “You plan to run tonight, don’t you, Siran?” I nodded and replied, just as solemnly, “I found a village orphan who’s enough like me to pass off, if I change her appearance a bit. She’s coming at sundown, and won’t be missed in the village.” Agwim was silent for a moment, then said briskly, “Well, you must prepare. You can’t go as a girl, so change your face to male features. We’re the same size, so I’ll give you some of my clothes.” We had gone over this plan many times before, yet putting it into action was far more difficult than I had hoped. I lifted my rucksack and looked at Agwim. My eyes lingered on him, and my mind was a perplexing muddle of emotions. He was my twin, and I still to this day consider this the most gruelling challenge of my journey.

2008-01-26, 10:35 PM
I wrote this in high school, so a good... 5 or 6 years ago now (has it really been so long?! :smalleek:). I haven't edited it since then, so be kind. I deliberately stayed up late to write it so it'd be nice and weird.

Madman’s Lullaby
To be infinite is merely to exist. To be. A moment; nothing more, nothing less. That is all there is. There is no future, no past. How can anything be that is not now?
Have you ever returned the stare of a cat? Ever focused all your attention on that intense, yellow gaze? Follow his lines, from the quivering tips of his whiskers, along the delicately angled head, down the sinuous back and tail. Return your eyes to his, and share a slow, feline blink.
Open your eyes, look up to the sky and see the lonely emptiness. Barren, nothing but space, into the incomprehensible infinite, occasionally marred by a ball of gas, of rock, or of fire. Impossible explosions rock the desolation from time to time, but there is little out here to hear the deafening bellow of a star in its death-throes. Follow the light cast off by the dying monolith back to the beginning. See it again; see the glow of a star, dead a thousand years, still to burn on for a thousand more – in our heavens, at least.
A shooting star streaks across the dark, perhaps some small fragment from the ruined solar system, hurtled through the empty nothingness. There is an instantaneous flare as the leftover morsel of planet is consumed by the heat of its own entry into the atmosphere of our own pathetic little pebble.
Skim one with me now; flick your wrist and send a smooth, flat stone bounding over the shaded crystal waters. The scent of daffodils whispers past your nose, accompanied by the cautious chatters of small beasts hidden in the thriving undergrowth. Isolate a sound; follow it to its source. Push aside the slippery-smooth waxy leaves, away from the crunching just died away. There is a dead thing there, a rotting mass of half-chewed bones and putrid flesh loosely covered with a scattering of fur. Prod it with your finger, feel the soft fuzz disintegrate at your touch to release a stinking cloud of gas and flies. Follow their flight up, out of the undergrowth to be snatched up by a darting willy-wag-tail. He perches on a little twig, some distance above and away from you. He wags his black tail, turns his bright black eye to yours and gives an odd little bow, then flits off after some more of your flies.
An eagle hangs stationary in the cloudless blue, scowling at you with her fierce golden glare. With a slight twist to her feathers, she veers away. Soar with her, feel the wind over your wings and listen to it whistle past your ears. Stoop and wheel and dive in the sheer joy of existence. Peek into the distant windows of a towering city as though you were sitting on the windowsill.
There is a girl in one of them, on the cusp of womanhood. She stands before of a full-length mirror, staring at the shrivelled sacks of her breasts, the xylophone ribcage. She has eaten three bites of pasta tonight. She only ate that much because her parents had been staring at her while she did it. Turning her back on the wraith in the glass, she drifts into her ensuite. She crouches over the toilet, the porcelain icy beneath her gaunt fingers. As she forces the three bites out of her guts, into her mouth, she feels something tear deep inside of her. She gags, choking on the meagre contents of her stomach. Feel her panic. Experience the enveloping calmness, the stabbing pain as her heart stops. Look into her eyes as she slips onto the tiled floor. See, they are quiet now. No more pain. No more hate. No more. It is a consummation devoutly to be wished.
Glass smashes, outside, on the street. A car alarm sounds, ripping through the tranquillity with its monotone wailing. A prostitute greets us, a crimson gash against the dead grey stone. A warm, empty leer is frozen to her face, even before she looks into our eyes. Give her a wink and twenty dollars to buy some McDonalds for her son. He is at home, getting babysat by his aunt. She doesn’t know what her sister does. Neither does the scarlet whore.
A dirty brown alley cat heaves herself out of a dumpster. She scuttles away as you approach, but pauses, mid-flight, to turn back to you, to meet your eyes with her own yellow orbs. With a flick of her scrawny tail, she indicates to you to follow. Shadows stir and murmur as you pass, but none approach. They lie, lingering gloom in the acrid stink of rubbish, waiting for different prey to go by.
You turn your head to follow the passage of a pretty little girl in a ruby frock, out of place amongst all this dismal grey stone. With a darting glance back at you and a familiar tepid leer, she dissolves into shadow and mist. Swing your eyes back to the cat. She has gone, disappeared into the night. Just like everything else. You are alone. Empty as the void around you. Not even darkness surrounds you. This must be what the blind see.
Turn around. I am here. I am all you need to see. Look into my eyes, gaze into my abyss, and allow me to gaze into yours. Sink into the depths of my insanity.
Be still.
Be quiet.
I am here.
I exist.
We exist.
For eternity.
Our infinite moment.

Can you tell I'd been reading Hamlet and listening to Queen? :smallamused:

Mattarias, King.
2008-02-02, 12:22 AM
I'm unsure if I've posted here before, but I doubt it. are Deviantart links Okay? If not, I'll change them if necessary.

"Prelude to a Winter Peace"- a short play. (http://fuzakeru-oh.deviantart.com/art/Prelude-to-a-Winter-Peace-64057505)

"Story of a Torn Page"- Something from English class. (http://fuzakeru-oh.deviantart.com/art/Story-of-a-Torn-Page-54434778)

And last but not least, "Lorelei". (http://fuzakeru-oh.deviantart.com/art/quot-Lorelei-quot-42193476)

Feel free to browse my gallery, if you want. I also have poetry, but unsure if that goes here.

2008-02-23, 04:10 PM
I posted this in its own thread before I noticed this one, so I'm reposting here.

Hello, everyone.

I'm here to get some exposure for my blog, Tremorville stories. Basically, I post my stories there a chapter at a time in hopes of getting something of a following, because I can't decide on a publisher to send them off to.


I'd appreciate it if you could check it out, drop some comments, and tell your family, friends, and random people on the street.

2008-03-12, 12:05 PM

This is actually my second novel project (the first one I wrote while still in college studying professional writing and is pending an agent's approval to represent me. But thats another matter.)

