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Thread: D&D Snippets

  1. - Top - End - #151
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    Griffon

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    Default Re: D&D Snippets

    Yeah, but it was a perfect set-up to quote my favorite IC news report from our local LARP. How could I resist?
    Our Shadowrun game is pretty much one long string of bad ideas, fueled by enthusiasm.

  2. - Top - End - #152
    Dwarf in the Playground
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets

    First: was it just me at 2 A.M., or did Worlok have a story up that went missing?

    Pisha: nice! And here's one instance where slow, slow description works extremely well, and helps describe the character - a slow, but careful thinker, and someone who has to pay attention to himself a lot of the time, or his nature gets the best of him.

    I also like very much how you handled the bloodlust stirring. Boredom is a very correct and common emotion when dealing with long-term issues, but not many people recognize it in writing.

    And I second Lady Moreta on the first paragraph thing. Well done.

    Lady Moreta: Thank you. :) I'll be writing about Bashira soon again, since we had a game recently. And our DM's good - he actually got through her nonchalantness for once. And taught us all a lesson on the fact that "kick in the door" doesn't always work out well in city adventure... Having to go clean up wraiths that got created as the result of a joke that was meant to be harmless was a real kick in the face. :)

    As for thinking on your feet - I'm not a genius at this either, really. My players usually get the drop on me when I'm DM-ing, and when playing I often miss moments of golden opportunity. I guess that's one of the reasons I like writing, too. :) The upside is - the more you write, the more reactions you actually have to think of, the more your own repertoire widens!

    I'll re-read the succubus thing, because I actually thought that in that case it was a feature, not a bug. She was confused, nearly charmed, restless, and all. But I'll re-read tonight.

    As for the cheeky grin - yeah, you're absolutely right. :) I kind of forgot about that one, sorry.

    Now, as for "Growing pains" - great! Seriously, I like it, and I like it a lot. Some exposition pieces do work out better from an outsider's head, and this one is it. You get the motherly tone across well, without her being smothering.

    As for my own - well, let there be a WoD piece. then. The characters are both Kiasyd, Sire and Childe (vampire and vampire progeny), and, as such, have a slight problem with fitting into human society because of their unusual looks (they all look pretty much like that: http://th01.deviantart.com/fs9/300W/..._by_wycked.jpg). So they deal.

    Of Basic Necessities in the 21st Century
    or
    The reason to get a "Face-painting" skill on you character sheet
    Spoiler
    Show
    The face looking out from the mirror at me - unblinking gaze, frown - can't be mistaken for human. Even if the gauntness is explained away by diet - though that would have to be a killer way to lose weight, - you don't get that luminescent white with any kind of cosmetics, and there are no black contact lenses that conceal the whites of the eye. And there are no age marks - not even one line.

    I sigh miserably. There *has* to be another way of doing this. Like staying out of the spotlight, maybe. Or not interacting with humans outside of dark alleys and the Internet. Until I learn to conceal my nature.

    "Come now." Roderick speaks up softly from his armchair in the corner. "Concealing one's true nature is not that hard. Remember: people like to be fooled, and sometimes it is for the best that they see not a lie, but an illusion."

    "Easy for you to say!" I turn to my Sire only to find that ironic smile on his face. "You've a different method!"

    "You know," He says thoughtfully, "I think I've figured out the reason you are in such a stupor relative to Obfuscate."

    "Oh?" I am hopeful. Even though Obfuscate does not run naturally through our veins, it is a Discipline most Kiasyd know well, at least to its third manifestation. And it is one of the first Displines my Sire attempted to teach me. However, there was something distinctly wrong with me and this Discipline. Even though I could feel the power rushing through my veins when Roderick showed me, no matter how much I tried, I could not summon it myself. All of my occult training in life - which helped me so much with the other Disciplines - seemed to disappear when I dealt with this peculiar art.

    "You are supposed to learn that which any civilized person knows. Your polite nature protests against your conscious choices." He suggests coolly.

    "This is the twenty-first century, not the sixteenth." I retort. "Civilization is no longer measured by the ability to paint faces!"

    "No, but like in the old days, your ability to survive is."

    Of course, Roderick is absolutely right, and I am merely stalling. I look down at the bottles and little boxes that crowd with hostility before the mirror. Then I reach and pick up the smallest brush out of the five that are laid out before me. Then I turn back to the older Kiasyd again. "How much time do we have?"

    "Two hours."

    I shake my head. "I'm not sure I'll be able to produce anything convincing in two hours."

    "Still, you are not one to pass up the opportunity to learn, are you?"

    "Of course not, Sire." I answer with the utmost seriousness. "However, I am afraid that you shall learn more than I."

    "Oh?"

    "Of the boundaries of human and inhuman ineptitude and their true reach."

    He waves a hand dismissively. "I have known since I was mortal that there are no such boundaries. Go on."

    My fate dependent on my cosmetics. I never thought I'd sink this low.

    An hour and a half later, Roderick - who had been reading some sort of fiction - looks up and says, "Looks like you really did not pick up any skill in this while you were alive, Morgana. You were a historian of art. How did you manage?"

    "By the power of my wit alone." I grumble, erasing the tonal cream from my skin for the tenth time. My face looks like it was used as a palette. In essence, it was, but that's not the result I was aiming for. "I was a scholar, not an artist."

    My Sire sighs and puts his book away. "This one time, I shall rescue you. But for the sake of our security, you shall spend each night at this under my guidance, until you learn."

    "The horror." I say tiredly. "It may have gone easier if you had given me a few pointers before setting me to this vile task."

    "Possibly, but it wouldn't have been half so interesting." He replies, as he sits down next to me. "Now, please relax. We don't have much time and I haven't practiced in about a hundred years."
    There are thousands of good reasons magic doesn't rule the world. They're called mages. - Slightly misquoted Pratchett

  3. - Top - End - #153
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    BarbarianGuy

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    Default Re: D&D Snippets

    first.....

    I am constantly amazed by the lyrical prowess of all of yall /gush....


    second....
    -caves-
    I will write up the death of valek...

    as soon as I get home from college, (sometime later today)

    until then, keep up the awesome stories everybody!

  4. - Top - End - #154
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    Quote Originally Posted by Lady Moreta View Post
    Typo?
    Ooooh yeah... That's bad one.
    At least it rhymes with the correct word...

    Quote Originally Posted by Lady Moreta View Post
    I will admit, this bit - namely the 'keen' doesn't really make sense to me. Perhaps because the first thing it makes me think of is the idea of making a weapon keen to deal extra damage. But I'm not sure what you're trying to signify with it. The sound the blades made moving through the air? The fact that all Varen could think about was that the blades were keen and going to kill him? The writing is good, but I am not sure this was quite the right descriptive word to use here.
    I would definitely have to agree with this one. It was supposed to be a sound effect, but I can definitely see what you mean. Even while writing it, it seemed kind of off, and you seem to have pinpointed it right there.

    Now to just find a suitable replacement...

    As for your story, I really enjoyed it! I loved how it was told from the mother's perspective, and I thought it gave a really interesting look into Lirrin's personality and background. I can't see how you could think that it wasn't great!

    Quote Originally Posted by Werekat View Post
    Pluses: does shed the light on your backstory, articulate, very appropriately horrific. A nice contrast between the serenity of the initial scene and the horror of what happened next. Serenity's hard, but you have it down in a few strokes, and that's good.
    To me, that opening scene felt incredibly difficult to write, but it's great to hear that it went over well!

    Quote Originally Posted by Werekat View Post
    I hope you don't mind the extensive criticism - if you do (if anyone does, really), I'll keep quiet about stuff like that from now on. It's still an interesting read - I, too, have a soft spot (read: love-hate relationship) with paladins, and I really want to see where Varen goes from there, but right now it's a mish-mash of styles. And it's hard to keep quiet about it because I've already seen you do better.
    Your criticism is excellent, so the more extensive the better! I really appreciate every piece of advice you've given me, and will try to incorporate it as best I can.

    You really nailed the biggest problem I have with my writing with "mish-mash of styles" thing there, and I agree that in this work of mine it's especially prominent. I’ll definitely work on rewriting this one.

    As for your story, I loved it, as usual. You really got me interested in your character, especially her personal history. I've never played WoD, and honestly don't know anything about it, but just reading your story really got me interested in it.


    Pisha: That was simply amazing. Honestly, that’s probably one of my favorite snippets I’ve read so far. Keep up the good work!

  5. - Top - End - #155
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    AssassinGuy

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    Wow. These things are simply amazing.

    I haven't written much of anything in a couple years but this thread inspired me to try again. Here's a short one. Sorry if it's not exciting enough.

    By The Dying Fire
    Spoiler
    Show

    It had only been a couple of hours but each minute seemed to drone on and on. As I watched over the others, I rubbed my hands along my arms to keep either one from going numb in the cold. Even if the snow couldn’t get down there, the cold most certainly did. Just a couple more hours and I'd be able to rest in one of those warm bedrolls and stare at the inside of my eyelids for the rest of the night.

    A bit sick of looking at everyone else in their warm beds, I softly sighed and looked back up at the dirk. It was still sitting there, jammed in the cave wall, just as we had found it. With any luck, one of those spells in Jasper’s thick tome would be able to remove it. If not, it wouldn't be a huge loss. I could always replace my rusted dagger back in town, especially with the money that the viceroy had promised. Still, it seemed like everyone else had claimed a bit of loot back in the ziggurat. Even Roma had been given that wand and she was…was… damn.

