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  1. - Top - End - #331
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    @PM
    When are you going to fix that snippet of yours so that it's fit to review, hmmm?
    Today, obviously Done!

    foreshadowing
    OH. Well in that case, I'd just make it a little clearer that it's an unusual mannerism for her, but definitely leave it in if it's got ties to the future.

    @Xerinous
    Aha! With three people contributing to the same campaign's events, maybe it's time for me to rethink the archive organization...
    Last edited by Dr Bwaa; 2012-11-26 at 02:40 PM.
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  2. - Top - End - #332
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    @ Dr Bwaa

    I applied some of the fixes to my last snippets and I'm glad that you enjoyed them.

    Now to the reply to your reply.

    You May Call Me Jack
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    Reads well enough here, but when we get to the end, there's nothing really to suggest that Jack considers the apprentice who ends up naming him a "friend". Just a thought.
    It wasn't really just the apprentice. It was more the entire community of the small town collectively.

    "Garnered" means "gathered" or "collected". I don't know exactly what word you were aiming for here, but it probably wasn't this one.
    That was just my misunderstanding of the meaning of garnered. I always hear and read it in the command, "Garner your armor," so I assume he is telling his mean to "Put on their armor." Now I know he is telling them to "Get their armor."

    Is "show" the right thing to say here? Is the display of emotion even relevant? I would think that it matters whether they feel it, not whether they show it. By the way, I think you do a very good job throughout here explaining what free will is and how it works. I don't know if you intended it, but the whole passage does come across as a bit bitter--understandable, but then it seems kind of weird in retrospect as we get to know Jack better.
    I like the use of the word show here. He doesn't care about the fact that they don't feel emotion. To him the other devas are just automatons, puppets on a string. He does, however, understand the reader might feel sympathetic towards the devas, and tries to alleviate their concerns by saying, "Hey, they can't show emotions, so don't worry."

    Also, I was aiming more for intense or heavy, but bitter works.

    This is another really interesting moment, where we realize thatn oh yeah, having no free will means never learning anything, or maybe even having any concept of self, for that matter.
    *that

    I know you're eager to get to the ass-kicking, but commas are your friends. Writing a fast-paced scene doesn't mean you have to do the actual writing at top speed.
    This is probably a result of my current writing process. I create the entire story in my mind, scene for scene. Then, I type it here on the site. Then, I post it. No rough draft or what-not. Just right here. Sometimes, when I wait for someone to comment on it, I read through it once and fix things here and there. When you commented on it, I only did one proof reading. I still missed a few things, obviously.

    Eh? Why are we suddenly in another tense?
    Darn it. I thought I fixed my tense problems.

    You never explain this. Why do you never explain this?
    I added in an explanation, or why there is no explanation. The scene is meant to illustrate that he now understands the concept of planning. I do this by showing Jack preemptively foiling Asmodeus's plans.

    Noooooo. You don't tell people how to pronounce Asmodeus, do you? Pronunciation guides do not belong in a narrative (unless you can get them into dialogue without making a fuss about it).
    Seemed like a good idea at the time.

    That... sounds like you just slaughtered most of a nation. Is that true?
    Not an entire nation. Just the king and all who were loyal to him. About four hundred people over a region the size of Quebec (not the city).

    Sounds more like Retribution to me. Hard to see such a mass slaughter as a mere act of Judgment, and it doesn't seem to fit with the earlier part of the narrative (his war against Hell), either. I don't think even Justice necessarily fits there, and Justice feels like it goes hand-in-hand with Judgment. Also, there's only one 'e' in that word. I do appreciate the tie-in to the free-will theme, though; that's definitely something the Judgment portfolio has going for it.
    Would be if his sole reason for doing it was because they killed his master (also Retribution was taken). It might have been easier to understand if I added in how he passes judgement. He takes the whole "weighed in the balance" thing seriously. I would have put it in, but it was starting to get lengthy. (Check my next answer for more.)

    Great moment--as readers we suddenly realize that he would never have been given a name properly. It does beg the question though--what did he do all those years before people called him Jack? What did he call himself? Overall, very good snippet; you explain all your key concepts very clearly and do a really good job hitting the reader every so often with revelations about the alien nature of the character and his whole history and existence.
    Thanks. Out of all my characters Jack has the most backstory. You only got a small taste of his history. If I was to add in all things of Jack's past it would be a novel, not a snippet. So, I had to decide on the best of the highlights, squeeze this part here into a shorter segment, cut this, is this important, argh. In the end, I was praying that the character Jack would come through in this snippet.


    The Plane of Tournaments
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    Not going to actually critique this one per se. I do like it though. Also, lol kitten damage. Do the kittens stay around or do they vanish after getting their allotted scratches in?
    I will tell once someone actually buys one. Right now, I treat it like a weapon that castes "Summon Household Ally 0" and summons a kitten for 1d4+(1 per every 2 character levels) rounds.


    Cronc Goes to the WWE
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    *shakes.
    "shacks" Did I really type shacks. What did she do? Throw a ramshackle tool shed at her face? Oh, my God. I did this multiple times. *facepalm to me.

    Weird subject/timing things going on here. If it was void of food before, why didn't you tell us? And if it wasn't, why didn't we get to see Cronc flip it?
    Lol. Flipping tables. Classic.

    Is there some kind of quiet capslock shouting I should be aware of? Also, "moving his body"? Give me something more descriptive than that.
    Defense - First Part:
    Is your objection due to the word "shouts" or "loudly". I said "shouts loudly" to inform the reader that he became even louder.

    Defense - Second Part:
    I prefer to let the readers imagine the scene and the gestures of the characters within beyond just how I describe it. They are going to do that anyhow. Heck, I do that anyhow.

    How many does he have? "Right hooks" or something of the kind I would understand. "Right hands" sounds anatomically inefficient.
    Defense:
    I have heard the expression "throwing right hands" many times and it has never confused me. It means hitting someone with the right hand many times. I have even heard this expression on WWE.

    The first part of this is really hard to visualize, but I don't know how it can be improved. Maybe it would be best just to drop some of the accuracy for the sake of readability. Also the last sentence is priceless.
    I didn't like it, either. I kept reading over it again and again, but couldn't fix it. I did a rewrite of it in my fixes.

    What? That's simply nonsensical; we see Cronc get the stuffing beaten out of him and he lies on the ground for a full eight-count, yet we're supposed to believe he's also "quick to his feet"?
    Ring-out count, not TKO count. I thought the context was enough to explain it. Both Cronc and Ryback were fighting out of the ring for some time. Ryback rolls Cronc back inside, but since Ryback is still outside the ring, he could end up losing by count-out unless he gets back inside before a count of ten. The eight shows how close it was.

    Well obviously. Loved this one! I'd still totally read Cronc Goes to Jail for Killing WWE Superstars though.
    Glad you enjoyed it. I had fun writing it. I am not going to do Cronc Goes to Jail for Killing WWE Superstars. I might do a sequel to this one instead, but that is later. There is still plenty of weird odd-ball settings I could throw Cronc into and let hilarity/devastation ensue. I'm going to work on some ideas.

    Some of Murphy's other laws.
    "Professionals are predictable, but the world is full of amateurs."
    "No plan survives the first contact intact."
    "If it's stupid, but it works, it isn't stupid."
    -Capt. Edward A. Murphy-
    Newton's Law of the Road
    "The object with more mass has the right-of-way."

  3. - Top - End - #333
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    @mebecronck
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    *that
    I have no regrets.Unless you find a typo in a snippet of mine. I'd regret that.

    Is your objection due to the word "shouts" or "loudly".
    My objection is to both of them being used at once, describing a sentence in all-caps. It's just redundant, and a little jarring--if he's getting louder, just say that.

    Ring-out count, not TKO count.
    Ahh. I suspect my misinterpretation is partially due to my astounding lack of WWE knowledge, but even knowing what the intent was, the timing of the count being mentioned was a little funky. The lack-of-knowledge bit applies to the "throwing right hands" bit too, although I still think that's a really bizarre phrase.
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  4. - Top - End - #334
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    @ Dr Bwaa

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    My objection is to both of them being used at once, describing a sentence in all-caps. It's just redundant, and a little jarring--if he's getting louder, just say that.
    Ah, I get your point now. I'll fix it.

    Ahh. I suspect my misinterpretation is partially due to my astounding lack of WWE knowledge, but even knowing what the intent was, the timing of the count being mentioned was a little funky. The lack-of-knowledge bit applies to the "throwing right hands" bit too, although I still think that's a really bizarre phrase.
    I can see that. I added a scene earlier, where the ref starts to count-out, to give it more context.

    Oh, before I forget, I didn't answer your question about what people called him before he gained his name. The pretty much referred to him by job title. As an apprentice they called him, "Hey! Apprentice!" As a tradesman, he was called "Blacksmith" or "Baker" or "Stonemason" or "You get the idea".

    Let me know what you think of the changes. Better or worse.
    Last edited by mebecronck; 2012-11-21 at 03:02 PM.

    Some of Murphy's other laws.
    "Professionals are predictable, but the world is full of amateurs."
    "No plan survives the first contact intact."
    "If it's stupid, but it works, it isn't stupid."
    -Capt. Edward A. Murphy-
    Newton's Law of the Road
    "The object with more mass has the right-of-way."

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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    @mebecronck
    I'll give your stuff another read tonight hopefully; otherwise I'll definitely have some time tomorrow to let you know what I think about the changes.

    @Anyone who was waiting to read my latest snippet, it's been edited and is good to go now (search a page or so ago for the word Death), so go do that and then come back here and tell me how cliche it is.

    And finally, a quick teaser for an upcoming snippet from me, because I'm doing all this writing so you guys might as well get to see a few pieces of it (even if it's horrible and completely unedited!).

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    He stood abruptly, beginning to pace a short line beside the table as he continued. “That’s why, Miss Vrenn, I am giving you a second chance to prove that you are worthy of a Spellguard post by autumn.” He turned to her, and her eyes widened in return, staring at the older man in frank astonishment. “As I said before, you are a very promising young woman, and I’m sure that you’re physically capable of learning the required skills, if only you would commit to them with the same... intensity with which I am told you pursue your arcane studies. What do you think-- would you like to have a second chance?”

    The room suddenly felt much closer than it had when she'd arrived ten minutes before. Laelah swallowed hard, meeting the general's unblinking iron eyes. “Yes, sir. Whatever the price to restore my good name, I will pay it.”
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  6. - Top - End - #336
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    Alright then. I once again have three ideas for the next snippet I will write.

    First, and my favorite choice, is a look into the life of Lue-Lee Gunner. However it is pretty dark, and if it were a movie, it would definitely be R-Rated. I'm not sure how this thread would respond to mature subject matter.

    Second, is the sequel to "Cronc Goes to the WWE". Being that Lue-Lee is a major character in the story I would think that you might want to read her tale first, and get to understand her character better. So, I might wait off on this one.

    Finally, an in depth description to The Monastery and The Island. I have been promising that for a while, but I keep getting side-tracked.

    What do you want? Let me know. I won't be writing all three at once again.

    Some of Murphy's other laws.
    "Professionals are predictable, but the world is full of amateurs."
    "No plan survives the first contact intact."
    "If it's stupid, but it works, it isn't stupid."
    -Capt. Edward A. Murphy-
    Newton's Law of the Road
    "The object with more mass has the right-of-way."

  7. - Top - End - #337
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    I'm up for any and all of 'em. As far as subject matter goes, as long as you avoid breaking forum rules you can do whatever you want to do here.

    EDIT: But if you want me to pick one, I'd say go with Lue-Lee's background. Sounds fun
    Last edited by Dr Bwaa; 2012-11-23 at 12:16 PM.
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  8. - Top - End - #338
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    @Dr Bwaa
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    Not unusually large or otherwise physically outstanding, his uniqueness was discovered, instead, a few months into his life, when, at the age of four months, he spontaneously asked his mother for some stew, please.
    This seems like it could be broken up into smaller sentences. A lot of sentences in this snippet are like this actually. Also, lol.

    Brygar continued to show an incredible propensity for learning. He consumed knowledge, seeking it from anyone who would listen and pushing himself to understand. Not only that, but he had another trait for which his parents were always grateful—he never got sick. Not once, not even a sniffle.
    God I hope this gets explained. I know it doesn't in this snippet, but later. Otherwise, this baby is creepy as all hell and I don't understand why the people of his village don't assume he's some kind of demon.

    Here, his unfaltering fortitude failed him for the first time, as Brygar first discovered what it was to be sick—lovesick, anyway.
    Dawwww

    Brygar, though, was singleminded in his intent. All he would say was, "I want only to learn to provide for a wife as deserving as Felira."
    What's so great about Felira again? All we've got so far is she's beautiful. I know usually a woman being beautiful in a story like this is enough, but we get to see more of their relationship later on and they seem to connect on a deeper level than that. A few sentences hinting at that earlier would make more sense. Otherwise, I'm inclined to agree with the townsfolk that he's wasting his potential on her.

    Little Maiko was the spitting image of his namesake, but with his father’s eyes and precocious appetite for learning.
    Does this mean he's talking and furrowing his brow and all the other things Brygar did? Because even the second time, that's pretty noteworthy.