This is a fantasy work that heavily grabs from my history of playing D&D (So there are paladins and clerics, basically, but nothing else too direct.)

It is just the prologue, covering an event that happens nearly 1000 years prior to the beginning of the actual story.

I would appreciate any feedback you may have regarding this piece. It is short, being only a prologue.

Thank you!

2008-03-14, 05:15 PM
This is an example if I were to start/continue the story base of Crazyfatgoblin! So the story idea.

After the Grand War, which was between the "savage" and "civilized" races, ended in the savage ones defeat, the civilized armies (the humans, elves, halfings, and gnomes but not so much dwarves) captured and enslaved most of the goblins, orcs, and other "savage" races. Only a few were put to the sword, the rest were put to enslavement and gladiatorial arenas, as the winners of the war did not consider the savage races "people" or truly sentient.

Enter Srenok, a kobold hatched after the war, and raised in the arenas. Srenok fights to live, and lives to fight, eat to sustain himself for the next battle, then fight some more. However, Srenok is not just a kobold pit fighter destined to die. He is a Nexus, a rare being who is the focal point for an immense amount of magical power. In a fight intended to kill him off (like all of Srenok's other fights) Srenok unleashes this power, and in the confusion, escapes. Can he survive the civilized races ire at this fact, and the fact that he has become a wanted murderer(gets a price put on his head, therefore deadly bounty hunters want to kill or capture him)? Or will he die, as most of his kind do?

which you can see practically nothing of in this beginning, is his. So I´m probably not able to make money of it, not that I´d be able to with my amateurish writing.:smallredface:
Comments and criticism welcome! But please be gentile, this is my first ever real writing story, thingey, I think its to short for an actual story, if replies are positive and CrazyFatGoblins´ reply is also positive, I´l most likely continue with it.


He couldn’t look over his shoulder to check if the guards were still behind him, that would take to much precious time, and he knew that he should be looking ahead, for a way out.
Quick, around that vendor and into that busy street, and then into that small alley it was an opportunity, they wouldn’t see him in the crowd.

There he could run up those stairs and hide in the doorway, it was lucky that he did that as quickly as he did because on the other side of the alley a group of bounty hunters stood, their scout probably had seen the chase and told them I was coming in this direction. And there was the guard, running quickly while checking doorways. The group of bounty hunters advanced also checking doorways. They were closing in on the middle of the street, they were just below him, he could almost here them talk. It was now, run or keep hiding, but as they got even closer to his location, the middle of the alley, he could hear them talking.

‘Where’s he gone of to?
‘The only way he could get away was by the sewers’

His curiosity had gone up and risked a peek, what he hadn’t seen in his quick flight was that there was an entrance to the sewers…. But even he wasn’t that crazy to go in there…. He decided to try and listen for some more, hoping that they atleast would go away.

‘Look, we checked the whole alley, this is the only way he could escape!’
‘ Boss, I I don’tt wanttt t-to go inttto th-the sewwers’
‘You shut up and follow me’
With that, ‘the boss’ ordered his soldiers, as they were called to go in first, the paranoid bastard’. With him shouting after them ‘I’ll go do the paper work!’ And with a quick sprint he was away, afraid and scared he would probably would drink himself drunk again because he didn’t catch me…

The bounty hunters were looking down the sewer entrance and they’re conversation got a bit louder, allowing him to overhear parts of it.
‘Fools, nobody ever comes out of those sewers, they were build thousands of years ago by the dwarf workers of Dreg-gar, nobody knows how they still work but they do, they do don’t stink and lets leave it at that, leave them in peace I say’
‘ I agree there, lets comb the alley once more and call it a day, we have to catch the scum later.’
S ***? Scum? You filthy humans are the scum here, treating us Kobolds, who let them live when they arrived on these lands, pfft, the humans live to short and forget easily, they don’t write anything down either…

‘Well I’m off, I’d be at Madame Trespe’s place if I’m not at my place’. And the group disbanded, having agreed at the times and starting place of their next hunt of tomorrow. So he had got the last line of their conversation, not that it mattered anyway.
What was important is why they hadn’t noticed him, or the stairs and the doorway for that matter!

Boot Goblin
2008-03-16, 09:56 AM
Hello to all you fellow OOTS fans! I've been a long time fan of the comic, but am new to the forums. I also happen to be a fantasy author and thought this particular thread would be a great way to share my work with like-minded fantasy fans.

"The Forging of Hrongar" is currently published by VirtualTales.com, and the first four chapters can be received for free at the following link. It is a coming of age story, following a traditional Nordic setting in a brand new fantasy realm, and set against the backdrop of a full-scale war of conquest between the dwarves of Hargorod and the demonkin of Hell.

I would love to hear from any of you regarding my work. Feel free to visit my personal site at JamesAHamilton.com and e-mail me, or PM from the OOTS forums.



2008-03-25, 04:50 AM
Here is my attempt at creative writing. Read it if you like Warcraft, and possibly H.P. Lovecraft.


2008-05-05, 06:50 PM
This is my attempt at a DnD Style.... Thing, With cat-girls. also... Need a better name for a Cat-Girl race. (Not the Catfolk. I mean, Different race altogether.)


Lycan 01
2008-05-06, 12:47 PM
I don't really have much to show right now. Unless you're an Elder Scrolls fan...

Would it be alright if I asked a few questions and/or for advice? I'm not sure if there's a thread for that here, so I figured this would be my best bet.

2008-05-16, 03:10 AM
A shameless plug (and crossposting) of a short story set in the world of Legend of the five rings, Rokugan. A short story of heroes, their departure and the consequences.....not much I can say without spoiling, I´m afraid.

The heroes of Aobayashi (http://www.alderac.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=142&t=68147)

2008-05-29, 09:59 PM
I'm trying to get a site to publish me and my friend's story.


2008-05-31, 08:28 PM
A poem I just came up with;

As one night I sat at my keayboard, late
Scattered crumbs from a bread roll
Sprinkled over a nearby plate
The small hours began to take their toll

I stared at the stains in my mug
Noting the smell from the cold coffee
Despite feeling the need for the drug
My bladder warned me not to up the ante

So my legs clicked as I rose from my chair
And because of the fluid I was carrying
Walked slowly, with significant care
Accepting this diversion from my typing

After I left my porcelain throne
Having poured and flushed away my waste
I thought I saw a movement near the phone
Perhaps one of the cats had found itself misplaced?