    Right on cue, Roma jolted out of her uneasy sleep, giving a small shout before getting a hold of herself and looking around. Just as always, I put on my most diplomatic smile and put a single finger to my mouth as she looked in his direction. Instead of going back to bed like always, though, the human kept looking around the cave with a wierd expression on her face. She looked a bit spooked. Well, more spooked than usual.

    When the human calmed down a bit, she slowly squirmed out of her bedroll and walked over, towering above me as I sat there. It's not that she's shorter than me when I stand but... you normally don't notice such things. In my old caravan, you only even met with large folk when the two of you have some sort of work that needed doing. Right then, down in that cave, there was nothing to keep my mind on, nothing that had to be done. For one of the first times ever, I really felt... small. Strange as it may sound, I felt a bit relieved when she finally sat down.

    The two of us sat in silence for awhile, just staring into the last glowing embers of the fire. “Are you gonna take your shift early, then?” I asked at last, staring directly at a dying ember. No response. Peeking to one site, Roma was still staring directly into the fire... or at least towards it. I couldn't even tell if the huan had heard me. Roma... didn't seem to understand people sometimes. Broff had told us once that she had been wounded when he first found her a few years ago. In my humble opinion, not much had changed since then.

    When I turned to face her and repeat the question, I could see that her cheeks were red. Did she have some sort of cold or... something glimmered softly on her cheek. She was... crying? I was kind of at a loss here. I had dealt with her night terrors. I had worked around her bad hearing. I had even managed to keep most of her delusions from getting in our way. Crying, however, was new. What on Urth did it mean when somebody like Roma started crying?

    It was Roma who finally broke the silence, asking, “What are you doing up, Flouzer?” No response to my question, then. Well, at least she was speaking.

    For a second or two, I considered telling her the truth; reminding her that I had always taken the first night shift. In the end, though, it just wasn't worth the effort. Instead, I pointed back at the dirk in the wall and joked, “I’m guarding the dagger.”

    Roma looked at the dirk for a few moments, seeming to take my joke at face value. Then again, maybe she understood the joke but didn’t find it funny. Whatever the case, we fell back into silence for a few more minutes.

    “Should I put some more wood on the fire?” she finally asked. Like most of Roma’s behavior, I found it troubling that she hadn’t noticed the lack of wood in the cave. Was she suggesting that we go out into the snow and search? It was a cold night to be sure but the others would hardly freeze to death in those warm bedrolls… probably. Wait. Was Roma trying to make a joke of her own? Her tone remained as flat and emotionless as ever and her expression was hard to read.

    “The cold isn’t that bad,” I lied, giving her what I hope was a warm smile, “so I suggest we let the flame die an honorable death.”

    The silence returned and I was left to wonder once more if I'd even been heard. In the depths of this silence, I began to wonder why I was even standing guard. Nobody knew where we were. Nobody had any reason to follow us. Broff had searched the cave for tracks and found nothing at all. There weren’t any savages living out there and certainly weren’t any caravans. Jasper had even hidden the cave’s mouth behind an illusion. There was only one real reason that anyone might have been looking for this cave. I turned to face the dirk and could almost here Jasper’s nasally voice. “Don’t touch that, Flouz.” “It seems to be magical, Flouz.” “I’ll remove it in the morning, Flouz.” Even after a month of tutoring, Jasper still wouldn’t let me try the simplest of tricks. It was tempting to just steal the old goat’s spellbook and try casting the spell myself. Then again, there was not telling as to how Roma would react.

    I was distracted from my thoughts as a soft, warbling moan found it’s way out of Roma’s throat. As she rose one sleeved arm to wipe away her tears, I gave her another small smile and a couple light pats on the back. It was all that I could think to do. Maybe Broff would know what to do if he had been awake but I wasn't much of a people person.

    Roma managed to calm down a bit and asked yet another question, her voice a bit choked this time, “My… my wand makes light… so… can I use that?”

    After slowly absorbing what she had just said, I slowly nodded towards her and replied, “That… sounds nice.”

    Roma drew a small wooden stick from out of her robe and muttered a single word under her breath. With that, the entire stick glowed as brightly as the fire once had. To my credit, I did not chose to question this. I didn’t question when or how she’d learned how to use the wand. I didn’t question why she had slept with it inside of her robe. I didn’t even bother questioning why she hadn’t handed over her wand to begin with. Roma was just… Roma. After a certain point, you learned to adjust and stop asking questions. At the moment, I was just glad for the bit of light and heat. Though only half as warm as the fire had once been, I was still far warmer than I had been when Roma had first awoken.

    “I had a new dream tonight,” said Roma. A new nightmare, she probably meant. Well, she wasn’t the only one. I had my own share of nighttime horrors to haunt my. Unlike Roma, I could rarely even fall asleep anymore; maybe once or twice a week. Still, if this was about what I suspected it might be, Roma probably needed someone to talk to her. For her, choosing the one friend unable to banish his own demons must’ve seemed perfectly natural.

    “Was it about Broff?”

    Another small moan escaped Roma’s throat as she nodded, turning to truly face me for the first time that night. I turned to her in turn, looking her directly in the eye. I had to make this clear to her. “Stop beating yourself up over that, Roma. None of us knew about that pit and things would’ve been far worse if you’d jumped after him like you wanted to. You saved Jasper’s life and my own more times that day than I can count and we made in time for you to save Broff’s life as well. Hells, you fed the man healing potions until he heaved. Besides, we both heard what Jasper said. A good healer could regrow his arm and leg without breaking a sweat. You didn’t do anything wrong, Roma. You didn’t do anything wrong” As I looked into her eyes, I could swear that I could see comprehension in her gaze. Suddenly, tears started welling anew in her eyes as Roma grabbed me off the ground and held him in a tight embrace, finally crying in earnest on my shoulder.

    “Can… I… guard that dagger… with you... tonight?” muttered Roma between sobs.

    “That… sounds nice.”


    Story behind the story:
    Spoiler
    Show
    It was an old group I was in, playing via AIM. At one point, we were spending the night in an old burrow and the DM thought it was an excellent time to get some player RP in. Most people kept going until late and then the group went to bed (both IC and OOC) but me and Roma's player were still up so we kept going.
    The original transcript had quite a bit more talking and I took a bit of artistic license but I kept the skeleton of what ended up happening.

    Oh, and the dirk was a +1 Wounding Punching Dagger. Flouzer left that cave a very happy halfling.


    So... um, there you go.
    Last edited by Realms of Chaos; 2010-10-09 at 10:35 AM.
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  6. - Top - End - #156
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    BardGirl

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    Default Re: D&D Snippets

    Quote Originally Posted by Werekat View Post
    I'll re-read the succubus thing, because I actually thought that in that case it was a feature, not a bug. She was confused, nearly charmed, restless, and all. But I'll re-read tonight.
    I'll happily claim it was meant to be that way, but it actually wasn't deliberate.

    Quote Originally Posted by Werekat View Post
    Now, as for "Growing pains" - great! Seriously, I like it, and I like it a lot. Some exposition pieces do work out better from an outsider's head, and this one is it. You get the motherly tone across well, without her being smothering.
    I shall bow to those who liked it then, thanks I'll reread it myself and will probably find that I don't mind it so much. I wrote it while very tired, and I'm always harsher on myself when I'm tired.

    Quote Originally Posted by Werekat View Post

    Of Basic Necessities in the 21st Century
    or
    The reason to get a "Face-painting" skill on you character sheet
    I enjoyed this. I like vampire stories It was another one of these homely pieces we all seem so fond of at the moment. I like Roderick's attitude, you can tell he cares about her and about making sure she hides her features. He reminds me a little bit of Belgarath in the David Eddings' books. He's described as being first and foremost a teacher, but he's not above letting people make their own mistakes in the process. Roderick seems like a real teacher, in that he steps in at the end to help, but he's first going to let her struggle through on her own to try and get her to learn.

    Have to admit, I had no idea makeup could be such a problem!

    Quote Originally Posted by big teej View Post
    second....
    -caves-
    I will write up the death of valek...
    Wooo! Yay, can't wait!

    Quote Originally Posted by Realms of Chaos View Post
    I haven't written much of anything in a couple years but this thread inspired me to try again. Here's a short one. Sorry if it's not exciting enough.
    Yes, because Growing Pains was so very exciting Seriously, it's entirely up to you what you want to write - exciting or otherwise.

    (Also, I noticed when I quoted your post, you've indented the heading instead of just centering it. You can just click on the 'centre' icon and it'll centre it for you.)

    Okay, first impressions of your snippet - I like the idea of the story. The way that Flouzer is a little exasperated with Roma, but at the same time, I get the feeling that he's probably more patient with her and understands her better than the others because of his own past.


    Quote Originally Posted by Realms of Chaos View Post
    Even a couple of hours staring at the insides of his eyelids was more than worth resting in one of those warm bedrolls.
    I do have to say though, this sentence doesn't make much sense. You've already given us to understand that it was cold, so why on earth would simply closing his eyes be worth more than snuggling up in a bedroll? It's entirely possible that Flouzer has his own reasons for that (and I imagine that he does), but in a case like this, I think an extra sentence saying why would have helped.


    Quote Originally Posted by Realms of Chaos View Post
    Even Roma was given that wand and she was…was… damn.
    Also, grammatically speaking, this would read better if it was "Even Roma had been given that wand. Both are past tense, but 'was' doesn't really fit.

    For sheer ease of reading, may I suggest that each time a person speaks, you start a new paragraph? I believe it's technically a grammatical rule, but Werekat might know better. Changing the colours helped, but it would be much easier to read if you simply started a new paragraph.