    Rare flowers, indeed—but Black Tuberose was nothing he'd ever planted... Indeed, Black Tuberose was often seen as an ill omen by those inclined to believe such things, but Brygar was not much taken by omens and portents, and made a mental note to transplant the seedling to a more appropriate party of the garden—Tuberose needed full sun, and here this little sprout was on the wrong side of the house!
    Ooooooh crap. I just thought the whole bit where he's approaching the house, knowing something is wrong but putting it out of his mind, was just brilliant. The bit about the Black Tuberose was my favorite. The way you draw it out and build the tension is really great.

    She stood, then, too. "Oh, well. I guess there's just no fooling you, is there? You can wash it and wash it, but it just doesn't come out!" She loosed a harsh laugh; a grin that didn’t belong on her sweet face. She lunged for him, then, and something truly wild was in her eyes.
    Love this too. Evil Felira is creepy and awesome. It would be even more effective with a bit more of a description of her true personality as I suggested previously, but either way does the job.

    “A man who has been turned to the Dark is no man; nor a woman a woman; nor a child a child: he is, and shall forever be, a Stalker in the Night.”
    ...is it a vampire? It sounds like a vampire. If it is, why don't you call it that?

    Unable to look any further; unable to do anything at all, Brygar turned to the woods, and he ran.
    ...dude. Your kid. What about your kid? Did he find him dead and I didn't notice? If it were me, I'd at least look for him even though practically he's almost certainly dead.

    Anyway, I really enjoyed reading this. It's the kind of balls-horrifying tragedy that I have come to expect from good character back stories.


    @mebecronc
    You May Call Me Jack
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    You may call me Jack, but it is important to note that Jack is not my real name. It is the name given to me by a friend, and the name to which I answer, but not my true name. For I am a deva and a deific entity. So knowing and utilising my true name would hold power over me.
    I feel like "You may call me Jack" is enough to know that it isn't his real name, and I don't know why he would volunteer the information that his true name holds power over him. Seems like a rather dangerous way to introduce oneself.

    ...all these things were dictated our deity.
    Does he not know his deity's name? Also, you do a great job describing his life before he had free will.

    For a time, I am not sure how long, all I did was contemplate it. The questions surfacing in my mind over and over again. "What do I do?" "What is His will?" Instinct made me stand at attention, perfectly still, and wait for the answer to arrive, but my time spent was uneasy.
    This strikes me as hilarious.

    I imagine the sight of a deva standing over the lifeless body of the Lord of the Nine Hells was somewhat intimidating to them.
    Just a bit.

    Near the end, instead of fighting, Asmodeus begged for me to stop. He commanded his devils to slow me down enough so that he may plea with me. To reason with me.
    Terrifying.

    He also explained to me that Asmodeus is a deific entity as well and each time I killed him I gained some of his deific power.
    Does this mean Jack owns part of the hells?

    I regarded him as Master, and bowed to him in reverence whenever I addressed him.
    If this guy knew that his apprentice was a god...



    @Other people
    It's occurring to me that my snippets are really long, and now there are a lot of them. Not really something I would expect people to be interested in reading all the way through. Is there anyone who would be willing to read/critique my more recent snippets if I wrote up a summary of the old ones?
    Last edited by PaperMustache; 2012-11-23 at 12:28 AM.

  9. - Top - End - #339
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    @PM
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    This seems like it could be broken up into smaller sentences. A lot of sentences in this snippet are like this actually.
    I think I have a problem. This is not the first time I've considered writing a script to "validate" my writing by checking for stuff like this--sentences longer than 20 words (or less, depending on the tone I'm going for), or a hundred characters, or some other simple things. Maybe it's about that time again.

    God I hope this gets explained. I know it doesn't in this snippet, but later. Otherwise, this baby is creepy as all hell and I don't understand why the people of his village don't assume he's some kind of demon.
    Well, it's explained in my brain, isn't that good enough? Later chapters don't currently include an explanation, but they do have some validation at least. I'll see what I can do (because you're totally right).

    What's so great about Felira again?
    Uhh... hrm. She has other characteristics, I swear. Totally wasn't conceived as a throwaway character with no purpose other than to die traumatizing the hero, that's for sure.

    Does this mean he's talking and furrowing his brow and all the other things Brygar did? Because even the second time, that's pretty noteworthy.
    I will clarify this (both to myself and in the narrative).

    Ooooooh crap. I just thought the whole bit where he's approaching the house, knowing something is wrong but putting it out of his mind, was just brilliant. The bit about the Black Tuberose was my favorite. The way you draw it out and build the tension is really great.
    I'm glad you liked this part

    It would be even more effective with a bit more of a description of her true personality as I suggested previously, but either way does the job.
    What, you mean you're having trouble getting attached to a character who I spent exactly six words describing? I'll try to work up the scene when the two of them meet or something; that was really bad of me lol.

    ...is it a vampire? It sounds like a vampire. If it is, why don't you call it that?
    It is; I wanted (A) Brygar to be recalling an overly-florid vampire "synonym" like you get in cheesy literature, and (B) not to give it away explicitly before he kills her (even though the audience will presumably be 99% sure anyway), which is why I take such completely irrelevant steps earlier on to allude to the sunlight being important. I guess I should find a way to clarify what's going on in (A) to avoid this being the overly-florid cheesy literature, huh?

    ...dude. Your kid. What about your kid? Did he find him dead and I didn't notice? If it were me, I'd at least look for him even though practically he's almost certainly dead.
    Yeah, you caught me. So, the thing I screwed up when I originally posted this snippet was having Brygar and Felira happily married for several years, and expecting the reader to believe that (A) they never had any children, and (B) the nosy townsfolk never thought to take note of that fact. Honestly, Maiko Jr. should probably be older, too, but I kind of slapped him in there and because I have the rest of Brygar's story drafted already, I needed a way to make sure that Brygar, at least, thought he was dead (but ideally the reader should realize that there's a chance that he's still alive, so he can show up later in-game as the equally-gifted long-lost son with a grudge against his father if the DM feels like it). I decided to go with Maiko simply missing, and Felira uses Evil Grin when Brygar asks her where their son is for the second time.

    It is actually indicated that his son is missing, but it's pretty subtle--I guess that's the sort of thing that needs a little more explicit action on Brygar's part regardless, but I didn't want to break up his grief in the last scene. I felt like if he searched the house for Maiko after staking Felira, he'd be more likely to drop where he was when he realizes his son is gone, rather than running into the forest and getting lost like I need him to. As it stands at the moment, Brygar enters the house, doesn't see anything of consequence in the kitchen (which is a really random observation; probably the house should be described more concretely before this), and then finds Felira in the bedroom. She tells him Maiko is in the kitchen, which he doesn't react to at all even though he was just there (d'oh). Then when they head outside, she pushes Brygar "through the empty kitchen" (this house's floor plan is really unclear/contradictory, isn't it? Whoops). Anyway, I'll see if I can work something out.

    Anyway, I really enjoyed reading this. It's the kind of balls-horrifying tragedy that I have come to expect from good character back stories.
    Glad you enjoyed it! (Despite the various obviously-missing descriptions, lol) And don't worry: there's more abuse for Brygar where this came from (though nothing else quite so personal). The current draft of the rest of his background is pretty much just me beating on him for another 14296 words ().

    ...So yeah; hope you feel like doing some reading over the next month or two, because like you said, probably not a whole lot of readers on here looking to get involved in that Thank you so much for this one, for that matter!
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  10. - Top - End - #340
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    Destiny Part 1
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    We spent a few days resupplying in Driscoll before setting off again. Milo spent most of his time rifling through the Brotherhood's records, and was sure that he had found us some lucrative work. There was a pirate lord who plagued the western coast with a considerable bounty on his head. The inquisitor seemed unusually focused and insistent on pursuing this mark. I suspected he knew more about the man than he let on, but the pay was legitimate and I had no reason to object. I could do my work anywhere I had access to a mirror.

    The Brotherhood provided us with a wagon and fresh horses, but Variel insisted on keeping his mount.

    "This horse is a true hero." he insisted to anyone who questioned his decision, "Didn't spook or anything when those mirror wizards attacked us. A good mount like this is hard to come by."

    No one cared to part the amiable barbarian from his "hero horse", although Master Yu brought up the point that he should at least be trained for combat if we were going to keep him long. Variel liked this idea, but we had stayed in this town too long to justify another week for horse training.

    "Next town, buddy." Variel smiled, patting hero horse as we rode out, "I'll find you a good trainer."

    I sat in the wagon most traveling days, meditating the way my sister had shown me. This time, however, I had no trouble concentrating. It was not some nebulous concept of a deity I was contemplating after all, but the mind of the man in black. With each attempt it became easier and easier to bypass his mental barriers, even as sifting through his madness became more and more difficult. Sometimes I could almost feel myself getting closer to where his conscious mind must be, but I would always falter before I could break through. Most times I would only manage to piece together strings of words spoken in foreign languages, or not at all. The chaos and impenetrability of it was frustrating, but I was up to the challenge.

    "What are you doing?" a voice jolted me from my concentration.

    "Meditating." I muttered, not opening my eyes. I could feel myself getting closer. I was desperate not to miss my chance.

    "On what?" Milo's suspicious drawl cut through my focus once again.

    "Spells." I lied, straining to keep my consciousness rooted in the madness.

    "Thought only wizards had to do that. You're a sorcerer." he insisted, "What are you really meditating on?" I opened one eye to glare at him.

    "Evil." I replied through clenched teeth.

    He let out an exasperated sigh before leaving me in peace. Glad to be rid of him, I returned to my task. Milo's interruption had set me back. I let myself drift through the seemingly endless insanity for a while. I wasn't getting any closer, but I had grown strangely fond of the experience. The nonsense words, the way my thoughts reflected off of each other before spinning away from me, the ever changing chaos of the storm. I may as well have been preparing spells as a wizard did, for all the power I could feel always just outside of my grasp. Even though it wasn’t his true mind, the man’s genius resided within his insanity.

    "Goblins!" a voice that did not belong to the madness shouted.

    "Squawk!" responded another.

    "We can't outrun them. Help me stow the wagon so we aren't over run." Variel's orders jolted me back to myself. I scurried out to join my companions.

    "Kepesk, cover it as best as you can with brush. They're gaining on us quickly." he snapped, "Milo, find a good vantage point. Master Yu, with me."

    We fell into our positions as quickly as we could. My brush disguise would not fool them for long. Variel drew his curved blade and stood at the ready alongside the unarmed tengu. I ran to join them.

    "Kepesk. Get back with Milo." Variel growled.

    "Protection spell, idiot." I snapped back, putting a hand on each of their shoulders and casting the spell. "Besides, my claws are as sharp as your sword."

    "They really aren't." he muttered.

    "Squawk!" Master Yu shrieked before I could protest. The goblins had arrived, creeping out of the brush in groups. First there were two, then four, then six. They kept coming. I felt my courage leave me.

    Variel flashed a feral smile before charging the first line if goblins, letting out a fearsome battle cry.

    "Squawk!" Master Yu screamed in response, following on his heels.

    I took a healthy step back as an arrow whizzed past me into the gut of an advancing goblin. I spotted Milo as he reloaded, perched upon a tree branch.

    Each goblin Variel put to his blade fell effortlessly. Master Yu moved among the foes deftly, snatching the weapons from their hands. Still more came, chanting in the guttural goblin tongue. It seemed we had attracted the attention of an entire tribe of the unpleasant little beasts. I sent a small missile of force energy into the fray, felling one just before Variel could finish him off.

    I huffed in frustration, scanning the line of goblins as they advanced. They were many, but weak and stupid. They had the numbers to outmatch us in combat, but their tactics were poor. Ignoring the more subtle maneuvers they were failing to perform, there were four or five of them who wasted their efforts constructing some sort of shrine on the battlefield. We made short work of the remaining combatants and advanced upon those who prepared the shrine. It had begun to take shape, and on closer inspection resembled some sort of warhorn. It was oversized for a goblin, but would have fit comfortably in a human hand. It was a handsome piece, much more attractive than anything of goblin make. Probably stolen. The remaining goblins attempted to flee. Variel made a lunge for the slowest among them, wrestling it to the ground as it screamed and bit at his arms. I approached our new prisoner with a smile on my lips, glad for the chance to be of some use.

    “Goblin no be prisoner! You let goblin go or goblin eat you good!” the little stump of a creature babbled. I silenced him with a simple charm designed to fool the target into thinking I was his friend.

    “Of course… goblin no prisoner.” I staggered through my limited knowledge of the goblin tongue, all languages originated from the draconic after all, “goblin… tell friend where tribe be?” The prisoner regarded me with beady eyes that gave away no hint at intelligence.

    “Dat be goblin’s whole tribe! You just see! Goblin gonna call Big Chief. Gonna kill friend good!” he replied. Charming. Had he just insinuated that he could summon his chief?

    “Erm…you call chief how?” I asked, “How Big Chief know to come?”

    “Big boom! Horn make chief come!” the little monster replied.

    “You can kill him now.” I reported in common to my companions, “He doesn’t know anything. The horn summons some sort of monster I think. He says it’s their chief.”

    “Who said anything about killing him?” Variel protested, “You just made friends with him.”

    “The charm won’t last forever.” I muttered, “it’s a goblin, you just killed fifteen just like him. They’re worth two for a copper.” The soft-hearted barbarian did not seem comfortable with my reasoning. Fine. I grabbed our prisoner by the neck and thrust it against a tree, summoning my draconic claws for added effect. The offensive action broke my charm, but I was stronger than I looked and the goblin could not break free from my grasp.