Shrugging it off I picked up a clean cup
And wondered if I should clean the filter
Or simply put up with some instant muck
Then from behind I swore there was a titter

I turned around and saw nothing
Just empty, dull kitchen space
Deciding nothing in my mind needed curing
An expression of relief swept my face

So I returned to the open cupboard
And that's when, with terror, I saw it
I froze on the spot, almost anchored
Too terrified for a scream to even emit

This was the end, I had no doubt
Was it the work of demons, or monstrous hags
What kind of vicious, monstrous lout
Could have spilled all the coffee and torn the teabags?

Now excuse me while I mourn my hot beverages.

2008-06-01, 09:29 PM
Could I post here if I have no where else to post? (no website or anything like that)

Or should I start a thread?

2008-06-30, 12:51 AM
Here is my attempt at creative writing. Read it if you like Warcraft, and possibly H.P. Lovecraft.


HP Warcraft?

2008-06-30, 08:32 PM
here's some of mine. now, go ahead and get the groaning out of the way now--this is fanfic. forgotten realms specifically. the story (not counting the prologue) begins in menzoberranzan, about 20-40 years before the famous drizzt is born to the do'urdans.

Black Death--0--Prologue (http://stycotl.deviantart.com/art/Black-Death-1-89871432)

Black Death--1--Inception (http://stycotl.deviantart.com/art/Black-Death-1-5-89877449)

Black Death--2--Auspicious Introduction (http://stycotl.deviantart.com/art/Black-Death-2-89879369)

Black Death--3--First Foe (http://stycotl.deviantart.com/art/Black-Death-3-89882410)

Black Death--4--Breath of Life (http://stycotl.deviantart.com/art/Black-Death-4-89884839)

Black Death--5--If... (http://stycotl.deviantart.com/art/Black-Death-5-90171912)

Black Death--6--Bad Politics (http://stycotl.deviantart.com/art/Black-Death-6-90178794)

Black Death--7--Mindbender (http://stycotl.deviantart.com/art/Black-Death-7-90179461)

i welcome critique. eventually i would like to support myself with my writings and my illustrations, so the more help i get now, the better off i will be. gimme the good, the bad, and the ugly--and anything in between.

thanks, aaron out.

2008-07-04, 07:57 AM
I find writing difficult - I've done an odd chapter.

I find lyrics for a fanfic more satisfying. This is the one I did for my old Pern site:

Take note - there are 18 songs in this one - no music though - I can't write music and most of it is copyright.

2008-07-21, 12:56 PM
I wrote this (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=85397)just the other night for no reason. If i ever get good a writing i might put something longer up/

Mercenary Pen
2008-07-29, 02:22 PM
Just posted the prologue to a piece I'm writing using D&D 4th edition as my starting block, link is here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=4615524#post4615524)

Feel free to give me feedback on it, because I reckon that the prologue could be sharpened up a little.

2008-08-13, 09:34 AM
At my WoWWiki homepage I have written some pieces of Warcraft fanfiction. The Shadow Heritage is a multi-part story I've begun to write, the first part (the Death in Ice) is complete. My first Warcraft tale is a gloomy "what if" kind of story named This Clockwork Universe. Knowledge of Warcraft lore is useful for understanding my works. Please give me constructive criticism whenever you can come up with any. If any comic artist likes my stories... nah, that's too much to ask for, nevermind...

2008-08-16, 07:53 PM
Wrote this on top of page. Rest of the thread is just ad spam and site isn't too well known (forums haven't been active for weeks now), so if you want, viewers can post there and keep the forum alive.

2008-09-01, 03:26 PM
I made this for a play by post but is more of a storyhttp://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=89609

2008-09-09, 11:16 PM
Okay.. Ummm....


Yeah, that's utterly hilarious and it's about a cat. Or a crazy guy. You decide.

2008-09-10, 12:42 AM
Certainly creative..... Must be a CORPS rpg! lol

Okay.. Ummm....


Yeah, that's utterly hilarious and it's about a cat. Or a crazy guy. You decide.

2008-09-10, 12:49 AM
Feel free to respond in the thread to that. I plan on just dumping stuff there once in a while.

2008-09-13, 05:14 PM

The opening of a short story I thought up, if its any good let me know and I will post more.

2008-09-19, 05:33 AM
So here are some scripts I wrote while working nights. It's called D4 Heros +1 it's about five guys playing D&D.

it is becoming less about the game its self and more about what goes on around the table

please let me know what you think, you can read them here http://web.mac.com/scottslemons/iWeb/Site/D4%20Heroes%20+1.html
can't wait to find out what you all think

2008-09-19, 12:10 PM
Wrote a short epic:

Thragulfgarforthilk (:smallfurious: <--- [pic]) smash kill burn incinerate and squish. Sleep. Kill and crunch again. Sleep again. Win life. End.

Hope to win a Nobel Peace prize, but I'd settle for a Best Actor Oscar...

2008-10-18, 10:45 PM
Ive been writing for a while, have a few stories up (some edited and some not).

The first is here (http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1235656/Dorian_Whitewater). Ive got a few of em and this site knocks out the ESRB for me. (cuz im too lazy to post em here when that site does it for me). These are my fanfics, none of which I've completed yet. Just scroll to the bottom to find the list.

I am working on an original story located here (http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2356129/1/The_Grand_Altima_Saga). A warning, this is NOT edited, just cleaned up a bit with spell check. This story is rated T for language and sexual themes.

Check em out and let me know if you like em, or if they suck.:smalltongue:

2008-10-23, 04:02 AM
My take on anime's "magical girl" genre (http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2531454/1/Soul). Next chapter currently undergoing proof-reading. Comments and reviews always welcome.

2008-10-26, 07:33 PM
Check out http://kipper-story.webs.com. It is a compilation of my work, as well as that of a couple friends. Good stuff, guaranteed.

p.s. If my link above doesn't format well, it's because I'm new to these forums... don't kill me or hold anything against the site.

2008-10-30, 03:26 PM

2008-11-20, 12:10 PM

2008-12-08, 01:05 PM
Are you a writer? Or perhaps you are just starting out and need some feedback? Or maybe you just like to peruse other peoples' short (and not so short) stories. If so, you've come to the right place.

If you would like to showcase your creative writing, please provide a brief description and a link to your work (don't post your work directly in this thread). You may post your work on an external site (I will provide links in this post once people provide suggestions) or you may start a thread in this forum and provide a link to that.