    One last thing (promise!) - you keep switching point of view - one paragraph is told from Flouzer's view, then the very next one is Roma. I gotta admit, it makes the reading of it a bit jarring. You'd be better off sticking with one point of view - imagine that the 3rd person narrator is hovering over one of the characters and write only what they see and think. If you want to get into someone else's head, write another snippet from their persepective. This is the exact same thing I did at the start of my novelisation of our game - I keep switching between Tanc and Silver - it gets a bit wearing on the reader.

    Perhaps try writing in first person - I find it harder to do, but it's a great way of ensuring you stick to just one person's viewpoint. You can go back over it and make sure that there's nothing in there that the character couldn't see or wouldn't know. Makes it much easier

    I did enjoy it though. I liked the way Flouzer was keeping watch even though he didn't need to and how he rationalised it.

  7. - Top - End - #157
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    AssassinGuy

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    Quote Originally Posted by Lady Moreta View Post
    Yes, because Growing Pains was so very exciting Seriously, it's entirely up to you what you want to write - exciting or otherwise.
    Yay! I can write stuffs.

    Quote Originally Posted by Lady Moreta View Post
    (Also, I noticed when I quoted your post, you've indented the heading instead of just centering it. You can just click on the 'centre' icon and it'll centre it for you.)
    I... honestly didn't see the button.
    I looked for it briefly, somehow missed it, and went with indentation instead.

    Quote Originally Posted by Lady Moreta View Post
    Okay, first impressions of your snippet - I like the idea of the story. The way that Flouzer is a little exasperated with Roma, but at the same time, I get the feeling that he's probably more patient with her and understands her better than the others because of his own past.
    Pretty much. Glad I got that across.


    Quote Originally Posted by Lady Moreta View Post
    I do have to say though, this sentence doesn't make much sense. You've already given us to understand that it was cold, so why on earth would simply closing his eyes be worth more than snuggling up in a bedroll? It's entirely possible that Flouzer has his own reasons for that (and I imagine that he does), but in a case like this, I think an extra sentence saying why would have helped.
    Oh, that.
    Looking over the sentence, I realize now that I wrote it totally backwards. He wants the warm bedroll (because it is cold) and it willing to pay for it with a couple hours of just staring inside his eyelids (because of his insomniac... and because "sleeping" is his only real excuse to stop his shift). I redid the sentence and tried to clarify it up a bit.

    Better?

    Quote Originally Posted by Lady Moreta View Post
    Also, grammatically speaking, this would read better if it was "Even Roma had been given that wand. Both are past tense, but 'was' doesn't really fit.
    Fixed.

    Quote Originally Posted by Lady Moreta View Post
    For sheer ease of reading, may I suggest that each time a person speaks, you start a new paragraph? I believe it's technically a grammatical rule, but Werekat might know better. Changing the colours helped, but it would be much easier to read if you simply started a new paragraph.
    I did not know about this grammar rule before (and there are probably many other rules that I don't know). Changed.

    Quote Originally Posted by Lady Moreta View Post
    One last thing (promise!) - you keep switching point of view - one paragraph is told from Flouzer's view, then the very next one is Roma. I gotta admit, it makes the reading of it a bit jarring. You'd be better off sticking with one point of view - imagine that the 3rd person narrator is hovering over one of the characters and write only what they see and think. If you want to get into someone else's head, write another snippet from their persepective. This is the exact same thing I did at the start of my novelisation of our game - I keep switching between Tanc and Silver - it gets a bit wearing on the reader.

    Perhaps try writing in first person - I find it harder to do, but it's a great way of ensuring you stick to just one person's viewpoint. You can go back over it and make sure that there's nothing in there that the character couldn't see or wouldn't know. Makes it much easier
    First person difficult? Heh.
    90% of the stuff that I've ever written has been either 1st person or 3rd person but locked into one person's mind.
    I somehow got the idea in my head that I've been limiting myself in some way so when I was revising this, I tried getting both sides of the story. I could see how it would be wearing, though, and am glad that I was doing things properly to start with as I found THIS to be extremely difficult.

    Quote Originally Posted by Lady Moreta View Post
    I did enjoy it though. I liked the way Flouzer was keeping watch even though he didn't need to and how he rationalised it.
    I'm glad that you managed to enjoy this story in spite of its glaring flaws.

    Thank you very much for that quick analysis. I've always wanted to be a better writer so something like this thread is something of a godsend for me. I am in your debt, good woman.

    Edit: Now for a rewrite into the 1st person. In progress. Finished? Probably worse than the original, though. GAH!
    Last edited by Realms of Chaos; 2010-10-09 at 01:24 AM.
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  8. - Top - End - #158
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    Quote Originally Posted by Machuchang View Post
    You really nailed the biggest problem I have with my writing with "mish-mash of styles" thing there, and I agree that in this work of mine it's especially prominent. I’ll definitely work on rewriting this one.

    As for your story, I loved it, as usual.:smallbiggrin: You really got me interested in your character, especially her personal history. I've never played WoD, and honestly don't know anything about it, but just reading your story really got me interested in it.
    Hey, glad to be of service. :)

    As for Morgana... That was one of those campaigns you go "Oooh" about when remembering gaming stories for the rest of your days. I started with her when I was 15, and she's stayed with me through a number of stories and storytellers since then. Her story's pretty much impossible for the canonical world - we started play with only one rulebook, only slowly accruing bits and pieces of info from the Internet, and thus had all sorts of crazy stuff no sane DM who had any knowledge and/or respect for the world would ever allow, but is fun nonetheless. So, WoD ST's and players, take warning - some crazy stuff under the cut.

    Spoiler
    Show

    Long story short, there once was a sickly girl with not much of a social life, but with one hell of a sharp tongue, and an academic record to boot (a historian of art, specializing in baroque art, and an antiques expert). And with an ancestor who had been a druid sometime in the 10th century, one of those who refused to give up when the whole druid corporation dissolved after losing one too many fights to Christian mages. Said ancestor made a deal with the fae: they let him stay in their "hills," gaining effective immortality (he cannot leave them, however - crumble to dust and all, since so much time has passed) and watch his relatives from afar, to teach any magically-apt children the family may have, and he protects the fae with his magic.

    So said girl grows up, learns that she has an aptitude for visions and for talking to spirits, is on her way to earning a PhD at 23, when one fine night she wakes up dead. Undeath cut most of her sarcasm and arrogance pretty quickly, and had her face some of her own morals (she subscribed to 10th century ones... In theory. It took her awhile to accept the practice). It also pushed her towards a goddess she avoided while alive - basically, she had Lugh as a patron before dying, but becoming undead led her to the Morrigan, goddess of prophecy and war. So she learned to hold her own in a firefight (first character I ever statted up with no combat proficiency whatsoever initially), learned to go up to more powerful vampires and tell them the truth to their faces (and somehow didn't die for it), and generally lived by "I do now what must be done now."

    Then there was crazy stuff like the party being buffed up and used as cannon fodder to hold off an essential demigod (for all of ten minutes) while vampire mages sealed it off. Then there was more personal crazy stuff like being brought back to human life through some powerful magic, refusing to run from interacting with the vampires (because if you don't deal with the darker sides of life, then who will?) living as a human advisor on magic (and self-appointed half-broken moral compass) to the local vampire rulers for three years, and finally being Embraced (made into a vampire) again while enemy necromancers were trying to rip her soul from her body - the only measure her new Sire could take at that point, really.

    And then the campaign ended, because the ST was no longer up to running it for a number of reasons. :( I kept her around in other games, though, sometimes with a modified backstory, and sometimes not: way too much fun.


    Realms of Chaos: fun! It's an interesting look into someone perceiving an obviously peculiar character. Roma comes across as creepy, and convincingly mentally ill (through whatever reason - too many enchantments that can wreak horror with your mind in D&D), but your halfling wouldn't admit that, he's too brave. :)

    But a lot of stuff that needs correcting. The two most glaring errors:

    Quote Originally Posted by Realms of Chaos View Post
    It had only been a couple of hours but each minute seemed to drone on for hours.
    I'm thinking the double "hours" is a leftover from editing. This happens. :)

    Quote Originally Posted by Realms of Chaos View Post
    Right on queue
    "Queue" is a line, as in one you stand in. "Cue" is what you're looking for here.

    Quote Originally Posted by Lady Moreta View Post
    I enjoyed this. I like vampire stories :smallsmile: It was another one of these homely pieces we all seem so fond of at the moment. I like Roderick's attitude, you can tell he cares about her and about making sure she hides her features. He reminds me a little bit of Belgarath in the David Eddings' books. He's described as being first and foremost a teacher, but he's not above letting people make their own mistakes in the process. Roderick seems like a real teacher, in that he steps in at the end to help, but he's first going to let her struggle through on her own to try and get her to learn.
    Thanks. :) More spoilers for craziness:

    Spoiler
    Show
    Roderick's an NPC from that game whom I've adopted. I write quite a lot about him, albeit in Russian. The man's polite, smart, caring, and as crazy as only someone with a second Fae personality can be (yeah, more of the crazy stuff no DM would allow). Because the Fae in WoD essentially live in the imagination and live according to story rules, he also believes in narrative causality, and one of his ideas for survival is having "plot armor" (if he only phrases it like that in the latter half of the twentieth century). It generally works, much to the surprise of other vampires.

    I've never played him - I can't react like that. He's one of the most difficult characters for me to write, ever - he keeps doing stuff that throws me, as a writer, for a total loop, and that I have to take days on to figure out how to resolve. And he's got a crazy sensory perception that's near impossible to write, because he essentially perceives in purple prose, (supposedly) stopping short of it being horrible, or, conversely, going into the "So bad it's good" territory.