    “Listen, little goblin.” I growled in its miserable tongue, “You go home. You tell other goblins they no attack wagon. If we see any little goblins, we bring storm down on puny goblin heads.” I sent a jolt of electricity into the little wretch to show I was serious before dropping it unceremoniously. It scampered off, cursing in goblin. Variel looked pleased. He scooped up the unfinished warhorn and began to fiddle with it. He seemed to know how to fit the pieces together intuitively. When he was finished, he held it up to us.

    “Anyone want to fight a goblin king?” he offered with a smile. It was merely a rhetorical question, as he did not pause long enough for us to respond before putting the thing to his lips.

    The horn sounded with a deep, clear tone. The skies darkened around us and the winds began to pick up. Only now did it occur to me that the item might actually be magical, rather than the product of some primitive goblin superstition. A quick spell revealed its magical nature immediately. It was stronger than anything I had witnessed outside of the realm of mirrors. Before I could warn Variel, a bolt of lightning crashed down from the gathering storm clouds above, engulfing him and leaving nothing in his place. The barbarian was gone, dust and smoke hung in the air where he had stood. The rest of us could muster no response other than to gape in confusion and fear.

    We stood frozen for a moment as we composed ourselves. The storm did not let up. It occurred to me that Variel might have been transported somewhere by the artifact, but I did not have the magic to track his whereabouts. I convinced the rest of the party to wait and see if he came back. We were forced to take shelter in the wagon until the storm died down.

    After an hour of waiting with no sign of our friend, we were forced to consider the possibility that he was gone for good. I helped Master Yu to coax Hero Horse forward as we resumed our journey in silence. Milo sat in the back of the wagon with me, but neither of us had anything to say to one another. I considered resuming my meditation, but my heart wasn’t in it. I thought I hated Variel for burning the scroll in Driscoll, but now that he was gone I would kill to have him back. I looked over at Milo. He was staring intently at the passing scenery, looking miserable. I realized I didn’t hate him either.

    “It’ll be okay.” I offered, scooting closer to him.

    “No it won’t.” he muttered back. I paused before responding. Variel was not only a friend to us, but a protector and a leader as well. What would we do if we were attacked again on the road?

    “No it won’t.” I sighed back.

    “He was going to help me finish off the bastard who killed my wife.” He muttered. I noticed a coin in his hand, a symbol of luck for a follower of Desna.

    I wanted to say something encouraging, just to give myself something to do. Influencing the attitudes of others was usually so easy for me, but now I was at a loss. How could I reassure this thrice damned inquisitor when I couldn’t reassure myself? I gave up, leaving Milo to his sulking and retreating to the opposite end of the wagon.

    I threw myself into my journal. It was originally intended as a sort of extended letter to my sister that I would give to her if ever I saw her again, but lately it had been serving a more practical use. I had written a profile of each of my companions, as many wizards as I could speak with in Driscoll, and all I knew of the man in black. This was for my benefit, not my master’s. It helped me devise strategies for dealing with each of them if they ever turned on me. I also kept a record of towns and cities that were poorly managed by the Brotherhood. That part was for the man in black, he would have an easier time recruiting followers in such areas. I flipped quickly past Variel’s entry, dreading the thought of updating it, and turned to Milo’s. I added the bit about his wife, confirming my suspicions of his connection to the pirate lord.

    “Squawk!” Master Yu’s cry shook me from my writing just before a peel of thunder shook the wagon. I stashed the journal and ran outside to assess the situation.

    There, standing before the baffled tengu, was Variel. His clothing was charred, he was disheveled and covered with dirt, but he was alive. He regarded us with a grin, and there was an intensity in his eyes that I had never seen there before. In his hands was a new sword, etched with runes and crackling every so often with electricity. I could have hugged him right there, just for being alive, but something held me back. I checked him for magical influence. No compulsions, thankfully, but the sword was of stronger magic even than the horn had been. Its influence radiated outward, cloaking my friend in its strange power.

    “Variel!” I managed, “Where have you been?”

    “I have been to the seat of Alithor, legendary blade of the Thunderlord.” He responded with pride, “It has chosen me as its wielder.”

    “For three hours?” Milo ventured. Variel furrowed his brow at this.

    “Uh... it felt more like three minutes.” He chuckled sheepishly.

    “Whatever. Nice sword. Can we get back to killing the pirate lord?” Milo bit back. I didn’t understand why he was being so short. Variel looked hurt. He hesitated before responding.

    “About that…” the barbarian muttered, losing confidence, “I can’t go to the coast with you.”

    He explained that something bad was coming to the barbarian tribes in the north, and that it was his destiny to see them through it. He seemed to fancy himself some kind of legendary ruler of the tribes, fated to unite them under his own banner. While I could certainly admire his sudden ambition, the thought struck me as foolish. A weapon of great power would not convince a horde of savages to follow him, nor would it give him the ability to lead them. Still, if it was important to Variel how could we abandon him? Besides, there was a huge trade city in the region, Amolarr, which I had always wanted to see.

    “No.” Milo said firmly once the story was finished, “I’m sticking with the plan. Anyone who wants to get killed by a bunch of savages can be my guest. Anyone who wants to actually get paid can come with me.” There was an awkward silence as Milo glared us down. Master Yu looked conflicted, Variel looked guilty, I rolled my eyes.

    “Of course we’re sticking with Variel.” I growled. As I said it, Master Yu looked more convinced and Variel flashed me a grateful smile.

    “Fine.” Milo spat back, climbing back into the wagon, “You can drop me off at the next town.”

    This.. can you call it a chapter? "Destiny" is my version of the events that Xerinous will be writing about. If what he writes conflicts with anything I wrote here, assume he's right and I'll go back and change mine to match. It's only going to have two parts if I can help it.

  11. - Top - End - #341
    Halfling in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    Okay, as promised; Variel's point of view on the events following Driscoll. Well, the first part, anyway.

    The Rising Storm
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    In a frozen land, far to the north, a man sits beside a campfire with his companions. His angular features and slightly pointed ears mark him as something more than a human, and his bearing is that of one used to authority. Not far from where he sits, a large blade, very nearly crackling with power, rests in a scabbard of white dragon leather. This man is Variel, Lord of Thunder, leader of the Northern Tribes.

    One of his companions asks him for a story. He briefly ponders which of his tales to share before settling on one that never fails to entertain. "Alright then," he replies, "I'll tell you the tale of how I became the Thunder Lord."

    He stares into the fire for a few moments, gathering his memories. "It happened shortly after we helped the mages of Driscoll settle their differences…"

    ...

    We had just been accepted into the Brotherhood, a secretive organization based in Driscoll, although conscripted might be a better word for it. Either way, we had been given access to some of their resources, a fact that Milo, my perhaps over-zealous friend, took advantage of. He pulled what information he could out of the Brotherhood's contacts in order to track down a man with whom he had a personal feud. A man he'd sworn an oath of vengeance against. The man who'd killed his wife.

    It turned out that this man, Red Jack, was a pirate, and that he'd been terrorizing the western coast for some time now. There was a sizable bounty on his head, which was how Milo sold the others in our group on going after him. Admittedly, the wounded bird man who had recently joined up with us, Master Yu, didn't need much convincing, having heard rumors that his missing apprentice had gone west. I doubt that Kepesk, however, would have gone on a quest for vengeance without some kind of personal gain coming from it.

    Once everyone was in agreement on our next job, we determined that we would head out a few days later, so that we had time to prepare ourselves for the coming trials. During that time, we met a wandering swordsman of celestial descent who introduced himself as Okrin. He was also going West, and asked to travel with us in case of trouble on the road. Kepesk seemed a little put off by him, but the rest of us had no qualms with him accompanying us, and so we agreed to let him do so.

    The first few days of the journey were uneventful. The largest disturbance to the quiet, and the most frequent, was that of Milo and Kepesk bickering over some small thing or another. The rest of us largely ignored the two, not really understanding what they were going on about, or why.

    About halfway to the port where we'd be finding a ship to bear us to our fight, as we walked between a pair of hills, we were ambushed by goblins. They began raining arrows down upon us from atop the hills, or trying to. Goblins, as it is known, are not the best archers.

    Milo began firing crossbow bolts up the hills, as Kepesk started casting spells. Neither seemed to be having much of an effect, as the arrows continued to fall, so the rest of us moved to strike. Okrin drew his great sword, which immediately burst into flame, as he spread his wings and flew to the top of the right hill, cutting a goblin in half as he landed. Master Yu followed him, running up the slope with light steps, flexing his hands as he went to loosen the muscles, shattering another goblin's face with his feathered fist as he arrived. Deciding they could handle that group of goblins, I charged up the left hill, discarding further rationality as I let my rage at the cowardice of these goblins boil my blood. My father's curved blade in hand, I reached the top of the hill and began cutting down goblins.

    When the goblins on the other hill had been slain, the rest of them, those still left on my hill, began attempting to flee. We managed to capture or kill all of them, and we recovered from them a majestic horn, in two pieces, that they had been trying to put together. According to one of the prisoners, the horn would call their leader. Something in the back of my mind told me that it would do no such thing, but it seemed like nothing more than a hunch, at the time.

    We let the captured goblins go, after convincing them that we would return to kill them should they return to ambushing travelers. This left us with something of a dilemma. We had this massive war horn of fantastic craftsmanship, that might or might not actually call some fearsome creature fully intending to murder us, should we sound it. There was some debate on whether or not we should assemble and sound it, but in the end we decided to go ahead and do so. After all, very few creatures couldn't get a bunch of goblins to follow them, and we could almost certainly handle anything that did show up.

    So we put the pieces together. They came together seamlessly. If I hadn't seen the two pieces separately, I wouldn't have believed that it could come apart. I was chosen to be the one sounding it, as I was the only one with any real experience using horns.

    There was something off about the sound from the horn. I don't know if the others noticed, but seeming to lie beneath the normal sound of a horn, I heard distant thunder, and the howl of wind. Almost immediately after sounding the horn, the sky began to darken. The wind picked up, and lightning could be seen arcing between the clouds.

    And then the bolt hit me.

    A single bolt of lightning seemed to engulf me. I blinked and suddenly I was somewhere else.

    I was in some kind of great hall, light seeming to come from nowhere and from everywhere. Statues lined the walls, of different people, yet all holding the same sword with the tip grounded. At the end of the hall, there stood a single statue that broke the pattern. The same sword was in its hands, but it held the blade up, as if ready to fight. Near its feet, I could see something shining.

    As I wandered up the hall, I felt as though the statues on either side were watching me, judging my worth. On the right side of the hall, there was a lone empty pedestal, seeming to be awaiting a new statue. I continued my advance between the stone sentinels, and the shining object came into focus.

    It was a the same blade held by the all of the statues, a great sword with glowing runes etched into the blade. The sword rested upon a pedestal made of stone. Words carved into the pedestal proclaimed it to be Alithor, Blade of the Thunder Lord. Not seeing any other reason for me to have been brought to this place, I reached out and grabbed Alithor's hilt.

    Thunder was in my ears, and lightning ran through my veins. It was the most painful experience of my life, as if my entire self were being torn to pieces by some great storm. And, as suddenly as it had begun, it ended.

    With a dazzling flash, I found myself returned to my friends, Alithor in hand.They seemed astounded to see me still alive, apparently I'd been gone for hours. It had only seemed like a few minutes to me.

    After calming the others down, I explained some of what my ownership of the sword meant. I held back some of the implications, though. Telling them too much of the legend would place too much of a burden upon them. I knew, though, that I had a lot of work ahead of me, to truly live up to the mantle of the Thunder Lord.



    At this, the Thunder Lord trails off, much to the disappointment of the others. He fends them off, however, promising to continue the tale another night.
    Tired soldier avatar by the excellent TinyMushroom.
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  12. - Top - End - #342
    Firbolg in the Playground
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    How did I not know of this thread before? Madness. This seems like it'll be a good way to practice writing and keep up mah skillz. You can expect to hear more from me soon.... Yes, soon... *steeples fingers*
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  13. - Top - End - #343
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    First, my stuff. I've got another (badly unedited, please forgive me) snippet:

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    Despite the pain of her injuries, when the healer arrived, Laelah refused magical treatment, insisting repeatedly that she go to the infirmary to recover naturally. After a brief inspection to ensure that her wounds were not serious--during which Laelah looked away and said nothing besides “I’m fine”--the young medic relented, offering repeatedly to support her as he and Nari led her, limping, off the field.

    When the nurse on duty in the infirmary had finished fussing and cleaning and bandaging the long slashes on Laelah’s leg and stomach; when Nari had left her side to get dinner, promising to bring something back; when Laelah was finally alone in her small cot in the non-critical ward, she allowed herself a few silent tears as she replayed the afternoon’s events in her mind. She was in no hurry to get back to her quarters; no doubt word of her shame had already spread throughout the whole of the student body. She would face them tomorrow morning at the Palace. For now, she would rest, and as she lay there leaking tears into her pillow, she eventually drifted off into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

    The next morning came all too soon. Nari was there, rousing Laelah from her rest, making no mention of her red eyes and disheveled look. She’d brought a change of clothes for her friend; Laelah donned them wordlessly, pulling the fabric, unmarred by steel, over her bandages. Her leg was stiff and painful to walk on, but she would accept no help as they made their way across the city to the Palace in the silent predawn light.