Yeah, i think so.:smallsmile:

2008-12-23, 01:08 PM
a GitP collaborative 'ship-fic'ing project.
(more-or-less in story chronological order)

Redemption prequels

I Will Possess Your Heart (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4785405&postcount=1425) - RabbitHoleLost
Drafted Into the Army (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5579347&postcount=1167) - TwoBitWriter

Redemption saga

Epiphany (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5574679&postcount=1118) - RabbitHoleLost
Sacrifice (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5518855&postcount=756) - Happyturtle
A Favor Returned (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5523913&postcount=780) - Reinholdt
Offer (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5524385&postcount=786) - Happyturtle
Vitreous (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5527528&postcount=802) - RabbitHoleLost
A New Assignment (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5535119&postcount=880) - TwoBitWriter
Chains (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5527950&postcount=805) - Happyturtle
Watching (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5528592&postcount=807) - ghost warlock
Heart's Shadow (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5529824&postcount=821) - mangosta71
Long Distance Call (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5530815&postcount=857) - Destro_Yersul
Echoes Hanging (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5533316&postcount=865) - Helgraf
Promises (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5533911&postcount=867) - Reinholdt
Sins of the Past (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5549654&postcount=948) - Mordokai
Into the Dark (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5550986&postcount=954) - Happyturtle
War Council (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5552136&postcount=969) - Reinholdt
Falling Into Shackles (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5684005&postcount=118) - Lyinginbedmon
Within the Tower (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5552380&postcount=974) - deathslayer7
We Humble Players We (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5554708&postcount=982) - Coidzor
Messages (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5558703&postcount=997) - mangosta71
Banter (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5565813&postcount=1053) - Reinholdt
Mercy (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5565584&postcount=1045) - Happyturtle
Along the Crimson Hinges (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5566866&postcount=1061) - Helgraf
In the Vestibule (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5588200&postcount=1272) - Coidzor
Resonance (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5567967&postcount=1068) - ghost warlock
The Trap (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5568487&postcount=1072) - Reinholdt
An Unexpected Encounter (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5569263&postcount=1077) - TwoBitWriter
Prisoners (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5658753&postcount=1012) - Celtois
Scrying Pool (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5667376&postcount=1175) - Celtois
Bleeding Out... (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5583360&postcount=1231) - Helgraf
Off the Wall (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5576150&postcount=1137) - Destro Yersul
Parting Ways (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5577419&postcount=1144) - deathslayer7
Sowing Seeds of Chaos (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5578929&postcount=1162) - mangosta71
Ascension (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5580879&postcount=1211) - Destro Yersul
Searching for Trouble (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5582077&postcount=1212) - deathslayer7
Campfire in the night, burning in the evening light. (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5582152&postcount=1213) - Coidzor
These Eyes or A Different Angle (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5583558&postcount=1238) - Celtois
The ____ That Men Do (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5587003&postcount=1261) - Lyinginbedmon
True Monsters are Born (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5594569&postcount=1302) - Draken
Storyteller (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5607478&postcount=65) - happyturtle
Stealth Always Works Unless you get Caught (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5608019&postcount=72) - deathslayer7
The Middle Wheel (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5633728&postcount=373) - deathslayer7
Mommy? Is that you Hiding in the Shadows? (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5652331&postcount=836) - deathslayer7
An Eventful Night (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5658525&postcount=1004) - Wolfbane
Friends? (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5662630&postcount=1051) - deathslayer7
Helping a Stranger (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5674009&postcount=1319) - Fredthefighter
The Dam Breaks (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5648873&postcount=751) - Destro_Yersul
Wounds (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5650207&postcount=758) - happyturtle
Wyrding (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5651602&postcount=806) - Helgraf
Of Bugs and Kings (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5655999&postcount=911) - Draken
Let's be Bad Guys (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5656554&postcount=941) - Ganurath
Assassin's Creed (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5683774&postcount=104) - mangosta71
To Be Alone (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5684432&postcount=135) - deathslayer7
Divided We Stand, United They Fall (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5686495&postcount=172) - Draken
Prepared (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5726335&postcount=501) - deathslayer7
Shadowcraft (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5751858&postcount=702) - mangosta71
King of Terror (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5784773&postcount=965) - Draken
To Die For (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5808187&postcount=1169) - RabbitHoleLost
Circles (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5827348&postcount=1258) - Helgraf
Mistress of Suffering (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5902821&postcount=172) - Draken
We All Live... (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5910284&postcount=190) - Reinholdt
Duel (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5935901&postcount=303) - Mordokai
Hell's Highway (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5950321&postcount=355) - Destro_Yersul
What is Right is not Always the Easiest Thing to Do (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5951071&postcount=358) - deathslayer7
A Failure (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5972249&postcount=460) - TwoBitWriter
Regrouping (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5993278&postcount=536) - Reinholdt
Confrontation (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=6023585&postcount=595) - mangosta71
Marionettes (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=6033971&postcount=651) - Helgraf
Descent into Madness (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=6036171&postcount=658) - Destro_Yersul
Interlude: Magtok's March (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=6027213&postcount=605) - Draken
Reflections (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=6101586&postcount=816) - Reinholdt
Mag's Moment (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=6245282&postcount=1035) - Draken & Reinholdt
Endgame (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=6794000&postcount=127) - Helgraf & Reinholdt
Epilogue (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=6794015&postcount=128) - Destro_Yersul & Helgraf & Reinholdt

Redemption Aside - Experimental ships by Helgraf

Internalized (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=5838604&postcount=1281)