    Quote Originally Posted by Lady Moreta View Post
    I believe it's technically a grammatical rule, but Werekat might know better.
    Errr. I think so, yes. You can have a short bit of description before or after the spoken line, and a bit inside a dialogue ("I agree," he said, "we should attack at dawn.") But if there's more than a short sentence - new paragraph.
    There are thousands of good reasons magic doesn't rule the world. They're called mages. - Slightly misquoted Pratchett

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    Fixed and Fixed.
    I always confuse my cues/queues for some reason. Odd.

    Edit: Good lord. I just remembered an excellent story from the same campaign. Coming Soon:

    Broff and the "Stupod"
    or
    At least it wasn't a gazebo!
    Last edited by Realms of Chaos; 2010-10-09 at 10:46 AM.
    I'm try not to be too vain but this was too perfect not to sig.
    Quote Originally Posted by Primal Fury View Post
    okay RoC, that is enough! the gitp boards can only take so much awsome, you might actually hurt somebody with this one!
    At long last, I have an extended signature

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    It is in shame that I type this here words, for expectations may with this be disappointed: I have been going through my remaining notes on the campaign I detailed before. And while I do remember some overall things and minor concepts, such as the one alluded to in my recent post in ''What scares you in a tabletop'', none of the surviving material makes for any good stories whatsoever (Thrice-accursed water leaks!). In a way, you could say that I lack the crunch of my fluff. As some of you may have noticed, I had at one time put up a snippet already, which was about the most that could be done, but I removed it again seeing how it was a rather random and confusing scene which I can not properly explain anymore. So I beg you to forgive me and keep up the good work. I'm sorry.

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    Worlok: ...Now I had to go into that thread and see. That sounds all kinds of awesome! I wish you would try to write about it - these things often pop up when you're thinking about them - but I know better than trying to make someone write. It's next to impossible when you don't want to or feel unprepared for writing something. So I'll just be looking out for your further posts. :)

    Anyway, hey, these things happen, so don't worry about the apologies. This isn't work, and none of us are your bosses (I hope).

    I just wish I weren't too sleepy to read back when you put your snippet up. It looked fun at first glance.
    There are thousands of good reasons magic doesn't rule the world. They're called mages. - Slightly misquoted Pratchett

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    Quote Originally Posted by Realms of Chaos View Post
    Thank you very much for that quick analysis. I've always wanted to be a better writer so something like this thread is something of a godsend for me. I am in your debt, good woman.

    Edit: Now for a rewrite into the 1st person. In progress. Finished? Probably worse than the original, though. GAH!
    You're very welcome

    I actually enjoyed the first person more. It was nice to get entirely into Flouzer's head. I noticed a couple of typos, but they were all things you forgot to change when you converted it to first person, so no biggy

    One thing I will mention is to be careful of your tenses. This is something I have a hard time with as well, but I noticed in a couple of places you've used the wrong tense.

    On a lighter note, I actually wrote something yesterday! Can't post it though, because I actually hand wrote it (because husband was using my laptop to play Mount & Blade). I will type it up tonight and post it then I have a new character I'm quite excited about, so I have a whole pile of backstory ideas in my head.

    Edit: Can I make a snippet request? Pisha, I just read your post in the 'nasty things to do to your players' thread. Can you please, pretty please turn that into a snippet? It's so awesome it just cries out to be written

    more edits: have another snippet first in a planned series.

    The Bartender
    or Quite Delightful and Enchanting
    Spoiler
    Show
    “Who is that child?” the speaker was a man from the local temple to ? He hadn’t said much beyond requesting new drinks and his voice startled me. I turned to follow his pointing finger and shrugged

    “That’s just Lyra” I said, “she’s the daughter of one of my serving girls.” I pointed myself, drawing the man’s attention to where Merith was clearing the detritus of two solid hours of drinking.

    “She is quite enchanting” he said, smiling in the manner of a man who has children of his own. One of my eyebrows shot up, seemingly of its own accord. I had never considered Lyra to be an ‘enchanting’ child. Still, the more I engaged this man, the more he was likely to spend. I could accept that familiarity might breed contempt.

    I set down the glass I was cleaning and gave my attention to Lyra. Her black hair trailed down past her waist. She is small, but so is her mother. Big blue eyes, but tiny and pale. She is cute I will admit. In the way that all small children are cute. I very much doubt that she will grow up to be anybody’s idea of a beauty though. She was currently running through my tavern, using a piece of bright blue ribbon as a streamer. Alton held out a hand to her and she stopped immediately. they’re an odd looking pair, the five year old human child and the halfling man – barely an inch of difference between them. Lyra grinned and put the ribbon in his hand. Alton immediately stood on his chair and began waving the ribbon around and over his head. Lyra burst out with laughter, dancing around and trying to grab the ribbon.

    Now that I think about it, they do this every time Alton appears in the tavern. How odd – Alten is a solemn, surely creature – the only time I ever see him smile is when Lyra is around. I watch her more closely as she reclaims her ribbon and dances off. Is that the halfling language she’s speaking? Now that is a surprise.

    “She has her moments” I admit grudgingly. I’m not sure why it bothers me, and the cleric? Paladin? Priest? - I can never tell the difference. Anyway, he seems to recognise that I have no real reason for dissatisfaction.

    “Quite delightful” he says, setting his mug back on the counter. “She brightens the room.”

    The used mug finds its way into my hand while I find myself musing on the cleric’s (?) words. Merith catches my eye and makes a couple of incomprehensible hand gestures I have finally worked out mean she is going ot take Lyra upstairs. A nod to Tanner to take over the bar and I take the latest dishes out the back to the kitchen. I’m gone for barely a minute and yet as soon as I get back, I can sense the change in mood. Alten is growling into his mug and his companions are looking both nervous and exasperated. Tanner is leaning on the bar, drumming his fingertips on the polished wood. Men and women are finishing mouthfuls of food and drink and taking their leave.

    Enchanting. Quite delightful. Maybe. Maybe not. But as Merith returns to the tavern floor I begin to think I should start convincing her to extend Lyra’s bed time.
    Last edited by Lady Moreta; 2010-10-11 at 05:45 AM. Reason: added a new snippet

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    Quote Originally Posted by Werekat
    That sounds all kinds of awesome! I wish you would try to write about it
    It was. Perhaps my memory will resume service, given time, but until then I'll have to file it under a mix of lack on material, lack on willingness to type all-too-blatant untruths, and writer's block.

    And the 'work' thing is true, so no harm done, I guess. Thank you, is what I'm trying to say.

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    Quote Originally Posted by Worlok View Post
    It was. Perhaps my memory will resume service, given time, but until then I'll have to file it under a mix of lack on material, lack on willingness to type all-too-blatant untruths, and writer's block.

    And the 'work' thing is true, so no harm done, I guess. Thank you, is what I'm trying to say.
    Well, if you discover a cure for writer's block - be sure to milk it, it'd be worth a fortune Seriously, if you do get past that, and work quiets down, I'm interested as well

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    Quote Originally Posted by Lady Moreta
    Seriously, if you do get past that, and work quiets down, I'm interested as well
    Oddly, my homebrewing and general making-up of stuff is not at all affected, I just fail to put those few pieces of memory into snippet-appropiate form. (The 'work' thing wasn't work being too much, but this thread not technically being my job, though. I may have worded that improperly.)

    Anyway, thanks for posting interest, everyone. Perhaps I'll actually have some sort of epiphany, so it's basically waiting time. Good thing I'm not the only one posting here.
    Last edited by Worlok; 2010-10-12 at 08:26 AM. Reason: 'Sorm' typo, alright...

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    Sorry for sort-of-doubleposting, but good news, everyone: Cleaning out the storage, the DM found some of his old notes and already sent me some of them, as my entry in the 'ridiculous improvised weapons' thread may indicate. Not much for an actual narrative yet, but I'm positive many a snippet lies ahead. Or, you know, at least about six or seven, starting some time on Tuesday, when he can mail again, most likely.

    (Also, what's with noone 'snippeting' here anymore?)

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    I will be writing the death of Valek today, real life caught up with me over fall break and I haven't been able to devote time to it till today.
    your patience is appreciated.

  18. - Top - End - #168
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    It's alright. I trust it will be worth the wait, anyway.

    Also, reading your signature, I guess this might interest you:

    Quote Originally Posted by Marriclay
    Quote Originally Posted by Machiavellian
    Holy crap. This guy's a loser. DO hit him with DMG I & II repeatedly
    I dunno, you just gave me the image of a nerd flying slow motion over a coffee table towards another nerd, dual wielding massive books. It was awesome.
    Last edited by Worlok; 2010-10-15 at 10:46 AM. Reason: Quote: Fixed.

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    Quote Originally Posted by Worlok View Post
    It's alright. I trust it will be worth the wait, anyway.

    Also, reading your signature, I guess this might interest you:
    oh dear.... expectations...

    also, I thought I'd added that to my signature...... oopsies.

    anyways
    -drumroll-

    after much procrastination and agonizing and writers block, I give you all, The Death of Valek

    Spoiler
    Show
    The Death of Valek.




    I watch the orc step forward and swing his axe down at me, as I see this, a small, utterly detached part of my mind looks back and examines the steps that brought me to this.
    Time slows down….


    STOPS!

    Word has spread quickly through town that a band of orcs has ambushed and captured a trade caravan. The battle was doubtless very bloody and very quick. The orcs have demanded almost the whole year’s harvest as ransom, if the townspeople accept this offer, they’re liable to starve. Sounds to me like its time to skip town, but a group of foolish optimists have approached me. They’re an alright bunch, for a bunch o elves, an’ I’ve worked with ‘em before.

