D&D Snippets II: The Snippetting

[Dr Bwaa]

@Mabs

Spoiler

"The agreement was that there was to be no weapons that could seriously harm.”

I like this agreement a lot; the phrasing is a little weird though (and "was" should be "were").

Rex flashed a grin at those words, and even Rachel smirked just a little. The vampire looked furious themselves at those words, and in a flash had drawn his large, ornate gun – and then all hell broke loose.

This is a good scene and setup, but the phrasing is a bit awkward (and needs a bit of general proofing). Besides that, I think you could take out both instances of "those words"--all the reader needs is the context to understand why Rex is grinning and Alistair is furious, so the extra specificity just breaks the flow. Also, "large, ornate gun"--I really want more detail here! We haven't seen this gun before and it sounds like it deserves a real introduction.

The Uratha bulled the Vampire to the ground with a smashed the gun out of his grip, grinning ferociously at the creature as the firearm went bouncing off into the darkness.

The first part of this sentence needs some proofing; you've got some extra words floating around in there. Also "at the creature" is unnecessary specificity again in my opinion.

“Come here, puppy. You’ve been a bad dog.” She sneered in a thick Russian accent

If she's got a thick Russian accent, she's probably not super comfortable in English, so she won't be using contractions like "you've". "You have been bad dog" is much easier to hear in the accent than what you have there.

he put on far more muscle than he had in Urhan – he was built like a tank; the nails he had in Urhan becoming large knife-like claws; his head becoming larger and thicker like that of a pit bull, his jaws parting wider as he snarled louder, tongue flashing out over monstrous bone-crushing teeth. He was to Urhan what Dalu was to Hishu; Urshal, a giant wolf straight out of nightmare.

I'm sure this makes sense in-setting, but honestly all the name-drops just distracted from what you were actually saying. If you want to leave one or two in that's fine, but I think counting on your readers being familiar enough with the setting not to be distracted is a little dangerous.

In her panic she leapt onto the limo with supernatural grace; her high heels not being suited to such a task snapped and skittered out from under her. She landed hard on her front

This is pretty incongruous--she's moving with supernatural grace, but she manages to snap both her heels off and land on her face?

The fairy had got in a few good blows

If vampires are literally fairies in this setting, fine. Otherwise, you should be aware here of your narrator (impartial up to this point) using the 'wolves' slang to describe the vampires.

the shape that everything learned to fear.

"The shape that everything feared" feels cleaner--seems to me nothing's very likely to get much of a chance to "learn" to fear this form.

his gurgling, twice dying corpse

Took me a second to get "twice-dying" but I like it

“You should consider taking up something else other than diplomacy, Rachel.”

"else other than"--more unnecessary repetition. Also, why this comment? Rachel barely got any mention besides her good moment at the beginning--did I miss her doing something particularly spectactular combat-wise? All I see is her helping harass Alexander until Ross can get there and deal with him.

Nice snippet--and entertaining combat, if pretty one-sided. Might be good to adjust your phrasing here and there to make it feel a little less so--make it seem less like the vamps are completely screwed from the get-go. That'll give you some tension that would make the scene more gripping. I look forward to seeing more!

@mebecronck

Spoiler

I have been complimented many times

I try to make a habit of only complimenting people slightly less than they deserve. Mr. Twain presumably had me in mind when he said that. I'm glad to see you're joining in in a more official capacity though! Now, onward to the harassmentcritique!

monks that have long ago taken a vow of silence.

There's a tense issue here; "have" should be "had", or better yet, just "silent monks". You may have noticed people (especially Lady Moreta and I) praising people here and there for particularly concise phrases; as a rule, less is usually more.

one of two monks that decided not to take the vow of silence

This crops up a few other places too. Anytime your subject is a person (or reasonably person-like entity), backreferences should be "who", not "that".

He fought his way into the Ninth Layer of Hell and slapped (with his long sword) Asmodeus right across the face, and returned to tell the tale.

For some reason I can't quite put my finger on, this phrasing bugs me.

Upon reaching her teens, she was left to the care of the Monastery.

Where did she live before this? Was her father part of the monastery? If she was otherwise just a regular kid (albeit daughter of a war hero), this would be a huge transition for her--expound on that maybe; give us some insight into Jessica as a person by showing how she deals with this sort of upheaval.

Upon these visits, he will occasionally bring an old traveling buddy.

Here and elsewhere you've got some tense problems; usually you seem to drift into a more-present sort of tense than is really called for. Like here, "will" should be "would"; you're in a flashback so the past-perfect is probably the appropriate tense (see my grammar note a few posts ago if you want). Your next paragraph jumps almost entirely into present tense for a while so I won't mention it again, but just be aware that there's a bunch more tense stuff that I'm not mentioning.