Cast of Characters
Mordokai-Fallen, off to war with Saint Nil.
Happy-Former servant of the DarkGods who was redeemed by Nil and Mordokai in happier days. Nearly lost her life and her own soul trying to redeem Mordokai.
Rabbit-Protecting Flora in Citadel. Loves Mordokai.
Flora-Hiding in Citadel. Horribly abused. Still loves Mordokai?
Reinholdt-Sworn to redeem Mordokai. Claims to understand Mordokai's position.
Jon-Tried to free Happy. Works for Rabbit. Brother of Mangosta.
Pickman-Nomadic, but tends to hang out in graveyards. Impartial regarding Mordokai's fall/redemption but would sacrifice himself to ensure Flora's safety.
Mangosta-Following Mordokai to war. Assassin in Mordokai's employ.
Destro-Lich caught in between Mordokai and St. Nil. Secretly helping Rabbit.
Helgraf-A mad spirit seer of sorts. He seems to want to help Mordokai be redeemed, but can he be trusted?
Saint Nil-Famous paladin and Mordokai's former ally and friend. Leader of forces opposing Mordokai in his war. Wants Mordokai redeemed, but will not risk innocents to do so.
Korith-A spy and assassin under the employ of Lord Magtok. Traveling in Saint Nil's army looking for a chance to eliminate Nil.
Lord Magtok-A longtime enemy of Saint Nil's who desires rulership of the country. Plans to take advantage of Nil's absence and the war between Nil and Mordokai to further his own goals.
Liriel-Pretty much just wants to survive. Under Destro's employ. Destro seems to have control over whether she keeps her heart in her chest quite literally, so it's doesn't appear to be voluntary employment.
Fred(the Fighter)-A soldier in the employ of Saint Nil. Good friends with Coidzor.
Coidzor-A soldier in the employ of Saint Nil. Good friends with Fred.
Cristo-Dark Cleric in employ of Mordokai. Fallen from a pure group who once opposed Mordokai.
Vael-A miracle worker who assisted in Rabbit's redemption.
Alexis-A paladin of the goddess of hope. Wants Mordokai redeemed.
Igon Minoblendy (aka Lyinginbedmon)-Powerful mage and ruler captured and held by Mordokai and Isaz.
Isaz-Devil. Secret consort of Mordokai. Trying to keep him on the fallen path.
Aspect of Draken Frosthand-A shard of an Evil of ancient times, known mainly for Nihilistic designs.
Raistlin-A wandering bard who claims neutrality and believes in no gods. Wants the war to be over.
Ganurath-Evil necromancer who wants Rabbit back on the dark side. Attempting to redeem Mordokai to accomplish this.
Yggdarsil-A physical manifestation of the uncorrupted world's will. It has very limited power on a small scale, but when it comes to large areas...
Nameless Bugman-One of the military advisors Draken left with Magtok.
Lady Mal-Summoned envoy of daemons and devils.
King Terror-A monstrous bug leader sent to attack Nil's army from the rear.

Redemption has come to an end. Read it!

Heavily precipitated by the DarkMoonRising Saga by Cristo Meyers.

Shanty Man
2008-12-26, 05:07 PM
Can you put any kind of story at all in hear?

2008-12-31, 06:12 PM
Ship Wars


Blue Umbrella as Topsy Kretts
Calamity as Calthreepio
Cobra_Ikari as Darth Cobra
Collin152 as Emperor Collpatine
CurlyKitGirl as Curly Jade
Dallas-Dakota as Greatgrandmoff DDarkin
Darkcomet as Darth Comet
Deathslayer7 as Liriel
Destro Yersul as half of Des Wintwo
Dihan as Artoodihan
Dr Bath as Bath Vader (formerly Sink Skywalker)
Draken as Himself
FF Fanboy as Fanboy Skywalker
Freshmeat as Fresho
Happyturtle as Happyturtle the Handmaiden
Haruki-kun as Haruki-Kun Kenobi
Jibar as Princess Catmuffin
Kaelaroth as Kaelaroth, a traitor and Alek
Lex-Kat as Lex-Kat the Pixie
Lord Fullbladder as Bladder the Hutt
Lyinginbedmon as Ly-Mon Jinn
Mauve Shirt as Mauve Skywalker
Midnight Son as Midnight Son, a war orphan
Moff Chumley as Grandmoff Chumley
Phase as Phase the Death Moon
Rabbit Hole Lost as Queen Padme Rabbitala
Raistlin1040 as Raistlin the musician
Randman22222 as Rando Calrissian
Reinholdt as Calublufiok
Rubakhin as Rubakha
Saint Nil as Master Saint Nil Yoda
Terraoblivion as Terra Oblivion, a war refugee
Thanatos5150 as Than Tolo
The Rose Dragon as The Rose Dragon, a war orphan
TheCountAlucard as Alu Fett
TwoBitWriter as half of Des Wintwo
Vespe Ratavo as Darth Vespe

Episode IV: A New Ship
Part 1 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4679925&postcount=871)
Part 2 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=4680498#post4680498)
Part 3 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=4683139#post4683139)
Part 4 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=4684258#post4684258)

Episode V: The Empire Ships Back
Part 1 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=4690212#post4690212)
Part 2 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=4702829#post4702829)
Part 3 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=4784505#post4784505)
Part 4 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=4889946#post4889946)
Part 5 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=5056314#post5056314)
Part 6 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=5595078#post5595078)
Part 7 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=5601919#post5601919)
Part 8 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=5609358#post5609358)

Echoes of the Past
Part 1 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=4688091#post4688091)
Part 2 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=4723904#post4723904)
Part 3 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4775696&postcount=1324)
Part 4 (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=5658221#post5658221)

The Ship Wars Theme Song! (http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=IX3sI0q5iMI)

thurge namor
2009-01-21, 08:25 PM
So i wrote this when the girl i liked (and thought like me) went out with my friend. I put some stuff from things shes written, and some stuff i wrote to her, in it. she will never get to read it, but...
only friends
Here I am again reciting
Evidence of something so far back
My heart’s been torn wide open
All its contents lost within the past

Three times asked
And three times refused
“I don’t know you well enough”
How long is enough?

How long will it take to win your heart
Or at least to get you to acknowledge your feelings?
Or are there feelings there at all?
Have you just been leading me on?

How long have we waited for a ship that never set sail?
And how much time have we wasted chasing love that was never there?

Why couldn’t you just tell me
That there would be nothing between us?
At least then I could begin to move on
How long is enough
Or is it just me that isn’t enough?

My hope crushed
My feelings hurt
I resign myself to my fate
With the knowledge that I was never enough
And we can only just be friends

If I said I didn’t care then I’d be making a mistake
And I can’t just ignore it, no there’s no other way
You’ll just never understand why it’s so hard for me to ask
You’ll just never know I try so hard to be your perfect match

The perfect guy for the perfect girl
Yet I’m not him
How can I ever speak to you
Knowing that my friend has what I can only wish for
How can I even have a chance
When you already have your happiness.