    They sent Tarik to come talk to me, don’t take a half brained grobii to figure out that sending their dwarf companion to talk to me is more likely to get me to take the job. Tarik seems fairly on the level, even if he does travel with them woodsy folk. He tells me that the town leadership has offered to pay their little band 225 gold pieces to rescue the merchants. TWO TWENTY FIVE!? Being ever happy to part people from the weight of their purse, I was more than happy to tag along. Tarik also told me that the party had engaged the services of that hulking barbarian that had been sittin’ round the tavern of late, evil lookin’ sumbitch if I ever saw one. Towers over everyone in the villiage, and his arms’ thicker than the blacksmiths!
    I agree to accompany this madman’s quest for my usual fee, an even split of any goods found, + my own share of what the town pays them. (I’m fond of the guy, so I let him off easy) Tarik quickly agrees and I go pack up my things
    Axe? Check
    Sap? Check
    Crossbow? Check
    Ammo? Oh aye!

    We head out and proceed towards the orc lair, its in the midst of winding canyons, and it takes the better part of a day to find it. When we get there, and its obvious that this is there, the entrance to the lair is a mere hole in the side of the canyon, with an iron portcullis covering it and a crude sign stuck in the ground, it reads “HUMIEZ KEEP OUT” …. I think,

    The portcullis is made of sturdy iron, and its spikes dig into the ground. Inside, just out of reach, I spot a (very shoddily made) winch. Within the cave, I see the remains of a cook fire and along the back wall is a grisly collection of skulls, some animal and human, but a few elf skulls as well.

    Tarik’s group begins discussing amongst themselves how they want to get the door open. I cross my arms and wait, keeping an eye on the hulking barbarian they’ve brought along, and the entrance to the cave. As I observe them shooting down each other’s plans and overhear something about a ‘magazine subscription’ whatever that is, the barbarian, obviously fed up, stomps over to the portcullis, grabs it by its base and HEAVES! Pulling it up over his head and holding it. “its open.” The barbarian deadpans.

    I hear several surprised grunts just inside the cave and yell out a warning as I see an orc step out from beside the doorway and raise its axe.

    Before it can swing, tarik rushes in and plants his shoulder into the Orc’s gut, shoving it back and following him into the cave. As Tarik and the orc fly through the entry in a tangled heap of limbs, weapons, and a beard, two more orcs take swings at them as they fly by, but they both miss and instead turn to look at the barbarian still holding the portcullis up.

    Quicker than I can get my axe out, I see the party Tracker, Lan I think his name is, rush in and engage one of the orcs, either oblivious or over confident of his skill and ignoring the other. Just as I’m starting to head towards the fray (my axe hasn’t tasted swinekin in a long! Time) the barbarian heaves up the portcullis with a grunt and rushes in before it clangs back into place, hammering blow after blow at the last orc I can see.

    Unfortunately for the idiots inside, the portcullis slams back into place, leaving me and the druid and her pet dog outside, the druid, Lawesse, rushes forward and tries to lift the portcullis but its obviously way to heavy for her. I draw my crossbow and step up to the portcullis and take a peak inside, all I see is a swirling melee, theres no way I can get a shot off without hitting one of my employers, so I put my crossbow away and lend my strength to helpming move the portcullis, after a few moments I hear the sound of an axe crashing into flesh followed by a human grunt of pain. I look up and see that Lan has taken a blow across the chest and has collapsed, two orcs standing over him. I can’t see Tarik or the barbarian.

    I redouble my efforts to lift, encouraging Lawesse to do the same.

    As I keep an eye on the orcs, I see them step out of sight, axes raised and evil grins upon their hateful faces, I hear the staccato ringing of axes against axes followed by a sickening crunch… then, a roar, more in common with the sound of an animal than a man, there are words within the roar. Words that, if he were here, would have the paladin sick with disgust and fear…. The words are BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE! My head snaps up at this, and I see an orc fly across the entry way to land out of sight.

    With a grunt of effort I say to Lawesse ‘ye hired a NORSEMAN!?”
    She ignores me, smart lass.

    The rhythm of steel on steel picks up again, this time with the barbarian’s incoherent bellows providing a bass counterpoint to the high pitched squeal and ting of metal on metal.

    … by the time we get the portcullis up, the battle is over, Lan lies on the ground, covered in blood (I’m not sure how much of it is his, the barbarian was very messy) Tarik is busy pouring a healing potion down his throat, he coughs, gags, and wakes up with a painful gasp.
    Panting heavily from his exertion, the barbarian – Cog! That’s his name! – walks up and assesses the party for injury, he has a huge cut in his side, it looks deep, but it doesn’t seem to be troubling him.

    I believe its time for a little valekian brand pick me up.
    “so.” I say with a bemused grin, “what shall we do next??”
    Lawesse ignores me again, smart lass.

    There’s only one door in the room, and the party moves towards it, as the only one in the group with half a brain, I put my ear to the door and listen … I don’t hear a thing and I give the all clear to open the door.
    This time, instead of arguing, they simply gesture for Cog to do his thing. Good, they’re learning. Cog steps up to the door and it bursts off its hinges as his foot connects with it.

    “once smacked an orc boss in the face like that” Cog remarks as he steps back, allowing tarik and Lan in the room. Lan points with his sword at the far corner and exclaims “what is THAT?!” I follow his point and see a huge … cube… of … jello…
    Oh buggah..

    The cube begins to slide towards us, making a .. very unpleasant noise. “ I recommend we NOT let that touch us” I announce, and back away from the door.

    They must agree with me for once, as they follow me out quickly as well. The cube reaches the doorway and begins to try and squeeze through it.

    “it’s coming in! DO SOMETHING” … I think that was Lan, but I’m not sure. Tarik, Lan, and Lawesse all produce bows and open fire on the cube. Their projectiles sink into it, causin ripples along its surface. And then they begin to dissolve….
    I pull out my crossbow and add to the barrage.
    Heh, barrage, I kill me.

    -minutes later-
    Okay… this is dull, I mean, I know I don’t exactly sign up for being maimed and harmed, (course not, I sign up for the gold) but this is dull, the Cube obviously can’t get in here, but our missles don’t seem to be affecting it.

    As I load my crossbow again, watching the previous missles disappear, I can’t help but sigh in exasperation, but I shrug and raise my crossbow to fire at the beast.
    To my utter surprise, as Lan looses another arrow into the jello, it… pops? It begins to ripple and sizzle and deflate, losing its shape and spreading all over the floor.

    “well… that was anti-climatic” I state.
    The party moves on to the door on the opposite side of the room…
    Ugh, man this room stinks!

    I give the door the once over and open it, nothing on the other side, nothing dangerous at least, there’s an orc over in the corner collapsed in front of a treasure chest. He’s still breathing (a problem I rectify with my ax) and then give the chest a once over, unfortunately, in my haste, I set off the trap inside it, spraying some foul smoke into my face… man, that stuff is nasty.

    The chest is mostly empty, and I leave it to be collected later.
    As I head back to where the party is waiting, I notice something about the wall opposite the door… it looks, odd, it doesn’t match up to the rest of the wall.

    Upon closer inspection, I find what seems to be a key hole, but we have no key for it, so I go abouts opening it ‘the hard way’
    After a few tries, the door clicks open.

    With the low rumble of stone on stone, the secret door swivels open. Behind it are three orcs, who are apparently very happy to see me…


    I watch the orc step forward and swing his axe down at me in a lethal arc...

    Time slows down….


    stops




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    As I said: Worth the wait. I enjoyed it thoroughly. Valek comes off as a bit of a cynic, but it really helps getting into his head.

  21. - Top - End - #171
    Barbarian in the Playground
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    big teej: That was awesome! Valek's accent is awesome, and I love his personality. Gruff and a little cynical, but a good guy underneath it all. The battle sequences were well done, and I really loved the Warhammer reference in the barbarian's battle cry. I feel bad for Valek though. I'd say that snippet was definitely worth the wait! Nice job!

    Worlok: Looking forward to your snippets! I saw your first one, but didn't really get to read it. So I really want to see what sort of things been going on in your games.


    Now as for myself, I had a really epic session last weekend, and I've been writing loads of snippets based on it all week, and I've finally managed to complete three of them! The first two are flashbacks Varen had while knocked out, and the last finally picks up from Revelations in the Eye of the Storm.

    So without further ado, here they are:

    Fifteen Years Ago
    (or 6 Year Olds are Adorable)

    Spoiler
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    I made a new friend today!

    She was standing outside all alone. She looked very sad, so I talked to her.

    “Hi,” I said. “Why are you here?”

    “My daddy doesn’t want me…” she said. “So he’s making me stay here. He’s talking to someone about it right now,” She was really, really sad. That made me sad too.

    “Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry,”

    “He doesn’t like me anymore,” She said. “He said that I’ll never see him again…” She started crying. That made me feel worse.

    “Don’t cry!” I said. “I like you,”

    “Yeah…?” she said. I thought I saw her smile.

    “Yeah!” I said. “You want to be friends?”

    “Okay,” she said. She stopped crying, and that made me happy. “I’m Natalia,” she said.

    “Nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m Varen,”



    Four Years Ago
    (or 17 Year Olds Are Much Less Adorable than 6 Year Olds)

    Spoiler
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    Natalia had been gone for a while. I was starting to get nervous. She had been out with him for far too long. Lance… He was a real piece of work, a manipulative street tough who only cared about himself, but could convince just about everyone around him otherwise. He could get away with anything he wanted, and he did. He was a complete and total scumbag, that was for sure.