He stands over everyone else around him, even with the fact that he stands hunched over.

I think the first "stands" here should be something more descriptive--both for the sake of description, and to avoid repeating the word. Cronc likely "looms" or "towers".

Tremendously strong muscles

Because of how muscles generally work, "tremendous muscles" is nicer here. It just reads a little more smoothly, and lets the reader make the conclusion without forcing it.

muscles bulge from everywhere but his belly, which is girthed over from too much meat and booze (his primary diet)

Hahahaha. Great detail (but I think you can leave out the parenthetical; it doesn't really add anything in my opinion.

Scars cover his body, a sign of many battles and extreme combat experience.

Likewise here; it's nicer to read if you don't force the conclusions down the reader's throat. We know what heavy scarring means in this context.

He slams his axe head first into the ground and shouts, "JESS!" at the top of his lungs.

I really like this image

After which, Cronc would share stories of recent adventures.

"After which" isn't a clause by itself. If you want to use this phrasing, it needs to be attached to the previous sentence. Personally I like it more as a new paragraph the way you have it, so if you pick a replacement for "which", you'll be fine (eg. "After this ritual" or just "After this").

They would mostly entail of giant monsters coming out to attack Cronc, and then Cronc smashed them.

Haha, love it. My only complaint here is that "entail" doesn't take any helping words. You want either "They would mostly entail giant monsters..." or "They would mostly consist of giant monsters...".

"Wat yu wunt do?" No matter what she answered, he would find some way to make it happen. Regardless of his limited skill set.

D'awwww.

You see, Cronc had a very poor childhood. In his youth he had but one friend.

D'AWWWWWWWWWWW. I like this "you see" transition by the way, despite it being pretty much entirely inconsistent with the rest of the narration. I almost want you to switch the whole thing over to this sort of dialogue-with-the-reader, except then it probably wouldn't work as well here, where it delivers a great sense of intimacy. Hrm.

On one trip out into the woods, she suggested taking a dip in a small pound. However, Cronc never learned how to swim. She insisted she could teach him and dived right in. She hit hard in the shallow water and laid motionless, face-down on the surface. Cronc tried to save her, but it was too late.

Poor Cronc. One thought though--in the preceding paragraph, give the girl a name, and then use it again here. I wasn't sure whether you were talking about the childhood friend or Jess at this point.

He was blamed for the girls death and chased out of town.

*girl's

The other was a pathological fear of water.

Hrm. I... guess I understand this? Was Cronc still quite young at the time, I assume? I think this would be easier to accept if you went into more detail about the girl's drowning and Cronc's efforts to save her. Make it very clear (at least to Cronc) that the water was the culprit in the situation; personify it; make it feel threatening to Cronc's happiness in an ongoing sense. Then Cronc's fear is much easier to swallow.

The only thing interesting to read was Henry's secret stash of adventure novels.

Henry is the other monk that forego the vow of silence.

Two things. First, don't introduce a character without indroducing him first; it's just confusing. It can work in dialogue sometimes, but when your stated purpose is an expository narration, it only serves to make me feel like I missed something. Second, here is an instance where using the right tense would actually just make your job easier. "Forego" is an obnoxious verb to conjucate the way you're trying to do it ("forewent" is actually the correct term here ). Since Henry made the decision not to take the Vow in the past, and it's not an ongoing thing or anything, the Past Perfect is the appropriate tense--and it's conveniently way nicer to deal with in this case. "Henry was the other monk who had foregone the vow of silence."

A portly man with an equally large curiosity

I'm a big fan of this construction. This is one of the few cases when repetition works better than not--it's much smoother to read "equally large" if you describe him as "large" as well.

Whenever Jessica would visit, Henry would let her read whichever adventure novel he just recently finished. Rarely having two copies of any novel, he would then wait eagerly to share notes on the story.

Best book club ever. Question though--Jessica is visiting? I thought she lived there by this point?

books were pale succour to the real thing. She was sure.

I like the sentiment, but "succour" is not the word you want it to be; it means aid or assistance in a time of great stress.

She was gifted with the talent of healing through the divine.

You have a great opportunity here to show the reader, rather than simply tell it. How is this gift expressed? How did she find out? Are there many opportunities for her to practice divine healing on the silent monks on this secluded island? Especially since this is going to be, in large part, how the PCs define her (The Healer (TM)), some elaboration on her abilities, rather than just one line telling it outright, would be very nice.