My mind screams in protest
But I cannot act,
For my happiness fulfilled
Means yours destroyed
And I can’t do that to you

So I’ll put on a happy mask
And perform my charade
And hope no one can see through my disguise
So we can still be friends
I’ll keep my emotions on the inside
And a grin on the outside
Knowing that we shall only ever be friends

This was something i wrote as sort of an anti suicide thingy... just kinda wrote it for no reason.
Tears of blood
“your eyes will forever haunt me. The joy in them when we were together. The fear in them when I had my wreck. The sorrow in them when you saw me with him. We were never meant to be together. At least, not for forever. This is good bye. I hope we never meet again, for your sake.”
By the time I finished reading the letter the paper was soaked with my tears. I loved her. I thought she loved me, but I was wrong. My hand went to my pocket and I pulled out a ring. I was going to propose to her today. Tears of sorrow streamed down my face. I went to the shelf and pulled out a photo album. I flipped through the pages, remembering the good times. There’s when we dressed in all black for Halloween and pretended to rob my mother’s house when she was still home. She tried to fend us off with her purse. I began to laugh.
Tears of joy replace those of sorrow.
I went to the computer and checked my email. There is the draft of that life changing email I was about to send.
“meet me at the park at 9. I have something I want to tell you.”
My hand went to my pocket and I pulled out a ring. I was going to propose to her today.
Tears of sorrow replace those of Joy
I stumble to my room, barely able to see because of my tears. I open the top drawer of my desk and shakily grab what it contains. Memories flash through my head. Memories of me and her. I thought my entire life was supposed to flash before my eyes when I was about to die… but I guess she was my life. I wasn’t alive before I met her, and now that she’s gone, my life has ended.
I raise the revolver to my temple and it all ends.
No more tears of sorrow flow down my face.
They have been replaced with tears of blood, the last tears I will ever cry.
Was she really worth all this?
I was going to propose today.
I loved her.
I thought she loved me.
She was my life.
Now she is my death
How could I live without her?
I’ll never find out if I could.
But at least all the pain is gone.

This one i wrote, just cause
anchor of memories

A man stumbles to the edge of a cliff, tears streaming down his face. He falls to his knees and screams a curse at his gods. He screams until his lungs give out. He collapses into himself and cries himself to sleep. Memories flash through his head as he sleeps. Him getting married. Having children. Them growing older. His son being drafted into the army. His daughter getting married. His first grandchild. Pride filled him. These were his favorite memories. These were the best times of his life, but life did not stay happy. A letter came in the mail. His son had died in the war. That was the first time he came to this cliff, fully intending to jump off. It was the thought of his daughter, wife and grandchild that kept him anchored to the ground. Life returned to its normal rhythm, and the pain of loss was dulled. One day a knock came at his door. He opened the door to find his daughter crying. His grandchild had run away. They searched the area for days before finding his body. His neck had been slit. The man and his wife tried to console their daughter, but it was no use. The daughter killed herself a week later. This was the second time he returned to the cliff. This time he got as far as standing on the before the memory of his wife pulled him back home. It took a lot longer for the pain to dull, and his life to return to normal. Yesterday he decided to travel into town to get supplies. He would spend the night there, and return in the morning. The sight that he returned to drove him to the cliff this last time. His house had been ransacked. His wife had been stabbed and left to die. He had nothing left. With this memory the man woke up. He had made his choice. He stood on the edge of the cliff and cursed the gods one last time. This time no memories were left to pull him home.

another just cause thingy
meaning in tragedy
I’ve spent my life searching for
Meaning in tragedy
But all I’ve found is a lesson to the joyful

I’ve spent my life searching for
Freedom in sorrow
But all I’ve found is a lesson to the free

I’ve spent my life searching for
love in death
But all I’ve found is a lesson to the living
A lesson to the loved

And my lesson is this:
Cherish what you have
For this too shall pass
And that which is yours is temporary

Regret is a word of the living
But those that chose not to life
Will never know what shall fill that space left by what was lost.
They will never know what they are leaving behind

Regret is a word of the living

another just cause thingy (are you seeing a trend yet?)
my mask
I’m looking out on the world through a mask
I’m hiding the guy who’s really me
And no one seems to notice
I’ve donned the perfect disguise
Touched up my rough edges
And cloaked my true intentions
The person you see isn’t me
The person you see is who I want you to see

I’m looking out on the world through eyes that aren’t mine
I’m covering my blemishes
And drawing on flourishes
And no one seems to care
This isn’t me
This isn’t what I would have done
This isn’t who I would have talked to
If I wasn’t hiding behind this mask.

I’m through
I’m done
My mask is coming off
My wall is being torn down
I’m tired of acting like I’m someone I’m not
I’m tired of this fake me
What you see is what you get
And what you see is the truth of me

My mask is finally off
I emerge from behind my wall
And find that my face has changed
My face isn’t who I was before I donned my mask
My face is my mask
I’ve hidden behind my mask for so long
I’ve become my mask
And that’s not something I wish to be.

What you see is what you get
And what you see is the truth
Only, I wish it wasn’t
I’ve spent too much time in the dark
Hiding from the world around me
Or maybe just not noticing it.
And now it’s time to come out.
I’ve hidden behind my mask for so long
I can’t remove it
I can never be free of it
I can never be myself again
Because the me that I was
Has become the me that I am
Though I wish it wasn’t true, It is
Kick down my wall
And tear off my mask
So I may truly be free
So I may finally by free
Of this burden of the me that isn’t me
I can’t do this alone.
Help me.

Killing Love
I had your love
I had your faith
And I threw it all away
I told you I would
And then I didn’t
I told you yes
When I really meant no
I had your love
Before I lied
And now I don’t
But that was the past

I never wanted to hurt you
I never wanted to make you cry
I never wanted to throw your love away
I didn’t know what I had
Until I’d lost it

Let’s play a game of killing love
And see how long it takes
To lose the faith of those we’re close
And destroy the love of those that love us
Now that we’ve won
We wish we hadn’t
Because in winning
We’ve lost the thing that made life worth living

please give constructive critisizm and ideas... i wish to improve as a writer

2009-01-23, 05:03 AM
Fantastic flights from everyday-life! Tales beyond your wildest imagination! Madness at every turn! A regularly updated blog with tidbits from an apocalyptic 1930's world. Nazis, zombies, criminals, black magic, human bio-weapons and the remnants of the British Empire are just some of the ingredients in this highly volatile and utterly absurd universe.


Stories from our Fudge-RPG. :)

2009-01-25, 01:56 PM
Blayze proudly presents

The Chronicles of Estra

An epic story that *will* be told, no matter how long it takes me or how many mediums I have to use.

Edit: And yes, I'm looking for an artist to draw this. :D

Warning: Contains violence, swearing and violent swearing.