    I just couldn’t understand what Natalia saw in him.

    They had been going out for far too long. He would sneak on to the abbey grounds and throw rocks at her window until she would sneak out and run off with him. They would disappear for hours at a time, at least once a week, until she would come back in the early hours of the morning. Alone. But this time, she had been gone for much longer than usual…

    I heard a loud knock upon the door. I opened it, and there was Tali at last, but not as I had expected her. Her face was streaked with tears, and her face was red. She looked like she had been crying for a while.

    “H-hey, Varen…” she said between sobs. “C-can I come I-in?”

    “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Is everything alright?” She shook her head as she entered.

    “No…” she mumbled, as she closed the door behind her. “Lance said he’s through with me,”

    “What? What happened?” I knew no good would come from him…

    “We… y-you know…” her voice trailed off. “H-he said it would strengthen our relationship… He g-got what he wanted, a-and that was it… He was done…” She looked as though she was about to start crying again.

    “Oh, Tali…” I murmured. “I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can do for you, just let me know,”

    The next thing I knew, I had my back against the bed, her body pressed firmly against mine. Her arms were wrapped tightly around my body, her head pressed again my chest.

    “You’ve always been so good to me…” I heard her sob. “Always willing to listen, always there… I need you, and I’ll do anything to keep you around. Anything…” What had gotten into her? “I just don’t want to be alone,”

    Oh gods. I wanted her. I gazed down at her, taking in her beautiful blue eyes, her golden hair, her perfect figure, her sweet scent. She smiled at me, and began to lean in.

    No. This wasn’t right! She wasn’t herself, and I would be even worse than Lance if I were to anything to her now.

    I stopped her, just as her lips began to touch mine.

    “Tali,” I said. “Don’t. You’re not yourself. Please… stop,”

    She recoiled instantly, with a look of pure shock on her face that was quickly replaced by one of anguish and rage.

    “What, is something wrong with me?!” she screamed. Before I could do anything to stop her, she had gone, slamming the door behind her.

    Feeling terrible, I curled up in my bed, hoping that rest could simply wash away the encounter. But sleep never came. My mind kept wandering to other things. Did I do the wrong thing? What if I handled that a different way? I need to hurt Lance. I need to apologize. I need to, I need to. What if, what if?

    Morning came way too soon. Forcing myself out of bed, I went down to the eating hall, though I wasn’t hungry. When I entered, I saw Tali. Avoiding my gaze, she stood to leave and brushed past me, not saying a word. I turned to follow her, but found that I just couldn’t. Feeling even worse than before, I took my seat at the table, where I remained until everyone else had finished.

    Just wanting to get away from everything, I got up and just started walking. After a long, long, while, I found myself sitting alone at the brook. Closing my eyes, I tried once again to escape, only to be disturbed by the sound of footsteps.


    “I’m sorry about last night,” I heard her say from behind me. “And this morning. I just needed some time alone to think,”

    “I’m really sorry about what I did too,” I replied. “There’s nothing wrong with you, you know.”

    “Yeah,” she said, giving me a slight smile as she sat beside me.

    “You feel better?”

    She nodded. We sat in silence, just watching the creek, side by side.

    “You’re a good friend, Varen,” she said eventually, still watching the river. “And I hope that those… stupid things I did last night won’t change that. You mean a lot to me…” she continued, turning to face me. “As a friend. And I really hope that we’ll be able to continue on like this never happened.”

    “Tali, nothing has changed,” I said. “No matter what you do, no matter what happens, I will always be your friend, and as long as I’m around, you’ll never, ever, be alone,”


    “That’s all I need,” I heard her whisper. “That’s all I need,”



    In Search of Truth
    (or Three Years for THIS?!)

    Spoiler
    Show
    It was still raining when I finally came to, and I was soaked through to the bone. How long had I been unconscious? The sky was still dark; I couldn’t even tell if it was the same day, much less morning or night. Slowly, my thoughts began to return to me.

    It was Natalia I had fought. Or was it? No, it had to be… But why? Why had she taken the mantle of the Deathwind? Why did she fight me? Did she really want me to join her? Where was she now? Why was I still alive? I had far too many questions, and much too little time. I needed to catch up to the Fear Legion as quickly as I could. Only then would I finally have answers.

    But first I would have to get off this cliff. Cautiously, I started my descent, my mind still spinning from fatigue. Unfortunately, my foot hit a slick stone, and before I knew it, I was at the base of the hill, covered in even more bruises and blood than I had before. I picked myself up and started walking. Lightning illuminated the sky, revealing an open patch in the grass. I could have sworn I saw a flash of gold.

    When I arrived there, I found her. Natalia was lying there, in nothing but rags, covered in blood. When I got closer, I realized with horror that her eyes had been gouged out.

    But she had a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. She was alive! She was definitely alive! Cradling her with one arm, I searched frantically through my pack until I found what I was looking for. A small vial, filled with glowing red liquid. She needed this a lot more than I did now. Carefully, I emptied it into her mouth, forcing her to swallow it.

    Coughing and spluttering, she entered the world of the living. Feeling my grip, she jolted, and screamed.

    “Tali! Tali, it’s me!” I tried to calm her down.

    “Varen…?” she mumbled, turning her head in my direction. “You should have just let me die…”

    “Tali, please,” I begged. “Tell me what happened. Why were you imitating the Deathwind? Were you leading them? What is going on?”

    “You wouldn’t understand,” she coughed. “Besides, it doesn’t make a difference anymore…”

    “Tali,” I pleaded. “I need to know. For three years, I have been searching for you, only to find this. Please…”

    “Three years?” she laughed weakly. “Three years? You’re an idiot. You should have just given up on me…”

    “I could never give up on you,”

    “We’ll see,” her tone became bitter. “You really want to know what happened? I led them. I killed the Deathwind and took his place. I’ve been behind it all. I was your enemy. So just kill me...” I noticed that tears were running down her face. “Just end it,”

    So it was true. She had become a powerful force of evil in the world, only to finally be thrown down at the pinnacle of her reign. She had been the one who had orchestrated countless crimes against the King and all of Geridia. She had become everything that I sought to oppose, to destroy.


    But gods forgive me, I loved her. I always did.



    “No,” I said. “If what you say is true, then there are crimes that you must answer for. But I will not be the one to condemn you. There are ways that you can right the wrongs you have committed, and I refuse to believe that there is no good left in you,”

    “You really think you can redeem me?” she chuckled. “You’re an idiot,”

    I helped her to her feet, and held her close as she used me for support.

    “Alright,” she sighed. “Where do we start?”


    Perhaps it was some vain hope, a belief that she still had some goodness in her, that colored my final decision. Perhaps it was a need for answers, or a desire to absolve her from her crimes. Or perhaps it was all of those thoughts and far, far more. But she came along, and I still don't know why. All I knew for sure was that I couldn’t let her go.


    Not now. Not ever.
    Last edited by Machuchang; 2010-10-17 at 12:02 PM.

  22. - Top - End - #172
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    BarbarianGuy

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    Quote Originally Posted by Machuchang View Post
    big teej: That was awesome! Valek's accent is awesome, and I love his personality. Gruff and a little cynical, but a good guy underneath it all. The battle sequences were well done, and I really loved the Warhammer reference in the barbarian's battle cry. I feel bad for Valek though. I'd say that snippet was definitely worth the wait! Nice job!

    -bows-
    thankyou

    the barbarian is the infamous 'planeswalker' I keep referring too. who was largelyalmost totally inspired by warhammer =]

    I felt bad for valek too.... he's the only rogue I've ever played

    but I refuse to flub dice rolls, even when my favorite characters are on the line.


    also...
    great work with varen
    I'm sorry I'm not in a rambling mood, but I promise that those snippets are definilty worth of one

  23. - Top - End - #173
    Barbarian in the Playground
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    Quote Originally Posted by big teej View Post
    I felt bad for valek too.... he's the only rogue I've ever played

    but I refuse to flub dice rolls, even when my favorite characters are on the line.
    You are a better man than I. I flub rolls like crazy.

    Quote Originally Posted by big teej View Post
    also...
    great work with varen
    I'm sorry I'm not in a rambling mood, but I promise that those snippets are definilty worth of one
    Hey, you said enough with just that. Thanks a lot!

  24. - Top - End - #174
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    BardGirl

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    Quote Originally Posted by big teej View Post
    after much procrastination and agonizing and writers block, I give you all, The Death of Valek

    Word has spread quickly through town that a band of orcs has ambushed and captured a trade caravan. The battle was doubtless very bloody and very quick. The orcs have demanded almost the whole year’s harvest as ransom, if the townspeople accept this offer, they’re liable to starve. Sounds to me like its time to skip town, but a group of foolish optimists have approached me. They’re an alright bunch, for a bunch o elves, an’ I’ve worked with ‘em before.
    I enjoyed this, poor Valek. I enjoyed the accent as well, but would suggest that you be careful how you use it. I noticed (and the above paragraph is a good example of it) that when you're simply describing something, you lose the accent, but when you're writing something that Valek would be thinking you switch to the accent. Essentially the entire snippet is in Valek's voice - we're pretty much inside his head - and most people do tend to 'talk' when they're thinking. I think it would have flowed better had the entire thing been in the 'bunch o elves' language, or the entire thing not in that style. Easiest way I can think of to do it, is to just write it as normal, and then go back and adjust everything to suit the folksy style you were after.