    They were directed by an instructor Laelah didn’t recognize to the Great Hall[describe_earlier], where they found all the other Spellguard recruits seated at long tables expectantly. All heads turned to look at Laelah as she entered; she returned none of their glances as she and Nari made their way quickly to an empty pair of seats. The doors at the end of the hall opened just as the pair sat down, and Sus Korag, Lady Alustriel, all the Junior Instructors, and several other adults Laelah didn’t recognize entered the Hall together, taking seats at the staff table.

    When the murmur of excited voices had died down, the High Lady rose from her seat to address the gathered students.

    “All of you are here for different reasons. Some of you want to make some extra money; some simply need a source of income to continue on as a fellow after Graduation this summer. Many of you signed up for the Spellguard as a result of our recent troubles in the East. But what you all have in common is your excellent ability and your drive to protect our home and our people, and for that, I owe you my thanks. Congratulations, everyone!”

    Enthusiastic applause broke out across the room, and when it settled somewhat, Lady Alustriel continued, “Now, to tell you all about everything else you need to know, I’ll give the floor to Instructor Julian Orn.” She began a modest round of applause as the young instructor stood up, and then the High Lady retreated, smiling, back out the door.

    The unidentified adults turned out to be an assortment of active company officers representing the various troops stationed in the near-Silverymoon area. Many of the fresh recruits who were graduating this year would end up assigned to these companies over the course of the summer. Those students who still had a year left in the Academy, and those graduates who intended to stay on as fellows, would be serving the special group of retainers charged with the defense of the city proper, as they would have to remain nearby to continue their studies. This was the group from which instructors were drawn, though Laelah thought glumly that her chances of being picked for that particular role were pretty slim right about now.

    Julian’s talk went on rather longer than necessary, Laelah thought as they finally filed out of the High Palace and dispersed through the city towards the various dormitories. Going over the entire Spellguard Ethics Handbook seemed particularly needless, and she was certain that the same lecture would be given again at the start of the next academic year, when the details would actually be immediately relevant.

    Laelah hurried through the dormitory’s noisy common room with her head down, Nari remaining at her side in solidarity. When they arrived at their quarters, however, Nari stopped her in front of the door instead of opening it. “Look,” she said.

    Laelah raised her eyes to see an envelope affixed to the door, bearing her name in indigo ink and the seal of the Spellguard. She looked to her friend, who raised her eyebrows--no such letter had come for her. It came free from the door at Laelah’s touch, and she held it in both hands for several moments.

    Nari opened the door. “Come on,” she said, “let’s open it inside.” Laelah followed her numbly and sat down on the edge of her bed, still holding the letter without really looking at it.

    The Elven girl sat down next to her with a concerned look on her face. After a minute’s silence, she asked, “are you going to open it?”

    Laelah nodded slowly, drawing a small knife from its place in the drawer under the bed and carefully prying the flap open. A single piece of paper lay within; Laelah slipped it out and unfolded it to reveal a short message.

    Miss Laelah Vrenn,

    Please join me in my office in the High Palace at your convenience. There is a matter of some importance regarding your Spellguard career which we must discuss.

    Best Wishes,

    Gen Sus B. Korag, Master Instructor of the Spellguard

    Nari leaned in to read it over her shoulder while Laelah continued to stare deafly at the paper. When she’d finished, the Elven girl stood, took the paper firmly from Laelah’s hands, folded it up, and placed it back in its envelope on the stand beside the bed. Crouching in front of her friend, she put a hand on Laelah’s cheek.

    “Come on, V. Better you get this over with right away. Come on, I’ll walk down with you.”

    As they left the dormitory and set out across the city once again, Laelah could think of nothing she desired less than a private conversation with Master Korag about her future in the Spellguard. Despite Nari’s suggestions that perhaps he just wanted to ensure that Laelah would take the summer to train properly, or that he was worried about her health after what had happened yesterday, Laelah knew there was only one reason the head of the Spellguard would want to speak to her today.

    She had disgraced herself in the final test, invalidated all the work she’d done before. She would not be able to join the Spellguard after all. She would lose her scholarship to the Lady’s College, and with no Spellguard time to pay for it, she would have to withdraw from the school and find employment elsewhere, with no recommendations and a reputation as a liar. She’d never find a decent job, and she’d never again be permitted to study the Weave.

    “...V? Laelah!” A hand waved in front of her face.

    She looked up. “What is it, Nari?”

    Her friend sighed. “We’re here.” She held a hand in front of her, gesturing to the massive marble castle standing before them. “Are you sure you’re all right? You lost a lot of blood yesterday, you know. Do you want to get something to eat before we go in?”

    Laelah took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out in a rush and tossing her hair back. “No; I am fine. Let’s get this over with.”

    An usher directed them to the fourth floor of the central tower, where they found an antique-looking oaken door facing them across the immaculate marble landing. An engraved brass placard on the door read “General Sus Korag, Master Instructor”.

    “Do you want me to wait for you?” Nari asked, looking around at the broad, empty landing. “How long do you think he’ll keep you here?”

    “Not long,” Laelah replied scratchily. She cleared her throat. “But you need not wait for me. Thank you, Nari; I will see you at home.”

    Nari smiled, took Laelah’s hand and gave it a squeeze, and turned back down the stairs. “You’ll be fine, V,” she called back over her shoulder as she started the descent. “See you at home!”

    Laelah turned away from the staircases and toward the door. She looked a mess, she knew, but there was nothing for it now. She scrubbed her hands on her face and attempted to flatten her skirts for a moment before tossing her hair once more and stepping forward to knock on the heavy door. It swung open as she raised her hand.

    General Korag stood in the doorway, his gray-blue uniform and the wood-paneled room behind him making a striking contrast with the brilliant marble walls of the Palace, and an unreadable expression on his scarred face. “Come in, Miss Vrenn,” he rumbled, taking a step back into the room.

    Laelah followed him in, her eyes sweeping across the room as the general closed the heavy door behind her. A wide wooden desk and chair stood by the far wall, in front of a pair of windows and an immaculate circular painting of the landing just outside the office--a scrying glass, she realized. Closer to hand were five more chairs and a large, elliptical table with a variety of maps, reports, and a few scrolls littered about it. The walls were paneled with the same oak that the door was made of, and a large bookshelf with tracks in the dust in front of the recently-used volumes.

    “Have a seat,” Master Korag invited, indicating the high-backed chairs at the table, and drawing one up for himself. He sat down, leaning forward just slightly as Laelah pulled out a chair and settled into it, being careful to sit up very straight and make direct eye contact with the older man, determined not to waver in front of him.

    They sat in silence for a few moments before the general leaned back and shrugged his arms in front of him. “Miss Vrenn,” he rumbled finally, “you’re one of the brightest students ever to study at the Lady’s College; you know that. Certainly one of the most talented young magi to apply to the Spellguard. You have a rare dedication to the arts. I think you’ll be a terrific soldier; maybe an officer some day.”

    Laelah blinked. This was not at all how she’d expected this conversation to begin.

    “Alustriel has spoken very highly of you to me. I think you understand the sort of compliment that is in its own right, and I do not treat the Lady’s advice lightly.

    “But by the gods, girl, you can’t fight to save your own damn life!” Laelah shrank back in her chair at the sudden change in tone, suddenly conscious of the fresh wound across her stomach. “Relying on magical enhancements to pick up a sword? Tapping in so often you nearly pass out in the face of antimagic? I can’t put you in a platoon like that, claiming you’re a Spellguard; you’d be a damned liability!

    “Did you think you’d have time to learn to fight correctly over the summer, when you had a break from your studies?” Laelah opened her mouth, but the general was not finished. “Of course not; you thought you’d found a way out of having to train at all, having to sweat and bleed every single day just to be competent with a weapon.”

    He leaned forward again; Laelah didn’t move. “This isn’t a game, you know. Being a Spellguard isn’t something you just test into and then brag about. Do you have any idea what can happen on a tour of duty, even in peacetime?

    “We live in a dangerous world, Miss Vrenn; it’s easy to forget that inside these walls. But out there, you’re the one making the people in here feel safe. But you can’t do that if you can’t defend yourself in an ambush because you haven’t cast your Heroics yet. You can’t do that if you become as worthless as a candle in a flood when your company gets captured by knolls and they decide your spellbooks make good food. You can’t do that if an enemy mage dispels your enhancements and then laughs while his friend, the cannibal, tears your limbs off. You have to be fully capable of handling any situation entirely on your own as a Spellguard. I owe it to you, to your parents, and to the High Lady not to give you the title before you’re able to shoulder it--and right now, you’re not ready.”

    Silence filled the room as the general leaned back once more in his chair, Laelah sitting across from him as stone-faced as she could, nodding blindly as hot tears danced behind her eyes. She began to answer, but only a soft chirp escaped her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut and coughed before finally admitting a quiet “I know, sir. I am truly sorry.”

    Master Korag sighed. “I know you are, Miss Vrenn. And I have some idea how much this post meant to you. The High Lady has waived your tuition fees for the past six years, has she not?”

    Laelah nodded, the sparkles reappearing at the corners of her eyes as the general continued. “I expect she will continue to waive that requirement for you, but I also expect that you were hoping that wouldn’t be necessary--after all, the salary as a junior Spellguard is enough to pay tuition at the College; that’s a common enough track. I suspect, though, that it would have meant rather more to you, no longer being forced to rely on the Lady’s charity, than it does to the average student.”

    He stood abruptly from his chair, beginning to pace a short line beside the table as he continued. “That’s why, Miss Vrenn, I am giving you a second chance to prove that you are worthy of a Spellguard post by autumn.” He turned to her, and her eyes widened in return, staring at the older man in frank astonishment. “As I said before, you are a very promising young woman, and I’m sure that you’re physically capable of learning the required skills, if only you would commit to them with the same intensity with which I am told you pursue your arcane studies. What do you think, Miss Vrenn--would you like to have a second chance?”

    The room suddenly felt much closer than it had when she'd arrived ten minutes before. Laelah swallowed hard, meeting the man’s unblinking iron eyes. “Yes, sir. Whatever the price to restore my good name, I will pay it.”


    And next, I wrote up something that some of you might care to take a peek at. I'm already finding it useful (more on that in a second). It's a little script that you can feed a text file, and it'll read through and give you flags for a few simple things (extra-long sentences, repeated words, and so on). It's not exact; some punctuation can give it problems and the things it prints out might be missing small pieces (especially if you have things in the text like double-hyphens to separate clauses (like I do frequently), or hyphenated end-of-line words). But it won't hurt the original text and it might give you some useful info (it also tracks a couple of stats).

    When I ran it on part 1 of Brygar's backstory, for instance, (after PM indicated that I might possibly be prone to writing too-long sentences), I discovered, among other things, a whopping 61-word sentence in there! The snippet I just posted is actually even worse; I literally started giggling while reading the flagged sentences (309 non-whitespace characters in one of them!!). I haven't fixed it all yet, but even knowing that it's there is already a great, great thing. So without further ado, here's the download link! (Let me know if you can't access it, or find any bugs, or have any feature requests!)

    @You People and Your Multiple-Author Shenanigans
    I've updated the OP to include indications where there are multiple authors contributing to the same storylines. If you guys could take a look and make sure I've gotten it right (haven't swapped any names or missed anyone, etc), that would be excellent. Also, there are now three of you working within one untitled campaign; surely one of you ought to be able to come up with a name for it, right?

    Now, actual comments!

    @PM
    Spoiler
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    Milo spent most of his time rifling through the Brotherhood's records, and was sure that he had found us some lucrative work.
    Kepesk sounds about as convinced as I am.

    we had stayed in this town too long to justify another week for horse training.
    Does it really only take a week?

    Most times I would only manage to piece together strings of words spoken in foreign languages, or not at all.
    It's not clear what you mean at the end, there. You couldn't manage to piece anything together at all? The words weren't spoken at all? They weren't foreign languages?

    "Evil." I replied through clenched teeth.
    Lol.

    Glad to be rid of him, I returned to my task.
    The "glad to be rid of him" seems unnecessary.

    "Goblins!" a voice that did not belong to the madness shouted.

    "Squawk!" responded another.
    eheheh.

    Help me stow the wagon so we aren't over run.
    *overrun is one word.

    They're gaining on us quickly." he snapped, "Milo, find a good vantage point.
    It's not clear who he's snapping at, because either your punctuation or your capitalization is wrong. In general, I think it's a little easier to read if "he [said/snapped/whatever]" comes after the quote it's referring to. Obviously putting it in the middle like you've got here is fine syntactically, but when he's switching who he's talking to it makes the specifics ambigious.

    "They really aren't." he muttered.


    I sent a small missile of force energy into the fray, felling one just before Variel could finish him off.
    Ah, the life of a low-level spellcaster.

    We made short work of the remaining combatants and advanced upon those who prepared the shrine. It had begun to take shape, and on closer inspection resembled some sort of warhorn. It was oversized for a goblin, but would have fit comfortably in a human hand.
    All right, now I'm confused. There are five goblins building a shrine, which I'm picturing as an altar of some kind in the middle of the battlefield. But somehow, not only is this shrine big enough to require (/allow) five goblins to work on it at once, but also it's small enough to hold in one hand?

    beady eyes that gave away no hint at intelligence
    I like the message; the phrasing is a little weird though.

    Gonna kill friend good!” he replied. Charming.


    He seemed to know how to fit the pieces together intuitively.
    Too much crunch; how would Kepesk know that he knew it by intuition rather than recognizing it or something? If it was clear that it was intuitive, show us why what is.