Book I: The Rise of the Council (Unfinished)

Chapter I: The Battle of Meduna (http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2464420/1/The_Chronicles_of_Estra)
Chapter II: The Birth of Magic (http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2464420/2/The_Chronicles_of_Estra)

Book II: The Hero Tournament (Finished)

Chapter I: Imprisoned (http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2384409/1/Estra)
Chapter II: Waterborne (http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2384409/2/Estra)
Chapter III: Desperation (http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2384409/3/Estra)
Chapter IV: Tournament (http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2384409/4/Estra)
Chapter V: Futility (http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2384409/5/Estra)
Chapter VI: Confrontation (http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2384409/6/Estra)
Chapter VII: Mindscape (http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2384409/7/Estra)
Chapter VIII: Incursion (http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2384409/8/Estra)
Chapter IX: Catalyst (http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2384409/9/Estra)
Chapter X: Invasion (http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2384409/10/Estra)

Book III: The Rebellion of Men (Future project)

Book IV: The Fall of Giji (Unfinished)

Chapter I: The Return (http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2541638/1/The_Chronicles_of_Estra_The_Fall_of_Giji)

Book V: The Death of Magic (Future project)

Book VI: Elemental Team Alpha (Unfinished)

Prologue (http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2626196/1/The_Chronicles_of_Estra_Elemental_Team_Alpha)
Chapter I: Betrayal (http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2626196/2/The_Chronicles_of_Estra_Elemental_Team_Alpha)

2009-02-01, 04:25 AM
Reinholdt and Meow Shipping Inc. presents:


The currently novella length backstory he worked hard on and is quasi-proud of... has been taken down. No more.

2009-02-11, 05:48 PM
Adding my name to the list.

My site is at www.mistandshadows.com

It is a bit of a mixed bag, being partially a writing journal covering progress, what I've been working on, inspirations and the like, as well as other things of interest (mostly geek-related.)

Currently I have the rough drafts of three short stories on there (The Pit (http://mistandshadows.com/book-of-deeds/the-pit/), The Bronze Man (http://mistandshadows.com/book-of-deeds/the-bronze-man/), Cahuac and the Sun (http://mistandshadows.com/book-of-deeds/cahuac-and-the-sun/)), as well as an ongoing serial (Cara's Choice (http://mistandshadows.com/caras-choice/)) which I add to every week or two. Plus there is a list of other projects that I am working on.

2009-02-19, 12:30 AM
What the hey.

I've got a blog of poems and stories called 61 Trees (http://61trees.blogspot.com/). Sometimes I update it. There's a poetry binge right now, but there's also quite a few short stories to be seen if you dig just a bit.

Warning: language. Not much in the way of violence, but implied sexual content. Nothing that couldn't be shown at PG-13.

2009-02-20, 11:01 AM
I have produced a short story in Lovecraft's style for a friend of mine, please tell me what you think of it. And have mercy :smallsmile:


Rae Artemi
2009-02-23, 09:34 PM
The prologue and first 3 chapters of my story are here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=105492).

2009-04-02, 06:05 AM
I have two blogs that you will like to read


2009-04-03, 04:55 AM
My take on anime's "magical girl" genre (http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2531454/1/Soul). Next chapter currently undergoing proof-reading. Comments and reviews always welcome.

Some new chapters are up - and I moved to my own website. (http://www.sagaofsoul.com)

2009-04-04, 04:35 AM
As my sig suggests, I have decided to try writing a serial novel. You may find it here (http://chrisascended.livejournal.com/) (starting Monday, at least).

I'm aware LiveJournal is hardly the venue best suited for writing a novel, but I have my reasons. I may relocate later.

2009-04-04, 07:02 PM
Vatsy and Bruno: First Ink (http://www.chocolatehammer.org/?page_id=551) is now finished.

2009-06-04, 01:43 PM
You can find my serial webnovel here: Buono's Tale (http://www.saintmarksbody.com/buono)

Updates are 3 times a week, and so far I've been on schedule with 8 updates.

Buono's Tale is historical fiction set in Venice in the 9th century AD. While it's set in our "real" world I tend to write it in a fantasy style, its just that any "magic" that takes place has a perfectly rational explanation. Also no dwarves.

Enjoy and please leave comments!

2009-06-22, 11:03 PM
I was wondering if someone could recommend a free to join site where one might submit their writing?
I quit deviantArt a while ago because, to be honest, there are far too many people on there that i want to stab in the face with a fork, and i haven't submitted anything to elfwood in over a year because it takes that long to get anything passed by the moderators.

2009-06-26, 06:42 PM
@agamid: I've been wondering the same thing. I use webs.com and google sites for most of my non-writing stuff (my D&D group, etc.) but none have ways to allow comments on a normal page (i think, I'll check webs in a bit).

Anyway, currently my story (of which I have written only the prelude, but given that it's now summer...) is here (http://sites.google.com/site/darkbladestory/). I'm currently using google sites, the site needs an upgrade badly. No place to put comments, at the moment, so put them in this (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=6374073#post6374073) thread please.

2009-07-19, 01:28 AM
I wrote this story for school last year and put a lot of work into it, but I'm still not a very good writer. What would you guys think I should change to improve it?

A downloadable PDF (http://www.4shared.com/file/119085398/405dc7cf/The_Dark_Flame.html)

Mattarias, King.
2009-07-27, 11:07 PM
Haven't had much inspiration to write as of late, but this is something kinda recent.

Description: A god and his brother do battle.

Link: A Decisive Battle. (http://fuzakeru-oh.deviantart.com/art/EXCERPT-A-Decisive-Battle-120940188)

2009-07-28, 01:48 PM
Here's the first two chapters of my novel-in-progress, Rebellion in the Stars (http://docs.google.com/Edit?docid=dvx438h_1db7hjhdp). Incidentally, my avatar is based on the main character.

2009-07-28, 08:34 PM
The White Queen a Novel By K.L. Kiemele


Its a Fantasy Novel about a Lizardfolk who's trying to save his people from extinction. I think its good; I am obviously somewhat biased. My friends think its good too, but they're probably just being nice.

Updates Monday and Thursdays

Thanks for reading this far

Edit: Got a real url.

2009-08-04, 11:31 AM
This is a very short little piece I did. It was originally going to used in a D&D game, but then I realized D&D wasn't for a few hours so I wrote it out instead.

here you go (http://www.zombiemaster.org/smf/index.php?topic=8991.0)

2009-08-04, 08:12 PM
A short Story I wrote for the Blizzard Fiction Contest (http://www.atercia.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=7&t=1395)

An on going novel I've been writing. (http://www.atercia.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=7&t=490&start=0)

2009-11-02, 01:56 AM

Just a quick short-short story. It's kind of modern fantasy satire. It currently has recieved only positive reviews. I may make more, but it's kind of perfect as is.

2009-11-02, 02:22 AM
Check out my blog for some poems and stories.

2009-11-02, 08:27 AM
Just a little something I wrote.

Pain racked his whole body as he tried to crawl out from underneath the overturned carriage, which was in the process of sinking into the mud. The freezing torrent of rain helped numb his broken body but it did not make moving any easier and Lysander found himself going the way of the carriage and sinking further into the water soaked earth. The smell of copper filled his nose as he took note of the fact that rain was not the only thing soaking the ground he struggled against. Blood seeped into the soil, the blood of Knights, the blood of Sundian’s.
The blood of his friend’s.