    Quote Originally Posted by Machuchang View Post
    Fifteen Years Ago
    (or 6 Year Olds are Adorable)
    Aww.

    Quote Originally Posted by Machuchang View Post
    Four Years Ago
    (or 17 Year Olds Are Much Less Adorable than 6 Year Olds)
    Awwwww.

    Quote Originally Posted by Machuchang View Post
    In Search of Truth
    (or Three Years for THIS?!)
    Awwwwwwwwww...

    Seriously, they just had me melting. The 6 year old one was just utterly adorable, the 17 year old one was such a lovely example of a guy doing the right thing. And I dread to think what's going to happen to poor Varen after this little lot. Poor thing.

    And since I'm here, have another snippet. Wrote this as backstory for another pbp character I'm creating.

    Rosalind Armstrong

    Spoiler
    Show
    My head. My head aches. There was something – something important, something I needed to do. Something I should remember. Something...

    “Mmmmpphghggfhh...” Was that my voice? Perhaps?

    “Mmmmarrh?” It appeared it was my voice. What next? The – room? Location. Location was everything. Where am I?

    Get up. Get up R- R-- Ros? Rose? Oh dear. Worry later. Get up now. Get up.

    A room. Messy. Very messy. Derrrr.... Derr --- ick... would not approve. I don’t have mess. De- someone doesn’t approve.

    I can’t see. What? In my eyes? I wipe them with the back of my hand. Liquid. Deep, dark red. The colour of that dress. That one that – they like me in. It’s pretty, glossy and red. It almost sparkles. Smells funny though.

    I think I should tidy up. My hands push up. My head spins. The liquid on my hands and face is on the floor in front of me. My hands slip and I fall face first to the floor. My head spins. I should look up.

    A person? A man. On his side, away from me. Maybe he knows why my head aches. I reach out and shake him. My hands wobble, but I can catch his shirt. He falls on to his back. His head falls to the side and eyes stare at me. Dark eyes. Blue eyes. Covered in – in... blood.

    “NOOOOOOOOO!”

    *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    I remember. I remember all of it. I am Rosalind Armstrong. Rosie to my friends. Rosie to my- my husband. Derrick. Derrick who lies dead before me. The red liquid on my hands and face is blood. My blood.

    I remember everything.

    Derrick screaming at me to take the artefact and run. Derrick running to bar the door to the parlour. A black form slamming the door before he could reach it, sending Derrick flying into the wall. Myself, terrified, running for the tiny derringer hidden in the desk drawer. The explosive force of wood chips flying into my face. I had turned, and the black figure lowered a gun. Lowered it just long enough for Derrick to slam into them from the side. He yelled again for me to run. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I scrambled for the derringer among the ruins of the drawer. I couldn’t find it. Derrick grunted. No time to find the gun. I went for the chair instead. Smashed it over the back of the dark figure. They fell and Derrick scrambled to one side. Shoved the artefact into my hands, and pushed me towards the door. The dark figure stood. Derrick pushed me behind him. A gun went off. Derrick fell. I screamed. And then I ran.

    I thought I had run. My current situation suggested otherwise. I raised a shaking hand to my face. Found torn and tattered skin. A bullet graze. But I wasn’t dead. I must have made a convincing corpse though, for the dark figure was gone. Gone. Gone...

    The artefact!

    Staggering to my feet, I searched. I looked everywhere. I did not touch Derrick.

    It was gone.

    I fell hard against the desk, my head throbbing. My hands found the wall behind me, and I slid down to the floor. My fingers left slimy red stains on the wall. Blood. And – what was that, underneath my hand? I curled fingers around the cool metal and turned my hand over. The derringer. The thrice-damned derringer.

    Tears. Tears both hot and cold. I screamed, ignoring the pain stabbing through my mind. My head. My – my stomach? I felt abruptly cold. The sick feeling in my stomach, whenever the supernatural was nearby. I hadn’t noticed till now. Had I condemned my husband to death? Had I killed him by my inattention?

    The hand holding the derringer slammed into the floor. Followed by the other hand. Paper rustled. Dully, I picked it up and turned it over. It was that letter. The one from that group in New Orleans. Requesting the presence of my husband. Derrick... oh Derrick...

    He had refused the request. For my sake he said. Few knew that his success as an archaeologist, his success in investigating the supernatural came largely from me. From my abilities to sense and manipulate the supernatural. He had decided the risk was not worth it. Not worth it. Not worth my life, he had said. Surely if they knew his success came from a woman, through a woman. Our world was not enlightened enough, he had said. Better for me to remain hidden. He had done it to save me. And I had killed him.

    Tears. Tears both hot and cold. They ran down my face and mixed with blood still flowing from my temple. As I stared at the floor, they dropped from my cheeks. I wept blood. As the Lord had in the Garden of Gethsemane. Why, God? Why?

    As I sat there, I made my decision. Derrick and I had been happy. I would never be happy without him. I would join this group in New Orleans, and if they had a problem with my being a woman. They would not have it for long.

    I would use this group to help me find the artefact and the dark figure. And I would keep the derringer with me always. I would not be unprepared again.

    And I would weep blood, even as the Lord Jesus; until I was reunited with my Derrick.

  25. - Top - End - #175
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    You might remember and the story of Rered Naw captain of the S.S.Silver….. well isn’t that story, this is a different perhaps just as entertaining story!

    It's really long though, thus the spoiler.

    Am I alive? I don’t know. Am I awake? I think so.
    From the perspective of Mister, a warforged rouge.

    Spoiler
    Show
    Darkness, it isn’t cold and I feel nothing. Not that I could feel the cold in the first place. I can feel pain but not the way others do. I do not fear pain, just what it represents. It represents oblivion, elimination the inability to carry out ones orders. To fail in one’s purpose, this is what I fear. This fear has come true, everything is dark. I do now know how long I had been like this but it had been a long while. Suddenly information floods my optical receivers, the things that humans call eyes. It is bright but I cannot blink, despite this I soon adjust. A young boy, human?

    Yes human a male, his anatomy suggests that he is a non-combatant, a secondary target at best. Target? What does that mean? What’s a human? “Oi it moved!” The boy yells as I turn my head to get a better look at him. Soon I am surrounded by more boys some with weapons. Am I being threatened? Something in my head clicks, I try to move my hand but it is held down. Turning my head to see what has obstructed me I see a root from a tree. Looking at my body I realize that I have been here for a long time, so long that nature has grown over me. The boys weren’t brandishing weapons; they intended to dig me out.

    Soon I was free, they were clearly not hostile and thus I had no reason to attack. Thus I stood there. “Hey c’mon, we got to show you to everyone else Dad said he didn’t believe me but once I show you no one will call me a liar anymore!” The child proclaims.” I nod, a direct order though not completely official is still an order. Walking with the boy his friends chat excitedly amongst each other occasionally glancing back at me when they assumed I wasn’t watching. “So what’s you name Mister? You can call me Jacob!” Name? This unit did not have a name. What did the child call this unit? Mister was it?

    “This Unit has no name.” Disappointed he frowned deep in thought. For a while I was ignored until we had cleared the forest. Reaching the village complete chaos had ensued. Screams and yells were issued. The children wanted to show me off as a sort of prize but clearly they had no idea what I was but to be fair neither did I, all this unit knew was that it required orders. As the scene in front of us unfolds the villagers panic and run. One of men holds a pointy stick made of metal comes forward. “Get away from the children!” He commands. A direct order so I comply.

    Confused the man isn’t sure what to do. The boy known as Jacob runs up and yells. “See dad I told you there was a giant puppet sleeping in the forest.” He yells with glee.
    His father dumbfounded stares at me not lowering his stick. “Jacob, this thing is a warforged, a war machine!” He yells. “This thing will kill us all! They haven’t been around for decades and you bring one in!” He asks. Warforged, is that what I am? A war machine? That makes sense, I follow orders like a soldier, yet I do not have the will to fight. Looking at the stick I ask. “Can you lower that stick?”
    “I will not lower my sword!” He yells. “Not until you lay dead that is!”
    “This unit has never seen a sword before, what is its function?” I ask curious.

    Reeling back as if struck he isn’t sure what to say. “Well warforged aren’t known for lying…. Boy you said you found it in the forest right? Maybe that did something screwy with its brain?” A possibility, running a systems check I find that several functions are missing. My combat drive has been damaged however it seems my learning hardware has increased to compensate. “Do you have a name?” He asks hesitantly.
    “I have only been referred to as ‘Mister from Jacob.”

    Several years pass, the village has more or less become more accustomed to me. Jacob has been growing up and has been learning his father’s trade and is becoming a decent blacksmith. I too have taken up this trade and many others. The ability to create is strangely satisfying. “Hey Mister I bet I can fix this horse shoe then you can fix that spade!” He yells hammering it.
    “Illogical, despite my ability to work at peak capacity the horse shoes mass in significantly smaller than that of the spade thus your victory is already assured, this competition is meaningless.” I say not taking my eyes off the tool.

    “C’mon Mister just do it! Race me!” Another direct order, thus I comply. I find myself working faster than usual cutting corners that I normally would not but despite this I still fail. Celebrating Jacob then moves onto the next horse shoe, I then slow down and proceed to fix the spade properly.

    Several more years past, Jacob is now a proper adult, his father too old to work the forge. I have taken up many trades, I have been taught how to smith, how to weave and even cook. I am not only accepted here but loved, the children play with me whenever I have spare time, during festivals and times of celebrations I create toys for them. The children are very important to me. Everyone else still sees me as a war machine but the children? They see me as alive, they cannot comprehend that I am just a golem, a machine. If it can move and talk then it is alive. It is illogical but I am fond of them for this reason. Jacob of course treats me like a human and even family.