    “Anyone want to fight a goblin king?” he offered with a smile. It was merely a rhetorical question, as he did not pause long enough for us to respond before putting the thing to his lips.
    Lol. Oh, PCs.

    Before I could warn Variel, a bolt of lightning crashed down from the gathering storm clouds above, engulfing him and leaving nothing in his place. The barbarian was gone, dust and smoke hung in the air where he had stood. The rest of us could muster no response other than to gape in confusion and fear.
    Great imagery.

    I helped Master Yu to coax Hero Horse forward
    Please tell me the horse gets this name officially.

    now that he was gone I would kill to have him back.
    Whoa what? We knew she generally thinks better of Variel than she does of the others, but this seems extreme given what we know of their interaction.

    “No it won’t.” he muttered back. I paused before responding. Variel was not only a friend to us, but a protector and a leader as well. What would we do if we were attacked again on the road?
    Ahh, so this is it. Allude to this earlier; we need to know that Kepesk feels this way about Variel before he disappears. All we've gotten up until here is a slight respect, along with mild resentment at not being able to participate more in battle.

    “He was going to help me finish off the bastard who killed my wife.”
    Ah, so this is presumably the guy we're hunting? A mention of this is probably appropriate as Kepesk learns it here. Leaving it until the end of the next paragraph feels too disjointed.

    Its influence radiated outward, cloaking my friend in its strange power.
    What does this mean (physically)? It's hard to picture what Kepesk is actually seeing.

    “I have been to the seat of Alithor, legendary blade of the Thunderlord.” He responded with pride, “It has chosen me as its wielder.”
    "seat" is a weird word to use here; it makes Alithor sound like a person instead of a sword. Also, Variel's triumphant return is really good here; you've got just enough description to paint a very clear picture of him blasting down out of the sky, pumped up and dirty and proud of whatever he's just done.

    I didn’t understand why he was being so short. Variel looked hurt. He hesitated before responding.
    We don't know why he's being so short either, and you never tell us (or give us any hints that Kepesk might have missed)

    He seemed to fancy himself some kind of legendary ruler of the tribes, fated to unite them under his own banner. While I could certainly admire his sudden ambition, the thought struck me as foolish.
    heh.

    Still, if it was important to Variel how could we abandon him?
    You're really hitting this hard--which is fine, except that as I mentioned, there's no precedent for Kepesk really caring about him (or anyone else) this way.

    Master Yu looked conflicted, Variel looked guilty, I rolled my eyes.
    Very easy to visualize; good stuff.

    “Fine.” Milo spat back, climbing back into the wagon, “You can drop me off at the next town.”
    Slit his throat! Slit his throat! Regardless, very nice--snippets where the principal character misses most of the action is always tough, but you pulled it off well.


    @Xerinous
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    In a frozen land, far to the north, a man sits beside a campfire with his companions. His angular features and slightly pointed ears mark him as something more than a human, and his bearing is that of one used to authority. Not far from where he sits, a large blade, very nearly crackling with power, rests in a scabbard of white dragon leather. This man is Variel, Lord of Thunder, leader of the Northern Tribes.
    Nice intro.

    I doubt that Kepesk, however, would have gone on a quest for vengeance without some kind of personal gain coming from it.
    This is going great, so far. This is the first time I feel like you break character, by not introducing Kepesk like you did Milo and Master Yu--so either Kepesk is familiar to the story's audience, or they're now confused. Even if the former is the case, you might want to make that fact clear to the reader.

    The largest disturbance to the quiet, and the most frequent, was that of Milo and Kepesk bickering over some small thing or another. The rest of us largely ignored the two, not really understanding what they were going on about, or why.
    eheh. I like seeing this explicitly from an outside perspective.

    About halfway to the port where we'd be finding a ship to bear us to our fight, as we walked between a pair of hills, we were ambushed by goblins.
    I know I'm basically notorious for this by now, but this feels too slow to get to the main clause. I'd probably rearrange it to put "as we walked between a pair of hills" (and describe these) at the end of the sentence. Otherwise you've got too many similar setup clauses before you get to the meat.

    They began raining arrows down upon us from atop the hills, or trying to. Goblins, as it is known, are not the best archers.
    That is certainly a thing that is known.

    Okrin drew his great sword, which immediately burst into flame, as he spread his wings and flew to the top of the right hill, cutting a goblin in half as he landed.
    Okay, we know he's of celestial descent, but it wasn't obvious until right now that that means he has wings.

    shattering another goblin's face with his feathered fist as he arrived. Deciding they could handle that group of goblins, I charged up the left hill, discarding further rationality as I let my rage at the cowardice of these goblins boil my blood. My father's curved blade in hand, I reached the top of the hill and began cutting down goblins.
    That's a lot of "goblins". I think some pronouns are in order here; no one's going to get confused.

    We managed to capture or kill all of them, and...
    Remember, this is a barbarian warlord telling a story to [his tribe, yes?]. This phrase is a little bland/weak; something like "Those we did not kill, we took captive, and..."

    Something in the back of my mind told me that it would do no such thing, but it seemed like nothing more than a hunch, at the time.
    Also a little weird in the context of the barbarian king telling campfire stories.

    This left us with something of a dilemma. We had this massive war horn of fantastic craftsmanship, that might or might not actually call some fearsome creature fully intending to murder us, should we sound it.
    This is the most intellectual barbarian I've ever read.

    A single bolt of lightning seemed to engulf me.
    Between this story and PM's version, "seemed" doesn't appear to be necessary here--again, it's an indication of uncertainty that's really jarring in a barbarian chieftain.

    I reached out and grabbed Alithor's hilt.
    I'd wait to refer to the sword by name until he's interacted with it and it's chosen him. This seems a bit too familiar for a sword you only just "met" three seconds ago.

    I explained some of what my ownership of the sword meant.
    We need to see Variel gaining this knowledge (in the swordstorm/worthiness test, presumably). For that matter, the moment when he picks up the sword should be longer anyway--this is the climax of the scene; it deserves some really vivid description (especially if it feels like it lasts a couple of minutes to Variel).

    At this, the Thunder Lord trails off, much to the disappointment of the others.
    We still don't know the full scene and who the "others" are, so I'm going with the assumption of "barbarians". Barbarians, in my worldview, do not get "disappointed" Neither do their lords "trail off", but rather they take a big drink, put something down, or otherwise nonverbally signal a clear end to their tale. I know the barbarian culture in this setting is more civilized than your average raging barbarian nomad tribe, but treating them strictly as intellectuals and/or children seems pretty strange.

    Loved the snippet though; I'm really looking forward to see more. It's definitely good to have yet another person writing for this campaign; I certainly enjoy reading it
    Last edited by Dr Bwaa; 2012-11-27 at 08:24 PM.
    For people who enjoy reading or writing.

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    Awesome banner/avatar by El_Frenchie!

    Play chess? Look me up! (bwaa)


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  14. - Top - End - #344
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    @PaperMustache

    Here is my reply to your reply.

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    I feel like "You may call me Jack" is enough to know that it isn't his real name, and I don't know why he would volunteer the information that his true name holds power over him. Seems like a rather dangerous way to introduce oneself.
    This isn't his journal or his autobiography. I went with a style of writing were in a character in the universe tells the story. Ever seen the movie "Kick-Ass"? He just explains these things so that the reader knows that in this universe when mortals use the true names of deific/celestial/certain-other-immortals they hold power over them. Explaining that "Jack" is not his true name helps this.

    Does he not know his deity's name? Also, you do a great job describing his life before he had free will.
    He does, in that he knows the deity's true name, and is unfamiliar with the name that mortals use to refer to he/she/it. Immortals knowing the true names of other immortals does not give them power over the other. Why doesn't he use his true name then? Because true names are not something that can be typed out in the English language.

    This strikes me as hilarious.
    Thanks. It was intended to be a little funny, but also with a hint of sadness.

    Does this mean Jack owns part of the hells?
    No, no ,no. No deva owns any part of Hell. In game terms he was gaining divine ranks. He has his own demiplane and it is not in Hell.

    Well, thanks for enjoying the short. Tell me what you think of the others, and feel free to ask more questions.

    Some of Murphy's other laws.
    "Professionals are predictable, but the world is full of amateurs."
    "No plan survives the first contact intact."
    "If it's stupid, but it works, it isn't stupid."
    -Capt. Edward A. Murphy-
    Newton's Law of the Road
    "The object with more mass has the right-of-way."

  15. - Top - End - #345
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    My group and I have not been playing tabletop games in quite a while, or rather, nothing memorable. We had a brief stint with Star Wars, tried d20 Modern, and had a character die during creation when we thought Rifts was a good idea. So, a combination of me not wanting to GM and no one else in the group being willing has led to an almost complete halt on RPGs. Granted, we're still gaming in a sense, and some moments have truly been memorable/hilarious (to us if no one else).

    Therefore, I present a collection of small pieces. I hope you enjoy.

    Mini-Snippet Madness!
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    "So as a novice Jedi Councilor, I can hurl rocks at people with my mind?" Clarissa asked as the group made its way out of the temple. "Seems to be a reckless use of the force."

    "Don't worry, I'm tanking," Jandor said with a great smile as the large red-haired man flexed his muscles.

    "I'm going to be a DPS Councilor," Lycin chuckled. "You just go ahead and get likes buffs and heals and CC and stuff."

    "We're on a role-playing server, you nitwits," Clarissa muttered dryly. "Can't you at least try to be in character?"

    "RPing is for noobs," Jandor laughed. "We gotta go kill those Flesh Raiders!"

    "Whatever ..." Clarissa sighed. "By the way, where are the others?"

    "Oh, they didn't play Jedi, so they have to start on a different planet," Jandor answered.

    Clarissa folded her arms over her chest and sighed. "Who thought playing a Star Wars MMO was a good idea again?"

    ***

    "K.O!" the announcer shouted triumphantly as Hyabusa landed on his feet after delivering the finishing blow to Bayman.

    Hayate clapped him on the shoulder and beamed excitedly. "See? I knew we could do it! Tag Team DoA is the best!"

    "As much as I appreciate playing the coolest ninja in existence, I think you like this game for a different reason," Hayabusa replied, shaking his head.

    "What do you mean?" Hayate asked curiously. "Since you hate Super Smash Brawl, this is the only fighter game all four of us can play at the same time."

    Hayabusa cupped his hands around his chest. "Big fat bouncy boobies."

    Hayate turned bright red and looked down at his feet in shame. Hayabusa snickered.

    ***

    "Chris!" Sheva shouted as she limped away from the pursuing zombies close behind her.

    Pain wracked her body as she staggered away as fast as she could. Her ammo was all but spent, and she had used the last first aid spray she had. The only thing that kept her from collapsing in defeat was that she and Chris had finally gotten enough points to unlock a new character, and she only needed to hold out another ten seconds.

    Her eyes grew wide with horror as the clock suddenly went from nine seconds to over a full minute. Sheva glared up at Chris, who smiled brightly down at her from the top of the bus, his foot still on the shattered remains of the time bonus.

    Without warning, a hulking hooded form armed with a grossly over-sized ax leaped atop the bus behind Chris. With one mighty swing, the creature smashed his ax down upon the man's skull, the force of the blow driving his entire body through the bus. Sheva sighed irritably as she rubbed her forehead with her fingertips.

    "You guys suck," Wesker laughed. "Pass me the controller."

    ***

    Shen paced back and forth behind the little group of minions, patiently waiting for an enemy minion to become badly wounded. His keen eyes flickered to a tiny mage limping along with its fellows, and with lightning speed and precision Shen struck with his twin blades, slaying the tiny foe.

    The Eye of Twilight glanced at his foe: Alistar the Minotaur. The horned beast smashed the minions with wild abandon, his powerful blows knocking them into the air or flinging them away and into the bushes. Despite his wild ferocity, a quick glance at the scoreboard informed Shen that the ninja's more patient style was far more effective at gathering the extra gold summoners granted for slaying the little minions.

    Suddenly, Yorick's deep but plaintive voice cried out. "I need some help!"

    Without hesitation, Shen closed his eyes and began to chant the old phrase he knew so well. Within moments, he was beside the badly wounded necromancer in the thick of combat with Tryndamere and Sion. As Shen did his best to protect Yorick, he glanced around in the vain hope of spying their ally Annie. To his chagrin, the little sorceress was nowhere to be seen.

    As the fight wore on, Yorick fell to Tryndamere's mighty blows, but the gravedigger's spirit refused to die, and chased after the terrified barbarian as he fled. Shen blocked Sion's ax, and at last struck down the strange creature. Badly wounded, the ninja staggered into a nearby brush and sat down, waiting patiently as his summoner began to conjure him back to their base. He was surprised to find himself suddenly flying through the air as the summoner's magic fizzled out.

    Before he could regain his bearings, Shen was hurled against the far wall of the lane. He lay on the ground for a brief moment, his head reeling. An irritated sigh escaped his lips as Alistar charged toward him once more.

    "Not even light can catch a ninja. A bull certainly won't," Shen smirked as his summoner Flashed him over the wall for a brief moment of safety.

    With the imminent threat unable to follow, Shen limped back to his base. Relief began to wash over him as the summoner's healing magic began to take effect, but his relief was soon replaced with rage as he at last found his missing ally.

    "Annie," he growled, "where were you?"

    "Waiting fifty gold for my Blasting Rod," she answered with a smile.

    "Annie! Y U NO TIBBERS?!"