Lysander lifted his head to witness the carnage that had befallen his band of twenty fellow Knights of Sunde through his one good eye, his left being caked in blood from a gash above his eyebrow,. A giant monster was attacking them but not in the manner of a ravening beast, but with an enormous blade. The monster stood on two legs, not unlike a man, towering over the shorter Knights, a full chest and head taller than the tallest of them. Scales covered the creatures body, akin to that of a lizards but when a sword blade manage to strike the body, it bounced off as though it had struck a wall of iron. A long tail whipped in and out of the fray; long, scaly and absolutely bulging with muscle as one unfortunate Knight discovered when the appendage smashed into his head. Lysander grimaced as he watch the Knight, his friend Gars, fall to the ground; his head cracked open like a ripe melon, blood and brain mixing into the soil.

The death of another friend only motivated Lysander more; little by little his legs began freeing themselves. The soft mud had prevented them from being crushed completely under the weight of the carriage, but he was moving too slowly. By the time he was free, the battle would be over and he alone would be left to face the beast. He would have no chance and the monster would be free to abscond with his prize. In the its large, clawed free hand it held the Lady Reeala. It was she whom Lysander and the rest of the Knights had been charged with protecting. She was the youngest child of one the most influential noble family’s in the kingdom and more importantly, a dear friend of his. He watched as Reeala reached out her hand to the attacking Knights, desperately trying to escape her captor. The creature turned it’s serpentine head to the attackers, opening its large maw, revealing large, dagger-like teeth.

Fire spewed from the dragon’s mouth, enveloping three of Lysander’s fellow Knights. He could only watch helplessly as more of his friend’s died, the flames melting their armor, clothes and skin, leaving only charred bones. He watched Reeala stare in horror at what the dragon had done to her escort, he wanted to turn her head away, press her face into his shoulder, let her cry her sorrows away but he could not. He was helpless. He was impotent to stop her pain.

He felt the dragon’s eyes upon and he could help but stare. He did not see the crazed madness he would’ve expected such a visage to have, no bloodlust, no hunger. All he felt as he looked into the golden orbs of the monster was a cruel intelligence. Lysander felt his blood boil, this was no random attack by a starving animal, this was an ambush with a purpose. His friend’s had died due to the machinations of the creature. Summoning the last of his strength, the young knight finally freed his legs. Ignoring the pain they were in, he picked up a fallen sword and charged the monster head on. With a unbelievable speed the monster lifted its leg and firmly kicked him in the chest.

He felt as if he had by struck by a flying log. The wind rushed out of his body and Lysander flew back, landing in the mud with his face to the sky, unable to keep his head from spinning. The dragon was upon him in seconds, its clawed foot slammed onto his left shoulder. Pain ran along the left side of his body as his bones cracked under the weight of the massive beast. Fighting the urge to black out, he swung his sword at the monsters leg. The blade bounced off uselessly, flying free from his hand as his grip finally failed. He looked up at the monster, expecting the end come swiftly and painfully.

“How foolish…”

Lysander’s eye flung from side to side, trying to locate the source of the voice.

“Look upward, mortal.”

Lysander looked up to meet the golden orbs of the dragon, his own widening at the realization that the beast could speak.

“Why? Why did you charge?” It asked. “I have slaughtered a score of your fellow warrior’s. You are injured, fatigued…you stood no chance…no hope…yet you still charged.”

“I won’t let you take her!” Lysander screamed. “On the blood of my friend’s! On my honor as a Knight of Sunde! I will not let you take Lady Reeala!”

A scream escaped his lips as the dragon pressed down on his injured shoulder.

“You are in no position to stop me, mortal…however…” The dragon paused, a look of amusement filling his eyes. “Your lack of fear has impressed me. I thus issue a challenge.”

Lysander breath in large amount of air as the monster removed his foot from his body and his lung was no longer compressed. He coughed and sputtered for a while before rising to his feet. He looked the dragon square in the eyes.

“I shall take your Lady, I will retreat to my lair. Upon the Summer Solstice, our contest will begin. You must find me. You must beat me in single combat. All within one year’s time, if you cannot, I will rip her head from her shoulders. What say you?”

“Lysander, NO!” cried Reeala. “You can’t beat him! Don’t risk your life for me!”

“Silence, worm!” The Dragon growled.

“Lysander, please. So many died this night, all to protect me. I would not be able to live with myself if I was the reason you died as well.”

“I accept.” Lysander said quietly.

Reeala’s eyes widened in fear and she reached out for him, tears streaming down her face. The dragon just laughed and kicked off into the air, a pair of enormous wings suddenly sprouting from his back.

“Let it be heard by the spirits of this place! This Sundian has accepted my challenge and so I am bound to its rules! Now, Lysander, Knight of Sunde, climb the spiral world, find me at its peak!”

Without warning, Lysanders head began to spin and he felt himself fall backwards into the mud. The only sound he heard as he sank into the ground was the dragon’s laughter.


Lysander shot up from his laying position in his bedroll, breathing heavily as sweat rolled down his body. It was that nightmare again.The cool morning air made him shiver as he stood up and walked over to the stream he and his traveling companion camped near. He splashed cold water in his face and let it run down his naked upper body. Groaning and rubbing the scar above his eyebrow he walked over to his camp and looked down at his partner. The Volkerian was sprawled awkwardly on the ground, his blanket only covering his chest.

Lysander sighed and poked his friend in with head with his booted foot.

“Hey, it’s dawn. Time to get up.”

2010-03-07, 12:45 AM
A little piece of work inspired by my players


2014-10-20, 09:58 PM
I write science fiction and fantasy, often a mixture of the two.

My first novel's free, at this link (https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B_GoF1zugvfWenFhSXZSUmRDbE0/edit?usp=sharing) and in my signature below. It can also be purchased on Amazon and a few other places, under the title Chains of Loss (amazon.com/Chains-Loss-Heros-ebook/dp/B0092YZM94).

The Blurb:

He spent yesterday collecting space debris to sell.

He woke up this morning crashed on an Earth that shouldn't exist.

He has no idea how he got there, what he's doing, or what the bloodthirsty orcs who are screaming for his death are saying.

He's a prophet's pawn, a potential savior, an average guy cyborg of a 35th-century stellar colony.

He's Derek, and he really wants to know what's going on.

Targ Collective
2014-11-02, 07:11 PM
Hm. Warning: Adult Themes.

The Succubus's Ring, on fanfiction.com.

Looking for a D&D versed adviser to help get past a few plot difficulties.