It took quiet a bit of convincing

*quite

but having pointed out that she can never truly grow living on this island

"pointed out" doesn't feel like a lot of effort. This makes it feel like she went "but daaaaaaaaaaaaad I can't grow up for real on an island in the middle of nowhere!" and her dad went "oh, you know what, that's a really going point that I'd never considered before! My other arguments are now invalid; go and be free!" Obviously I'm exaggerating, but generally speaking, no one reverses a decision based on one small thing (especially a particularly philosophical point like that one, coming from a sixteen-year-old). Honestly I'd probably either leave out the how of her convincing him, or else put the lofty words in the father's mouth--that gives you a chance to characterize the father a bit too, by showing how he reacts to his daughter's choice. Does he rationalize? Patronize? Support? Later on you seem to lean toward the latter, but there's a good opportunity here to show more about her home life (such as it is).

I'm out to see the world ... and to finally stretch out my wings."

This is a great ending line. I think I'd like it more if you alluded to her wings a bit more throughout the story; how she wasn't allowed to fly more than a league from the island; something to demonstrate in a concrete way that she's been wanting to "stretch her wings".

For a non-snippet, this was definitely pretty snippety in my book! I hope you keep writing these; as I've mentioned I like reading background to the other stories that show up in here, and I really enjoy NPC backgrounds and motivations like this tidbit. As a fellow DM who tends to put much more thought than necessary into NPCs, only to have the players inevitably kill them, cast them aside, or forget about them, I like to see the world outside the story developed like this.

@Winds

Spoiler

Just a quick note here:

My foreshadowing needs more practice, I guess.

The problem isn't with the foreshadowing itself. I would have liked this if you'd been referring to something in the same snippet. The problem is just leaving it for later snippets that bothers me, because I get to the end of this one and feel like I've missed something (specifically, the something you suggested at the beginning). So it's not the foreshadowing itself that bugged me so much as the fact that you're foreshadowing across snippets.

...Obviously the fix is to make your snippets triple the length so you won't have to do this.

@SleepyShadow

Spoiler

Despite her reassurances, Lupin and Derive 'knew' that something terrible was going to happen.

Awesome. OOC knowledge is the best knowledge.

turnip wine

Haha. As usual, I love your details.

Suddenly, a hand gripped him by the shoulder. Screaming like an eight year old girl, he scrambled away from his supposed attacker and bolted out of the alley. He tripped on the curb and fell into the street, turning around with his gun pointed at the alley.

"Whatcha doing?" Lucy asked curiously as she exited the darkness of the alley.

Great scene. I can only imagine the OOC situation in the room

"Chasing hobos," Lucy answered with an innocent smile.

Uh... lol? Consider me entertained though, hehe.

"Trouble," Lupin said bluntly.

This feels like it should be a response to a question. I don't know if you really need to change it, but it was a little off-putting; I went back to see if I'd missed a question asked by Lucy in there someplace.

Lupin glanced intermittently at Sara and Jonathan, and every time it seemed as if Mr. Long had pressed himself more firmly against her as he whispered into her ear.

Technically there's nothing wrong with this, but the phrasing "every time it seemed as if" makes me want it to continue "...as if X, but really Y". If you switch around the way you phrase that it might be a little less jarring.

the floor to the theater collapsed, causing another chorus of screams to reverberate across the room.

A couple things; I think the floor caving in might merit a little more description. Second, saying "something really catastrophic happened, causing screaming" just feels really bland; I'm pretty sure it's just the "causing" transition. I'd keep the theater collapse in a separate sentence from the moviegoers' reactions, and not mention explicitly that one caused the other--give the reader a little credit here; I think I can figure out that they're screaming because the floor imploded.

massive amorphous ball of black and silver film.

Very cool.

"Tentacles," Derive grumbled. "Figures."

Well sure, of course. Looking forward to seeing (A) how badly the fight inevitably goes, and (B) how Derive responds to how badly the fight inevitably goes.

@Lady Moreta

Spoiler

I... don't quite get what you mean here.

I was just referring to how you've got her learning about other things pretty young girls can sell at 18, but not that she would do it herself until age 19. It implies some unpleasant learning experiences. I was just saying that you could elaborate on it if you wanted; it seems like there could be a good (if not uplifting) story there. Not that you need to by any means, the implied story is good enough, but just that you could.

Technically, Leonora is younger than Lukas, and also shorter/smaller, so yes, she is the little sister it was also meant as a kind of telling comment on the way they see themselves. There's not a huge difference between them in age (or height for that matter), but she still refers to herself as the 'little' sister because that's how Lukas sees her.

That's about what I figured, just wanted to make sure

@PaperMustache

Spoiler

First, welcome! I seem to be writing out this disclaimer a lot these days (not that I'm complaining). Here it is again! If you don't want me to critique your work, or if there's something in particular you want me to focus on, let me know! Otherwise I'll just do whatever it is I end up doing, come hells and/or Gates to the plane of Water.