    ***

    "Heya."

    "What's up?"

    "Not much. What movie are you watching?"

    "It's not a movie. It's Metal Gear Solid 4."

    "Oh. Cutscene?"

    "Yup."

    "How's the gameplay?"

    "Once I get to push buttons, I'll let you know."

  16. - Top - End - #346
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    What's this?
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    Is it...
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    A teaser post?
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    "How much do I hate? I have trouble putting into words, dragon. I awaken every night from dreams of blood and gore where I rule over vast torture pits filled with writhing, shrieking Gentry and feel unsatisfied. I eat food that tastes like ash in my mouth because all I can think about is my rage, about baptizing my axes in the blood of princes and burying them in witches' skulls. I despise every second that I am not hurting one of Them because it is a second of my life that I have wasted, and if I do not subject them to torments of the flesh it is because the mere presence of one of the Strangers invokes such contempt in me that I cannot permit it to live long enough even to torture it. I would break every vow I have sworn to kill even one more faerie. I would sacrifice my courtiers on altars to dark gods to gain the power to hunt Them in Arcadia and beyond. I would pitch a hundred thousand innocents into the flames of the earth to hear the death-shriek of even one Fair Lord. If I could trade the destruction of everything I have ever loved, if I could burn the world, if I could offer the life of every human that has ever lived in exchange for coring Arcadia and destroying its residents I would do so and laugh as both worlds fell into ruin. I know no joy, no fear, no sorrow, no love, no loyalty - only hate, that fills my veins. Hate, that consumes my thoughts, that drapes itself in this flaming mantle of Summer, that drives me, that defines me. I do not experience rage. I am rage, the all-consuming hunger, the endless thirst for blood, the ceaseless frenzy of the hunt, the pulse that rips out of the vein and sprays hot and bloody. Did you really think your petty, vainglorious wrath could match mine? Kneel, and accept your penalty, wyrm."


    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

  17. - Top - End - #347
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    Bump? Where'd everyone go?


    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

  18. - Top - End - #348
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    My school work is over. I'll have a snippet ready soon.
    Games I'm in:

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    Askaretha's Ascension as Vaishirth

  19. - Top - End - #349
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    Sorry for the delay! It's been an awfully busy couple of weeks. And yet only SS has posted something that needs commenting! Shame on the rest of you (Gareth only gets half shame).

    @SleepyShadow
    I'm just going to lump my reactions to these all together since there's no continuity between them. General impressions of the whole thing: your gaming group is still hilarious. That is all.
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    "We're on a role-playing server, you nitwits," Clarissa muttered dryly.
    Ahahaha. Whose idea was that?

    "K.O!" the announcer shouted triumphantly as Hyabusa landed on his feet after delivering the finishing blow to Bayman.
    A DoA snippet? Really? lol.

    I think you like this game for a different reason
    Wonder what that could be

    With one mighty swing, the creature smashed his ax down upon the man's skull, the force of the blow driving his entire body through the bus.
    Yesssssss. I didn't really put together from the intro to this whole thing that it was going to be video game snippets, but I love it.

    Shen paced back and forth behind the little group of minions, patiently waiting for an enemy minion to become badly wounded. His keen eyes flickered to a tiny mage limping along with its fellows, and with lightning speed and precision Shen struck with his twin blades, slaying the tiny foe.
    I should have assumed this would come up, knowing your group.

    As Shen did his best to protect Yorick
    How? Specifically, how exactly is it that Shen can taunt his enemies by running past them?

    An irritated sigh escaped his lips
    Shen has trained extensively to be completely dispassionate in all situations. Irritated sighs seem unlikely.

    "Waiting fifty gold for my Blasting Rod," she answered with a smile.
    Dammit, Annie. Buy a lucky pick and get back to your lane.

    Metal Gear Solid 4
    lol


    @Lord_Gareth
    No specific comments since it's just a teaser. But now I want the full version, you jerk. This sounds awesome. It's a great speech.
    For people who enjoy reading or writing.

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    Awesome banner/avatar by El_Frenchie!

    Play chess? Look me up! (bwaa)


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  20. - Top - End - #350
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    Quote Originally Posted by Dr Bwaa View Post
    Ahahaha. Whose idea was that?
    If you recall the cleric from the Ravenloft campaign, it was that player's idea. He's a Star Wars nut.

    A DoA snippet? Really? lol.
    Well, I like the game because Hayabusa is in it. I'm not the one that decided it would be a good idea to have Hitomi J-Cup power punch people off cliffs


    How? Specifically, how exactly is it that Shen can taunt his enemies by running past them?
    Don't question Hayabusa's Shen's techniques! More to the point, I'm fairly certain he punches people in the junk as he runs past them. Yes, even the girls. Yes, even Blitzcrank.


    Shen has trained extensively to be completely dispassionate in all situations. Irritated sighs seem unlikely.
    He may be, but I'm not.

  21. - Top - End - #351
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    Yeah. Sorry I haven't posted anything lately. Just haven't really been in the mood for writing. I might post something tomorrow. No promises though. With the way work has been lately (thanks to Christmas coming soon) I just been to drained to do anything really. I might post a "Misadventure of Cronc" short tomorrow. Mostly because they are easy.

    Anyways, I'm still alive, and trying to visit regularly and read through the posts.

    On a side note, if you enjoy the Cronc shorts, and got ideas of crazy places he can be thrown into in which hilarity ensues; feel free to share your ideas. I might just write it. It used to be a fun thing my DnD groups used to do, talk about what would happen if Cronc was here or there. It is kind of the origin point of the "Cronc Goes to (blank)" shorts idea.

    Some of Murphy's other laws.
    "Professionals are predictable, but the world is full of amateurs."
    "No plan survives the first contact intact."
    "If it's stupid, but it works, it isn't stupid."
    -Capt. Edward A. Murphy-
    Newton's Law of the Road
    "The object with more mass has the right-of-way."

  22. - Top - End - #352
    Halfling in the Playground
     
    BlackDragon

    Join Date
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    I'll second the "Christmas is coming and I have no willpower to write snippets" thing. Just my luck that I get a massive case of writer's block just as soon as I actually have time to write! I do, however, have a bit of a thing I wrote a while ago that I can share. It's from the same world as my other snippets, but from a different perspective. It's also waaaay later than the stuff that I've written so far and not entirely accurate, but I'm sort of proud of it and it serves as an interesting teaser for later in the story without giving much away. It might be frustrating given the lack of context given, so sorry for that. No need to file it or anything. Enjoy.

    Ava, Protector of the Mirror Realm
    Spoiler
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    I lay in wait, observing the enemy's camp as they prepared for another battle. This war had troubled my lord for well over a year. Six months ago our spies had gone silent, then more recently they made another grab for my lord's power over the realm. I was his response, his right hand, his reckoning. It was up to me to find out as much about these people as possible and end them.

    I caught sight of her first, our newest trespasser and usurper. A slender figure in the same style of dress, a black robe and mask, as her master. She called herself The Herald, a blasphemous mockery of my lord. There was only one herald of the god of mirrors. Though she had spent the least time meddling in my lord's affairs, she had perhaps done the most damage. She was a crafty one. Capable of raising seemingly unlimited hordes of powerful soldiers to assault us. Her guard was down now, though, and she was mine. I followed her with my eyes as she abandoned camp, leaving the safety of that blasphemous wall. She was coming this way. I crouched, poised to attack.

    "Show yourself, puppet" my target called in an irritated tone. Something had given away my position. I cursed my luck and sprang from my hiding place, swinging my blade in a wide arc against the enemy.

    It hit with a satisfying crack. I thought I had ended my foe until her form gave way completely under my blade. It shattered into a thousand pieces like dark glass. It was a power stolen from my lord. I drew my holy symbol from around my neck and prepared to counter her ill gotten power. I had to move fast before she attacked. I drew blood from my thumb and smeared it over my holy symbol. The ritual was prepared just as the usurper struck me across the jaw, materializing out of thin air and knocking me to the ground.

    "You're keeping me from a very interesting meeting." the Herald mentioned, standing over me.

    "Strength of the master, protect your servant..." I muttered, ignoring her.

    "A prayer?" she mused, sending a swift kick into my side.

    "Will of the master, guide her steps..."

    "I didn't know puppets had gods." she chuckled, striking me with a barrage of lightning from her fingertips. Gods. Multiple. What sacrelidge. I struggled to maintain focus on the ritual.

    *"Light of the master, hold back the shadows."

    "Tell your gods they have no power over me." she growled, suddenly conjuring otherworldly claws. She lashed out at my throat, presumably to damage my vocal chords and prevent me from completing the ritual. Too late. I caught her monstrous claw in one hand as I completed the words.

    "Hear my cry and grant me power, Lord of Strings!" I cried as my holy symbol let out a wave of divine energy. The apparition that had been the Herald disappeared.

    "Show yourself, coward!" I shouted.

    "Clever puppet." Her voice called from above me. I looked up to find the usurper thirty feet in the air, kept aloft by two massive dragon wings I had not noticed before. "You've cut me off from my connection to the mirror realm. An interesting notion, though I doubt you can keep it up for long. I think I'd like to see how that works."*

    With that, she pulled her wings inward and flew downward to dive-bomb me, claws outstretched. She was aiming for my holy symbol. Just as she was about to strike, I swung my blade to parry. For a heartbeat we met eye to eye, weapon to weapon. Her claw did not give out against my blade. I gauged my opponent's strength in the split second given to me before the momentum forced her to disengage, swerving to the side. She steadied herself and launched back at me again and again. We would clash, struggle, and finally break. She was unnaturally strong. Clash. Struggle. Break. Again. But she lacked finesse. Clash. Struggle. Break. Again. She fought recklessly, paying no attention to her defenses. Clash. Struggle. Break. Again. My skill outmatched hers. Clash. Struggle. Break. Again. If I was patient... Clash. Struggle. There!

    I thrust my sword at the enemy just as she was pulling away, clipping her wing and sending her hurdling clumsily into the brush. I sprang over to her, holding my blade inches from her neck to prove she had been beaten.*

    "In the name of the Lord of Strings, ruler of this realm, I claim you as my prisoner. Stand down and no harm will come to you." I said mechanically. The Captive's Assurance was a formality that could not be avoided, not even for this filth. She offered little more than a smile in response.

    "What are you smiling at, filth?" I demanded.

    "My master will be displeased with me." she replied simply.

    "Stand down and no harm will come to you." I repeated.

    "I was supposed to be saving my strength." she went on, ignoring me, "Oh well. You work for me now."

    The notion was absurd. For a split second I wondered if she might be joking. Then it hit me. I noticed a small hand gesture before my will was assaulted. Everything I was bent to her whim. My body and mind turned against me, eager to betray all I held dear. I worked for her now. I withdrew my blade, allowing her to rise to her feet.

    "You're an interesting puppet." she remarked, looking me over, "Who are you?"

    "I am Ava. Right hand and true herald of the Lord of Strings." I replied obediently.

    "The Lord of Strings?" she lingered on the phrase, "You mean the Puppet Master?"

    "That name is a slight. A crude understanding of my lord's true nature given to him by his enemies." I said stiffly.

    "I see." she smirked, "and what have we here? What is this?" She gestured to my holy symbol, a simple mirror engraved with four tangled strings.

    I felt my arm move to give it to her. No! I could not let this monster take any more of my lord's power. As my hand closed around my most precious treasure, ready to throw it to the wolves, I let out a desperate prayer.

    "Will of the master..." I started. I came back to myself seconds later, my mind and body my own once again. I took my enemy by surprise, taking this chance to bring my blade up to slash at her face. She managed to dodge, falling backward as my blade made devastating contact with her mask. It split in two and fell to the ground with her. I swung my blade above my head to deliver the final blow when something stopped me.*

    I recognized her face. The fair skin, the round, blue eyes that fixed me with a defiant glare. She was the spy master who had gone missing six months ago. A kind and clever half-elf, a good friend. I dropped my blade without thinking.

    "Lady Kepesk?!" I uttered in shock. A cruel smile, one that my friend would never be capable of, spread across her face.

    "Oh, were you one of her followers?" the false Kepesk smirked, making no move to rise or escape, "I didn't think any of that lot had been allowed to survive."

    "You are not my friend." I insisted, more for my benefit than for hers.

    "No. I'm just the base on which she was created." the monster taunted, "My decisions, my experiences, my life. All she was, all your realm is, is a crude reflection of reality."

    I had had enough of this reflection's painful words. It cut deep to hear such malice in my friend's voice. I resolved to end it quickly. I swung high and brought my blade down upon the false herald, ending her life with a final crack. She did not scream as she died. Suddenly the corpse gave way and shattered under my blade, littering the ground with shards of darkened glass.

    "Thanks for the trinket, puppet." a familiar voice whispered behind me. I swung my blade in an arc to continue the fight, but she was already gone. I reached up to touch my holy symbol, dreading what I knew must be. It was gone. She must have stolen it while I fought her compulsion. I swung my blade once more, digging into a near by tree in rage. She would pay for this slight with her life.

    "Fury of the master, guide my hand." I whispered to no one in particular.*
    Last edited by PaperMustache; 2012-12-20 at 12:49 AM.

