D&D Snippets

[Lady Moreta]

Lately, I have taken to writing up portions from our D&D game into little vignettes, all in first person.

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

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

So, without further adue...

Why Girls Shouldn't Kiss
(or A Bad Day for Will Saves)

Spoiler

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don't Mess With Those Who Can Mess Back
(or Next Session is Going to Be Fun)

Spoiler

I’m just staring out into the darkness at the moment, wondering if there’s anything out there to see. It’s pitch black, but I can see in shades of grey out to where I think the tree line is. Shades of grey, except for that one spot. There, all I can see is white and silver waving at me. It undulates, only vaguely face-shaped, round like a child’s. White worms appear and disappear, whipping up around the face, curling around thin thin fingers. A child?

… A child with no face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I cannot sleep” somehow I’m not surprised

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

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

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

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

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

“Go to sleep Lester.”

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

And finally...

A Paladin's Pain
(or The Same Story as Above, Told from the Paladin's Perspective)

Spoiler

May the Lord of Light forgive me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I cannot sleep.” there is a pause,

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

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

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

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

Lord of Light, I am sorry. Forgive me.

[Esser-Z]

...I like this concept. I may steal it.

[Greenish]

Vicious and crushing literary criticism (not for the faint of heart):

Spoiler

It's spelled "snippets".

[Lady Moreta]

Originally Posted by Greenish

Vicious and crushing literary criticism (not for the faint of heart):

Spoiler

It's spelled "snippets".

Ouch! you got me.

At least you didn't crit

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

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

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

[lord pringle]

would you mind if I did this? I had this Idea for a while but I haven't started yet.

[Lady Moreta]

Of course not the more the merrier.

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

[lord pringle]

should I do it on this thread or what?

[Lady Moreta]

Might as well post them here Keep it all together, and you never know, we might entice others to start writing as well.

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

I shall eagerly await your writing, Lord Pringle.

[lord pringle]

here it is! The story of tanner wolf chapter one:
Don't talk henchman.
((or Brilliant plan, idiot))

Spoiler

“Ok listen. It didn’t work the first four times, WHY would it work now? I said tapping my furry little feet as I glared at the wizard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Lady Moreta]

Okay, first reaction: "awww, cute little rat" Yes, I am tired, why do you ask?

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

Originally Posted by lord pringle

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

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

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

But any story that ends with the lines:

Originally Posted by lord pringle

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

has got to be good

[The Pressman]

Notice the title above, if you will.

[aberratio ictus]

Originally Posted by Lady Moreta

Were you able to figure out that's what happened, or is it too hard to tell?

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

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

[lord pringle]

Originally Posted by Lady Moreta

Okay, first reaction: "awww, cute little rat" Yes, I am tired, why do you ask?

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

Originally Posted by Lady Moreta

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



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

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

it worked on word before I copypasted

Originally Posted by Lady Moreta

But any story that ends with the lines:



has got to be good

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

[FuryOfMetal]

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

[Lady Moreta]

Originally Posted by aberratio ictus

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

High praise indeed, thanks

Originally Posted by aberratio ictus

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

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

Originally Posted by lord pringle

it worked on word before I copypasted

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

Originally Posted by lord pringle

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

Yay! More!

Originally Posted by FuryOfMetal

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

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

[big teej]

I am intrigued...... (dun dun dun)

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



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

hmmmmm -brainstorming-

[lord pringle]

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

[Lady Moreta]

Originally Posted by big teej

I am intrigued...... (dun dun dun)

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

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

hmmmmm -brainstorming-

Thanks

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

Originally Posted by lord pringle

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

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

[lord pringle]

Originally Posted by Lady Moreta

Thanks

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



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

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

[big teej]

Originally Posted by Lady Moreta

Thanks

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

you're welcome

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

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

thus, the Skulltaker walks the multiverse.

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

which will also be tomorrow....



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

[Lord_Gareth]

Oh dear god, I must write something.

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

May I? Please?

[big teej]

Originally Posted by Lord_Gareth

Oh dear god, I must write something.

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

May I? Please?

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


PSA:

Spoiler

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

[Lord_Gareth]

Chaos Theory
Or: I Know How the Fried Bard Shrieks

Spoiler

The padded clothing under my armor itched like hell, and I was sweating buckets staring out at the room beyond the shattered door frame.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Lady Moreta]

Originally Posted by big teej

thus, the Skulltaker walks the multiverse.

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

That sounds - legendary

Originally Posted by big teej

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

PSA:

Spoiler

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

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

Originally Posted by Lord_Gareth

Chaos Theory
Or: I Know How the Fried Bard Shrieks

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

Definite highlights:

Originally Posted by Lord_Gareth

Spoiler

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

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

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

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

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

[Lord_Gareth]

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

Next up:

Spider Bard
Or: Paranoia is Your Only Friend

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

[Lady Moreta]

Oh my word. And then can you tell the story of the longsword. Please?

[Lord_Gareth]

Spider Bard
Or: Paranoia is Your Only Friend

Spoiler

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Lady Moreta]

Originally Posted by Helmuth

Notice the title above, if you will.

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

Happy now?

Originally Posted by Lord_Gareth

Spider Bard
Or: Paranoia is Your Only Friend

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

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

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

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

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

[big teej]

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

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

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

anyways
here's my first 'snippet'

Spoiler

A day in the life of Sohn of the Riverheart

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All is as it should be...

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

[Lady Moreta]

Originally Posted by big teej

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

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

Originally Posted by big teej

anyways
here's my first 'snippet'

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

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

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

As an example from what you've written:

Originally Posted by big teej

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

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

Spoiler

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

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

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

Damn Charis
or How I Joined The Army

Spoiler

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes Charis? What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn Charis.