    Fifty years past. Jacob has died of old age, leaving me the forge I feel a strange emotion. Sadness, he is the first person I have ever seen, the first person to accept me. Now he is gone. It is illogical the way I think. Many of the children I played with have grown up now and everyone in the village accepts me whole heartedly, no longer am I the subject of paranoia and ill will. I am a fact of life, an old tree that has always been there a building that has wistood the test of time. To these people I am just an object, only the children see me as alive. The only adult to see me as alive was Jacob.

    A decade later, I have converted the forge into an orphanage. My skills in cooking and weaving have not gone to waste. To feed the children I hunt using the bow and arrow I made myself. Using the fur I sell it and the meat I keep. The villages like me since I repair everything and help in the construction in everything new. Since I do not sleep I spend my nights creating. Thus I am well funded for an orphanage. The establishment was created after the war in the south was announced; parents had to go to war and never returned leaving me to care for them. I was never conscripted since I was not considered a person.

    Two years later. I wish to smith again but the orphanage is my primary concern, at the moment it is over capacity, the village has become larger due to the refugees. Many of them do not bat an eye to me, my kind are too old to be remembered now. The war is with another kingdom, human against human. According to the news we are winning however with this many people starving I ask myself what have we won? I try to farm, catch and cook as much food for everyone but I am not efficient enough, there are too many people. I can only feed my orphanage.

    One year later. A report from the south, something is coming, not the enemy army though something else a dragon. Rumours of course and something I do not concern myself over, I have an orphanage to maintain. The children love me and I love them, they are mine after all. Out in the forest I hunt not for their next meal but for a beast that has been chasing away the local game. A lone wolf that has wandered in from the west and I must kill it. The fur alone should at least buy me a large bag of grains from the market if I’m lucky. Winter is coming up so fur is valuable.
    Killing the wolf easily enough I return to find everything on fire. It’s the dragon. I run into the inferno not caring for my own safety, my existence does not matter. No one is alive, everyone is dead, the dragon that’s what it was! It was the dragon, this unit is not equipped to fight a dragon. Looking up my limbs freeze, something inside me screams RUN! Is this what fear was? Through the smoke and fog a large red lizards looms over me, it does not even notice me, it simply passes yet I fear for myself for the first time ever.

    So I run, this unit cannot fight so it is logical.

    Years pass, I have taken to the road and become something that is called an adventurer. My allies appreciate my skills, one of them a cleric enjoys my company greatly despite everyone else’s coldness. Logically it was because they did not like the cleric either however we were kept because we were useful. The cleric was named Joran and he was disliked because his god was the god of death. Though many considered him to be evil they permitted him to stay because of his hatred of undead. “They are unnatural, trying to escape the natural order of things!” He would say.

    “What about me?” I ask. He smiles and puts his hand on my shoulder.
    “You are clearly affected by positive and negative energy the way I am, though not completely you are alive and thus can eventually die which means you are not an abomination.” I do not know why but this makes me pleased, if only everyone could think like this. It was logical, you could only be alive if you could die. I was content. Our quest was to slay a dragon, a red dragon the same one that had destroyed my village all those years ago.

    Years pass, Joran and I have become fast friends with the rest of the group. Not everyone accepts us but we have each other at least. They accept Joran because he is brave and willing to save the lives of all while they like me because of my honesty and ability to create plans, something not too different from my crafts. Though Koras the barbarian from the east likes me because I know how to cook. “Hey Mister, you need a last name.” Koras yells in between mouth fulls of turkey. Though I cannot eat I sit with everyone during meal times.
    “This unit does not require a last name.” I reply.
    “C’mon everyone needs a last name it tells everyone where you came from!”
    Pausing for a moment I then talk. “Very well, you may call me Mister Jacob from now on.”
    "A knife can only bring true happiness in the hands of a chef."

    "What if the other person was Masochistic?"

    "........."

  26. - Top - End - #176
    Troll in the Playground
     
    BarbarianGuy

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    Quote Originally Posted by Machuchang View Post
    You are a better man than I. I flub rolls like crazy.



    Hey, you said enough with just that. Thanks a lot!
    yay lawfulness!

    and you are welcome.

    Quote Originally Posted by Lady Moreta View Post
    I enjoyed this, poor Valek. I enjoyed the accent as well, but would suggest that you be careful how you use it. I noticed (and the above paragraph is a good example of it) that when you're simply describing something, you lose the accent, but when you're writing something that Valek would be thinking you switch to the accent. Essentially the entire snippet is in Valek's voice - we're pretty much inside his head - and most people do tend to 'talk' when they're thinking. I think it would have flowed better had the entire thing been in the 'bunch o elves' language, or the entire thing not in that style. Easiest way I can think of to do it, is to just write it as normal, and then go back and adjust everything to suit the folksy style you were after.
    yea..... but I know why that happened, I was typing up the 'read this to the players' boxes in the modules and just tweaked it a bit. hopefully that sort of thing won't crop up when I write outside the module...

    I'm glad you liked it ^_^

    I might go back and rewrite it purely from his perspective...


    also
    your snippet was good


    Quote Originally Posted by freebiewitz View Post
    You might remember and the story of Rered Naw captain of the S.S.Silver….. well isn’t that story, this is a different perhaps just as entertaining story!

    It's really long though, thus the spoiler.

    Am I alive? I don’t know. Am I awake? I think so.
    From the perspective of Mister, a warforged rouge.

    I like!!!!

    just one small teeny tiny complaint.... and this is something I can lodge against everyone who contributes to this thread, including myself...

    it makes me want to be a player again instead of being a DM

    meaning: this was a great read

  27. - Top - End - #177
    Barbarian in the Playground
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    Quote Originally Posted by freebiewitz View Post
    Am I alive? I don’t know. Am I awake? I think so.
    From the perspective of Mister, a warforged rouge.
    Oh man! That was just amazing. I love Mister! He had a fascinating perspective of the world, and the way he narrated was just excellent. His logical mind reminded me somewhat of Meursault from Camus's The Stranger (a good thing), but I really enjoyed how I could still perceive the emotions that Mister was feeling. I felt so bad for him, though, with every cruddy thing that happened to him throughout his life, but I really admired the way he pulled himself through it all, always doing things on others' behalves. I found Mister to be an incredibly admirable character. You really did a great job!

    Also, the ending was just beautiful.

    Quote Originally Posted by Lady Moreta View Post
    Seriously, they just had me melting. The 6 year old one was just utterly adorable, the 17 year old one was such a lovely example of a guy doing the right thing. And I dread to think what's going to happen to poor Varen after this little lot. Poor thing.
    I'm glad you enjoyed them.

    Quote Originally Posted by Lady Moreta View Post
    Rosalind Armstrong
    Wow... That was really intense.

    But you did a fantastic job! I love the amnesia bit at the beginning, and I think you managed to convey the fuzziness of her thoughts and slow return to horrifying lucidity in an excellent manner. The battle scene was very well written, and I thought it really added to the confused and eerie tone of the story, while at the same time contrasting with the slow and foreboding sense of the beginning. I loved it.

    Just out of curiosity, what time period does her story take place in?

  28. - Top - End - #178
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    Freebiewitz, I really enjoyed this. I think you got into the head of a creature that's alive-but-not really well. Just a couple of things I noticed...

    Quote Originally Posted by freebiewitz View Post
    It represents oblivion, elimination the inability to carry out ones orders.
    This sentence doesn't make sense. I think you've got a double negative in there somewhere. If you eliminate the inability, then you've got ability - which doesn't seem to be what you're going for here.

    Quote Originally Posted by freebiewitz View Post
    To fail in one’s purpose,
    Don't need any apostraphe here I know that might seem like nitpicking, it's just a pet peeve of mine.

    Quote Originally Posted by freebiewitz View Post
    Pausing for a moment I then talk. “Very well, you may call me Mister Jacob from now on.”
    This though? This just made me go "awwwwww" Beautiful ending, I loved it

    Quote Originally Posted by Machuchang View Post
    Wow... That was really intense.

    But you did a fantastic job! I love the amnesia bit at the beginning, and I think you managed to convey the fuzziness of her thoughts and slow return to horrifying lucidity in an excellent manner. The battle scene was very well written, and I thought it really added to the confused and eerie tone of the story, while at the same time contrasting with the slow and foreboding sense of the beginning. I loved it.

    Just out of curiosity, what time period does her story take place in?
    Thank you That was the feeling I was going for. I'm glad it worked so well, I wasn't sure if it was really coming across properly. But it's hard to really write/convey a sense of amnesia when you've never experienced it yourself.

    19th Century, Victorian England. The game itself is set in 1891, and we've been told that the group has been together for about a year before the game itself starts. So I would say that scene happened either early 1890 or late 1889. Need to finish the actual character sheet already... it's a bit confusing trying to generate a 3.5 character when it's not normal fantasy.

  29. - Top - End - #179
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
    Lord_Gareth's Avatar

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    Sep 2007

    Default Re: D&D Snippets

    I'm sorry I haven't delivered anything yet. IRL has been kicking the CRAP out of me.


    Quote Originally Posted by Chilingsworth View Post
    Wow! Not only was that awesome, I think I actually kinda understand Archeron now. If all the "intermediate" outer planes got that kind of treatment, I doubt there would be anywhere near as many critics of their utility.
    My extended homebrew sig

  30. - Top - End - #180
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    BardGirl

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    Default Re: D&D Snippets

    Hey! you're back

    Missed you. Missed your writing

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