  23. - Top - End - #353
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    There are chunks of Brygar's backstory that I just hate, but they need to be there for continuity or plot or whatever. Other parts are simply bad*, and I just don't have a lot of time to put into writing right now (I will starting this weekend though!). Luckily for all of us, in snippet form I can damn the context and come back to it when I'm good and ready. So instead of the "next" part, have something that doesn't suck quiiiite as much, instead! Not that it's great,but at it'll make you forget that I haven't followed through on any of my promises from months ago. I promise one day I'll get back to the Wanderers...

    Putting Out to Sea
    or: Turtlestorm!
    Spoiler
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    Brygar intended to rest in Vitsek for three days before his return journey down the long trade road to Atreid. In a tavern on the second evening, though, he mentioned his destination to a group of sailors. They laughed when he said he planned to walk there. Taking a ship down the coast, they said, would cut the trip in half, and he could ride the currents all the way there. Brygar had no particular desire to make the long trek on foot again, especially alone, so he resolved to take the sailors' advice and build another canoe.

    Nothing he'd learned from the Mafeeran Elves had prepared him for travel on the open ocean. In Salmazuri, though, Celthric had spoken occasionally of special canoes fit for oversea voyages, given a skilled pilot and craftsmen. Brygar seriously doubted that he was what Celthric had had in mind as a skilled craftsman or sailor, but that could not be helped.

    He made himself a kayak, much longer and somewhat wider than his earlier canoes, for added stability on the sea. When he was done, he spent several days getting provisions together for his voyage, as well as fashioning several harpoons. He'd stretched bark over the top of the craft, in the hope that it would keep most of the seawater out. When he could think of nothing else to bring, Brygar apprehensively got into his boat and set out for Atreid.

    As before, the voyage started out scary, if exhilarating. He paddled relentlessly against deep crosscurrents all through the morning as he worked his way out of the wide bay. As night fell, he checked the stars for his position, and checked them again in the morning. He'd drifted far to the west, but he'd expected that. He hadn't capsized, sunk, run aground or been taken by pirates, so he considered the night a success. He’d slept fitfully, but at least he had slept. Stretching his arms in the morning sun, Brygar broke his fast, took the paddle in his hands, and struck out to the south. Serthia's coastline sloped gently away as the subtle current continued to pull him westward, into the open sea.

    By the third day, he was no longer so terrified of the sea, at least not while he was awake. But he feared for his progress, as there were still many, many miles to cross. Worse, thanks to his drifting at night there was no longer any land to be seen in any direction. It was a blessedly calm day, so he had no wind to work against, but Brygar was growing tired of the blank sea, of the sun constantly glaring in his eyes, of the endless paddling. Most of all, he longed desperately to stand up.

    On the fourth day, he found himself in the middle of a school of dark-looking fish, swimming near the surface. Welcoming the relief from the monotony, he took out a harpoon, and began to try his hand at spearing one. The distortion of the water confounded him for some time, but with patience, he slowly grew more confident. Eventually, he landed a good-sized white trout, which he ate raw that night to conserve his rations.

    Two nights later, Brygar had his most terrifying experience on the sea to date. He awoke to find his boat beginning to buck wildly and the howling wind throwing waves over the bow. He pulled out his paddle futilely, and began trying to fight the seas. In moments, he realized that riding with the waves was a safer prospect, despite the gut-wrenching spins and plunges between one crest and the next.

    Wind battered at his face, lashed his arms and nearly tore the paddle from his grasp many times, but he kept grimly working to stay afloat. He prayed for safe passage in every language he knew while struggling to keep his kayak abreast of the waves. Throughout the exhausting night, Brygar fought to keep the hardy little boat upright with all his strength and will. By morning, the storm finally began to clear up. The winds died down, the surf calmed, and Brygar took stock of his position. By some grace, the storm had brought him South quite a distance, so with any luck at all, he'd be to Atreid much sooner for the experience.

    With that thought, he gave up on sleep and instead spent some time checking his supplies and ship for damage. Blessedly, little harm had been done. He had brought the most water-resistant foods he could think of, and all the fruits were long gone anyway. Wearily, he struck out again. Though he didn't make much more progress that day, he was thankful just to have made it through the night.

    Brygar enjoyed the next couple of days, again. He felt newly vitalized by his near-death experience at the hands of the sea, and paddled southeast with vigor. He caught another small fish for lunch, and enjoyed the rare sights on the empty sea as he saw them. One day, a small cloud of birds appeared on the horizon, slowly coming his way. He knew he was getting close—according to every book he'd ever read and story he’d ever heard, gulls never strayed far from shore. He wasn't surprised when a ship came into view beneath them, a tall one, with many masts. It passed far in front of him, and Brygar wondered if they ever saw him, dwarfed by the sea and silhouetted against the sun. Soon, though, all such thoughts were gone from his head as something completely unexpected commanded all his attention.

    Brygar shouted as his little kayak suddenly dipped its nose heavily into the water, nearly flipping over entirely. When he crashed down as the craft righted itself, a bizarre, alien-looking creature was crouching on the bow. Part man, part seal, part wolf, it had a misshapen snout and teeth, fins, a serpentine tail, and manlike arms with terrible claws. It writhed toward him over the wooden water-cover with surprising speed, and Brygar barely had time to raise his paddle before he was set upon.

    It writhed and clawed at him, snapping its jaws dangerously close, and flailing about without regard for the crazily tilting boat. Brygar held the paddle in his left hand, keenly aware of the trials that would await him should he drop it, while he searched with his right for a harpoon. Then, the little craft rolled over.

    Seawater filled Brygar's mouth and nose as he choked and began to panic. He had no idea if he could free himself, or what would become of him even if he could. Instead, he sought the surface with a fist still gripping the paddle, pulling the sea towards him from over the kayak. Looking around wildly, Brygar caught sight of the creature through the clear water, barreling toward him with its mouth wide. In a last desperate attempt, the man pulled hard, arched his back against the sea, and twisted with all his might towards the surface.

    Like magic, the kayak was righted; its single beleaguered crewmember dripping and gasping and choking—but living. Riding low and full of seawater, everything inside the craft would certainly be ruined soon if it wasn’t already. Brygar looked around and found a harpoon still gladly secured, and he wasted no more time in snatching it up. Spotting a blur under the water, he didn’t hesitate with his thrust, hitting home and quickly wrenching the harpoon free before he lost it.

    A helical thread of blood spiraled up through the water, but a moment later the creature's clawed hand reappeared, digging into the side of the kayak. The craft pitched wildly, threatening to flip once more. Unsure if he could ever repeat his blessed recovery, Brygar stabbed wildly into the water under his boat. Once, twice, he found resistance, puncturing scaly flesh again and again. As a gurgling howl escaped the water, Brygar was suddenly distracted by something far worse. In the sea to his right, a massive dark form was approaching swiftly and steadily.

    With new urgency, the man thrust into the water again and again. The creature released its grip, and Brygar jammed the bloody harpoon into the boat, gripping the paddle with both hands and backing water frantically. The shape to his right grew, and the water around it began to ripple. Waves began to rock the canoe as the shape—easily twenty feet long, and nearly as wide—drew closer. Backing hard, Brygar couldn't help but slow slightly as the dark shape took form.

    Rising from the water, dwarfing the little boat as it broke the surface within arm's reach, a tremendous black-green shell shed a cascade in all directions. Brygar couldn't help but wonder at the fantastical creature appearing before him even as he fought to keep his boat upright. The shell was attached to an enormous, spined head. Massive flippers with great talons at their ends emerged as the majestic beast continued to rise, rearing back like a yawning bear the size of an island.

    Seeing what was about to come, Brygar resumed back-paddling. The Dragon Turtle—for it could be nothing else—slammed down again on the spot where Brygar had last seen the creature he'd wounded. Waves rushed over the bow of the kayak and sent it spinning away. Meanwhile, the legendary creature dived, vanishing in mere moments and creating an instant vortex on the surface of the sea.

    Brygar fought to keep his little craft free, and spun round several times before he regained control. Then he paddled furiously, for a creature that size could certainly eat more than one human-sized meal in a day. His kayak was heavy, laden with water, but Brygar was energized. He was running on pure adrenaline, and the pain in his muscles was dulled by excitement. As dusk approached, he realized that he could see a vast shoreline, stretching out forever to the East before him.

    The shore was still in view the next morning, and after a quickly-aborted attempt to bail out his kayak, Brygar decided to simply haul all his seawater with him and try to make land before nightfall. He was starving, parched, exhausted, and crusted over with freezing cold saltwater. All his food was beyond ruined, as were his morale and, most significantly, his fresh water. The only thing he felt might yet be saved was the Elvencraft bow Huamn Lem had given him, wrapped in a sealed leather case that Brygar had tried to waterproof before the journey began. With desperate strength, Brygar forced his numb body to keep moving as he dragged the waterlogged kayak through the sea.

    Gulls came to inspect him. He found himself resenting their added weight as they stood expectantly on the tips of his craft, just out of reach. For a few moments he cursed at them, swinging his paddle, but they would not be dislodged. They merely stared at him with inquisitive eyes, so he put himself back to work, grunting and growling with each stroke. The sun blazed, scorching, across the sky, and Brygar sweated and groaned, but ever so slowly, he crawled toward the land. The city he prayed would be there began to grow out of the horizon, tall buildings visible even at this distance.

    With his last ounces of will, Brygar forced himself to continue, his body completely numb, teeth working, neck clenching. Each stroke was a battle; a war lasting hours. He fought his own mortal weakness, roaring with effort as his muscles sang out for release. When he finally nosed up to a decrepit stretch of rock and mud, he couldn't even release himself from the kayak. With both arms quivering, he dug the paddle into the muck to drag his waterlogged craft sideways onto the shore. When he reached the tide line, Brygar dropped the paddle, slumped forward in triumph, and fell instantly to sleep.


    @PM, Sure you don't want me to file that one? I like it a lot; didn't find it frustrating at all, just intriguing and vaguely badass I'll do more in-depth comments if you like, though it sounds like you don't care too much about this one--and I might add it to the compendium anyway (UNLIMITED POWER!!!)

    @mebecronck I still like Cronc Goes to Jail for Killing WWE Superstars.
    Also, Cronc Buys a Car, Cronc Goes to the Zoo, and Cronc Solves a Mystery (actually, a miniseries of Cronc as a detective--in the style of the great Kid Detectives (e.g. Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew (Encyclopedia Brown? The Boxcar Children???))--could be awesome. Cronc and the Case of the Missing Pizza. Cronc and the Mystery of the Purple Pool. Cronc in the Baskervilles. I could go on.).


    *I'm actually tempted to do a liveblog-type thing of me reading Brygar's whole backstory again. There are so many things that just suck!
    Last edited by Dr Bwaa; 2012-12-20 at 02:39 PM.
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    Play chess? Look me up! (bwaa)


    Formerly known as lordhenry4000

  24. - Top - End - #354
    Halfling in the Playground
     
    BlackDragon

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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    @Bwaa No no, you misunderstand. I love the crap out of that snippet, it just doesn't make sense given the rest of the snippets I've got in there. It's kind of like my version of mebecronc's diversion snippets, except instead of hilarious silliness
    Spoiler
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    I make whole new characters for the express purpose of having Kepesk RUIN THEIR WHOLE DAY.
    . You can file it if you like, I don't mind. My ego thirsts for your thoughts on it, though. On that note.

    Spoiler
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    Brygar had no real desire to make the long trek on foot again, especially alone, so he resolved to take the sailors' advice and build another canoe.
    Brygar is manly as hell.

    He made himself a kayak, much longer and somewhat wider than his earlier canoes, for added stability on the sea. When he was done, he spent several days getting provisions together for his voyage, as well as fashioning several harpoons. He'd stretched bark over the top of the craft, in the hope that it would keep most of the seawater out. When he could think of nothing else to provision himself with, Brygar apprehensively got into his boat and set out for Atreid, invisibly far away in the South.
    These sentences are all really long. I don't really know how to fix them short of giving less information which probably isn't what you want. However, the bolded phrase seems really awkward to me. It could be helped by simply describing Atreid as "far-off", or perhaps getting rid of the word "invisibly", or even getting rid of it all together.

    As before, the voyage started out scary, if exhilarating. He paddled relentlessly against deep crosscurrents all through the morning as he worked his way out of the wide bay.
    MANLY AS HELL.

    He’d slept fitfully, but he had slept, and he broke his fast from his provisions, took the paddle back in his hands, and struck out again to the south, a subtle flow pulling him westwards as Serthia’s coastline sloped gently away from him to his left.
    Promise I'll stop harping on this, but I noticed that this was one sentence. It should be at least three.

    On the fourth day, he found himself in the middle of a school of some kind of largish dark-looking fish, swimming near the surface.
    I feel like "large" would be better than "largish". If it isn't, than definitely some more description on why these fish are somewhere between normal fish size and large fish size.

    ...landed a good-sized white trout, which he ate raw that night to conserve his rations.
    I don't think the masculinity of this character will ever stop being entertaining to me. RRRRGH

    shockingly, amazingly, the storm had, by some grace, brought him South quite a distance,
    Ok, pretty terrified of being wrong here because you're kind of a grammar wizard, but I think there should be a comma up there. Also, probably either "shockingly, amazingly" or "by some grace" but not both.

    A helical thread of blood spiraled up through the water...
    Really liked that description. Also, the whole conflict with seal-crab-wolf man was so exciting that I neglected to find anything to nit pick about it. So good job there!

    Rising from the water, dwarfing the little boat as the thing broke the surface just barely in front of it, a tremendous black-green shell shed a cascade in all directions.
    Another really cool description. I'm really getting the "awe in spite of fear" feeling.

    Each stroke was a battle; a war; an apocalypse in his blood.
    ...I'm with you right up until "apocalypse in his blood". Maybe dial it back a notch or it starts to sound a little melodramatic.

    Overall thoughts: When your descriptions are good, they're really god damn good. When they're bad, it's usually because they were too long. I feel really bad about harping on it so much, but it's really easy to fix. I really loved the encounter with the dragon turtle. It really felt like a near-death experience. I'll try to go back and review what I missed at some point.



    EDIT: I just saw the title you gave my story on the first post and burst out laughing. "Kepesk and 'Friends'", I like it. I named (lazily) the untitled snippet since it's in there. Maybe I'll just write short conflicts between Kepesk at higher levels and various NPCs between motivation for the main stories. And by write, I mean post. Because about three of them already exist. Could you put "Destiny" before "Destruction of Amolarr"? It comes first. Thanks!
    Last edited by PaperMustache; 2012-12-20 at 12:48 AM.

  25. - Top - End - #355
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    Dr Bwaa's Avatar

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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    @PM
    AHHHH, well then! Here you go!
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    I lay in wait, observing the enemy's camp
    There's nothing technically wrong with this. Personally, though, I think "lay" is one of the worst possible words to use as the first verb in a passage. The reader doesn't know yet what tense it's in, and it's not obvious without context if you meant "lie" in the past tense, or if you're misusing "lay". In this case, the context comes at the end of the sentence, when we find out that yes, this is the past tense. Like I said, not actually wrong, but a bit weird to read.

    Six months ago our spies had gone silent, then more recently they made another grab for my lord's power over the realm.
    Your spies made "another" grab for power? Not very loyal spies, are they? (I'm assuming "they" is supposed to refer to the "enemies").

    It was up to me to find out as much about these people as possible and end them.
    These two things don't flow well together. I like the nod towards "tried and executed" (in that you're going to end them no matter what you find out), but as written it's a bit too clunky to get across the same sort of humor.

    A slender figure in the same style of dress, a black robe and mask, as her master.
    I'd probably put the bolded things together. It's a little weird to interrupt the thought with the specifics this way.

    She called herself The Herald, a blasphemous mockery of my lord. There was only one herald of the god of mirrors. Though she had spent the least time meddling in my lord's affairs, she had perhaps done the most damage.
    You keep tricking me. By the end of this passage, I have no idea who is who--is this "usurper" the Herald, or isn't she? I guess the issue is that it's not clear who the bolded "she" above is referring to. It would make sense for it to be the original subject (the usurper), but it reads like it's referring to the "only one herald of the god of mirrors".

    leaving the safety of that blasphemous wall.
    Eh?

    I drew my holy symbol from around my neck and prepared to counter her ill gotten power.
    ill-gotten should by hyphenated, and it would be nice if you explained how you're going to "counter" it, especially since we don't yet know what kind of power it is--an illusion? A simulacrum? It's not clear how you'd go about "countering" it, so it doesn't stand on its own. When we do find out, it's after it has happened--too late to produce any suspense.

    I drew blood from my thumb and smeared it over my holy symbol.
    I like this. I like all your detail work on spellcasting, actually.

    "Tell your gods they have no power over me." she growled, suddenly conjuring otherworldly claws.
    By this point it is a little strange that the speaker has been basically not defending herself while the Herald beats the tar out of her--but the speaker doesn't seem hurt or really much inconvenienced, and the Herald is acting like she hasn't been successful thus far. From her introduction and bearing, you'd expect the Herald to immediately incapacitate the speaker given such a long opportunity.

    "Clever puppet."
    I really like all the puppet talk.

    She steadied herself and launched back at me again and again. We would clash, struggle, and finally break. She was unnaturally strong. Clash. Struggle. Break. Again. But she lacked finesse. Clash. Struggle. Break. Again. She fought recklessly, paying no attention to her defenses. Clash. Struggle. Break. Again. My skill outmatched hers. Clash. Struggle. Break. Again. If I was patient... Clash. Struggle. There!
    This is a little too repetetive for me. I'd rather see one or two detailed struggles, followed by an "it keeps happening".

    clipping her wing and sending her hurdling clumsily into the brush.
    *hurtling

    The Captive's Assurance was a formality that could not be avoided, not even for this filth.
    Great detail.

    "What are you smiling at, filth?" I demanded.
    You did just use "filth" a line ago, though.

    "My master will be displeased with me." she replied simply.

    "Stand down and no harm will come to you." I repeated.

    "I was supposed to be saving my strength." she went on, ignoring me, "Oh well. You work for me now."
    Commas at the end of quotes if you go on outside of the quoted text, and periods before quotes if you're starting a new thought/sentence. This is an issue elsewhere as well.

    Right hand and true herald of the Lord of Strings
    This was guessable earlier, but not at all obvious. If you reorganize that paragraph I was having issues with above, it'll probably get better.

    A crude understanding of my lord's true nature given to him by his enemies.
    I'd put a comma after "nature"; otherwise you're saying that his nature was given to him by his enemies. Which is odd.

    "Will of the master..." I started. I came back to myself seconds later, my mind and body my own once again.
    Nice comeback! It's not often that you get to see people actually throwing off Dominates.

    taking this chance to bring my blade up to slash at her face. She managed to dodge, falling backward as my blade made devastating contact with her mask. It split in two and fell to the ground with her. I swung my blade above my head to deliver the final blow when something stopped me.*
    You use this word almost exclusively. It's not very noticeable except for here, though. Also, you've got a bunch of errant asterisks sprinkled throughout your snippet. They confuse me.

    She was the spy master who had gone missing six months ago.
    Dun dun DUNNNNN!

    "You are not my friend." I insisted, more for my benefit than for hers.
    Again, good detail.

    She did not scream as she died. Suddenly the corpse gave way and shattered under my blade, littering the ground with shards of darkened glass.
    One of two things happens here, and I'm not sure which one it is: either you hit her and she shatters, or you hit her, she dies, and then the corpse shatters a few moments later. "Suddenly" implies the latter, but "under my blade" suggests the former.

    digging into a near by tree in rage.
    *nearby is one word.

    "Fury of the master, guide my hand." I whispered to no one in particular.*
    Nice ending. Not so much for Ava, but still

    I'm a big fan of having a side-project-type-thing to do just to basically mess around with your characters when you're not motivated to write real stuff. Nothing I've ever written that way is fit for print, but it's certainly nice to be able to blow off steam and write some non-contextualized stuff. I hope you decide to post more!

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    Brygar is manly as hell.
    ...
    MANLY AS HELL.
    ...
    I don't think the masculinity of this character will ever stop being entertaining to me.
    Good, because it never stops being true For reference, this is his third canoe by this point. When I finally made his character sheet, I ended up having to give him loads of extraneous skill ranks to justify all his backstory shenanigans.

    These sentences are all really long.
    *le sigh* There is something wrong with me. You'd think I'd have at least run my little script on this to see if it was okay, but no. (see my final comment)

    I noticed that this was one sentence. It should be at least three.
    Yet it was only the fourth-longest sentence in the passage! (It is now three)

    I feel like "large" would be better than "largish".
    Agreed.

    Ok, pretty terrified of being wrong here because you're kind of a grammar wizard, but I think there should be a comma up there. Also, probably either "shockingly, amazingly" or "by some grace" but not both.
    Well, thank you But I am far better at seeing that kind of issue in other people's writing. When it's my own, I already know what I think I wrote, so can I read whole passages without noticing glaring flaws. You are entirely right on both counts.

    the whole conflict with seal-crab-wolf man was so exciting that I neglected to find anything to nit pick about it. So good job there!
    Thanks! I'm pretty sure tat thing is a legitimate D&D monster, but I've long since forgotten what it actually is, heh. Some variant of sea wolf, maybe.

    ...I'm with you right up until "apocalypse in his blood". Maybe dial it back a notch or it starts to sound a little melodramatic.
    ...Have I mentioned that I have a tendency to let the melodrama dial choose its own setting? Three guesses what setting it prefers.

    I feel really bad about harping on it so much
    Harp as much as you like; it helps a lot Thanks for the input!! Apparently I posted a snippet that included 53 "long sentences" (22 or more words). The average sentence length was a whopping 25.476 words! I've gone through the whole thing with a red pen and reduced that to 22 long sentences, and an average sentence length of 18.385. Maybe it reads a little better now! Let me know how you think I did, if you take another look at it. Hopefully I didn't ruin any of the stuff you liked.
    Last edited by Dr Bwaa; 2012-12-20 at 03:48 PM.
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  26. - Top - End - #356
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    Does it matter that the snippets be specific to D&D, or are you guys interested in hearing about adventures in other games and settings? I've got a few good tales to tell from Changeling: the Lost and a loosely-ruled Percy Jackson game.
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  27. - Top - End - #357
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    This part of the forum is for any tabletop game, so yeah. Some of the snippets here are for videogames too, so...go wild.
    Games I'm in:

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    Askaretha's Ascension as Vaishirth

  28. - Top - End - #358
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    Woah, I know kung fu my group has started up with tabletop gaming again. We found a third party campaign setting called Midnight, which essentially boils down to what it would be like if the orcs had won the war in Lord of the Rings. So we've decided to give it a whirl, and here is the snippet of our first session. Enjoy.


    Midnight: Crown of Shadow

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    Kresua groaned as he opened his narrow black eyes. The dragonborn sat up slowly as he looked around the pitch black room, dust falling away from his body with every movement. He had been lying on a large stone slab, and to either side of him stood more stone slabs. The two nearest him were occupied.

    To his left rested a human man in scaled armor emblazoned with the symbol of a deity Kresua did not recognize. To his right ... well, the little silver scaled creature was far too bat-like to be a dragon, and far too scrawny to be some type of dwarf or halfling.

    The human began to stir, shaking the dust from his hair as he sat up. He muttered a few eldritch words, and the symbol on his armor began to glow with a soft white light. He looked startled to see Kresua.

    "You're big," the human said immediately.

    "No, I'm Kresua Turak," the dragonborn replied. "Who are you?"

    "There are some who call me ... Kirk," the priest answered.

    "Any idea what that is?" Kresua asked as he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the little creature behind him.

    "My name is Acuse," the tiny reptile grumbled as it sat up in a cross-legged position. "As for your question of 'what', I am a dragonborn anthropomorphic bat druid."

    "That seems ... overly optimized," Kirk said thoughtfully.

    "That aside," Kresua sighed, "any idea where we are?"

    Acuse raised his hand immediately. "According to my research, this is an ancient tomb of gnomish design. The real question is how we ended up down here."

    "No clue," Kresua said. "Last thing I remember was patrolling the streets of Greyhawk."

    "Greyhawk? Never heard of it," Kirk murmured. "As I recall, I was partying with some pirates in Luskan."

    "Clearly we are not on the same page. I was just disembarking from an airship bound for Stormreach," Acuse said.

    "Faerun, Eberron, and Oerth," Kresua muttered as he folded his arms over his chest. "What are three people from three different worlds doing down in a gnome crypt?"

    Before anyone could postulate an answer, the sound of metal grinding against stone echoed throughout the chamber, and the sound of rapid footsteps could be heard approaching their position. Kresua grabbed his axe and shield, Kirk readied his heavy two-handed mace, and Acuse began to conjure up some fiery magic.

    A frail looking elf girl staggered into the room and collapsed to the floor in exhaustion. Her skin was snowy white, she had pale lavender hair, and was garbed in a blue tunic, a hooded blue cloak, and tall black leather boots. Following close behind her were three other elves, though they looked like no elves Kresua or the others had seen before.

    The shortest among them, a woman, stood over six and a half feet tall. They were swathed in dark green cloaks and loose black garments. However, the most striking feature were the woman's eyes. Looking into her eyes was akin to staring into an inky void on the darkest of nights. She had no pupils, no white of her eyes, and not a hint of color.

    "Who the hell are you people?" Kresua asked gruffly.

    The exhausted elf girl looked up at the dragonborn in terror and quickly crawled away from him, seeking shelter at the feet of the three unusual elves that accompanied her. The black-eyed woman smiled and gently pulled the small elf up to a standing position.

    "We are Caransil," she answered, her voice soft and calm. "This is our guide, an Esundiril."

    "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Kirk said, scratching the back of his head.

    "We're wood elves," snapped one of the tall elven men. "Our guide is a snow elf."

    "My Lady," said the other elf man to the black-eyed woman, "We have no time to deal with tomb raiders. We have far more pressing matters at hand."

    "We aren't tomb raiders. What's going on here?" Acuse asked irritably.

    "We are being pursued by the forces of Izrador," the pale elf girl answered.

    "Izrador?" Kresua repeated, confused.

    "You mean you don't know who that is?" the scout asked in bewilderment.

    "Ashayla, you can inform them later," the elven woman said softly. "Right now, I think these strangers could be of use to us."

    Kresua folded his arms over his chest. "We don't know you. Why should we help?"

    "You're trapped in here by them, same as us," the black-eyed elf replied. "With your aid we could break their lines and be on our way."

    "I have a bad feeling about this," Kirk muttered suspiciously.

  29. - Top - End - #359
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    I seem to have an amazing talent for killing threads ...

  30. - Top - End - #360
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    Default Re: D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

    Not at all; you're just the only one brave enough to post a snippet during the holidays I read it and loved it. I should have your comments finished at lunch today.
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