Before I get into specific comments, the first thing that jumps out at me is that you could really use some more section breaks. What you've got would look fine in a real text editor with first-line indentation, but as the forum doesn't provide that, it's much cleaner if you put an extra line between paragraphs to break it up visually a bit. That aside, onwards!

If I had to have guessed I would say the goods were bought cheaper elsewhere. Those who shopped in this district did so because if they ever met the real masters, they would gasp at the horror of associating with one so below their status.

Very interesting and a very nice display of the social climate. I'm loving all your descriptions so far.

They basically cried out for mistreatment by their very nature.

We're getting some good exposition on the character of the speaker, too, although it's not clear yet what tone this is carrying. It could still be either pity or disdain, but if the writing keeps up like it has I have no doubt we'll find out which it is soon enough.

It was an inconvenience to walk to far from the main gates. We rounded several corners.

*too. Also, these two sentences feel really bland compared to the prose they're couched in. I might attach the second sentence to the one that follows it; "We rounded several corners, finding less glamour...etc." or something like that.

“Good day to ya’ lads ‘n lassie. What c’n I do for yeh?”

I do enjoy an accent

“We’re looking for healing potions” the lonely barbarian answered.

Lonely? Why is he lonely? This feels like a very strange word choice.

“How about 40 for one?” I offered politely.
“Aye lass, that sounds fair.” He said, blinking through the fog in his mind as he regarded me as a dear friend, “that, or 10 for 350.”

Ha! Nice negotiation skills, though I'd prefer to see the speaker casting the spell than seeing the Dwarf reacting to it--the speaker doesn't have access to other people's thoughts, so this knowledge of the Dwarf's feelings--even though the speaker does know what the results should be of the spell--comes across as pretty strange.

Our lonely barbarian

Again this lonely barbarian thing. I don't get it! It seems like a joke? The barbarian does seem to be the guy who starts up all the conversations; is it in reference to that?

against my wishes the business of introductions was initiated.

Ha, love it.

“By asmodeous left testicle!” the paladin shouted, “Lass! What is WRONG with your shoulder?”

Awesome. Great diffusion of the big buildup, and great outburst from this paladin. And he just keeps going with it! God I love paladins

They were realizing they had nothing to lose and they were ready to do something about it. This city was on the brink of a revolution.

I think the last sentence is unnecessary here. You've done a good job implying it; the final explicit line detracts a bit from the subtlety that I really enjoyed in the rest of the paragraph.

“raze the city and report to me any new developments. I will be watching.”

Woah what? I was totally with you up until this point. Install a not-really-stabilizing leader, sure. Seem to help the brotherhood, sure. Raze the city--what? If this is just meant as a longer-term goal, sure, but if that's the case I think it ought to be clarified a bit in the Big Bad's speech.


Overall, I'm really impressed--this was a great pleasure to read. I hope you change your mind about the rest of the campaign--if you went to the effort to write all that up, it would be a real shame to leave it all rotting on a hard drive someplace.

[Lady Moreta]

Originally Posted by Dr Bwaa

I was just referring to how you've got her learning about other things pretty young girls can sell at 18, but not that she would do it herself until age 19. It implies some unpleasant learning experiences. I was just saying that you could elaborate on it if you wanted; it seems like there could be a good (if not uplifting) story there. Not that you need to by any means, the implied story is good enough, but just that you could.

Ahh right... yes the reason for that is... stuff.. and sod... I shouldn't try replying to things when I have a thumping headache. There is an answer for that and a reason as to why I wrote it that way, but that's gonna have to wait til my head doesn't feel like it's going to fall off.

Likewise, PaperMustache, I read your snippet and I loved it (especially the last line), but any sensible response will have to wait...

[PaperMustache]

Wow, thank you for the welcome and the great criticism Dr Bwaa. I've gone about making some of the changes you suggested. It definitely looks better with the line breaks. Some clarifications, though.

Spoiler

Lonely? Why is he lonely? This feels like a very strange word choice.

That description made a whole lot more sense with the parts directly before this when the barbarian was explained. Basically barbarians in this setting aren't loners but his tribe was wiped out when he was young. He talks about the lore of his tribe often and has some great destiny involving joining the tribes and leading them to salvation. He's a really great character, but he isn't mine and it felt weird writing for him. I'll just make up a name, since I can't remember what his player actually calls him.

Ha! Nice negotiation skills, though I'd prefer to see the speaker casting the spell than seeing the Dwarf reacting to it--the speaker doesn't have access to other people's thoughts, so this knowledge of the Dwarf's feelings--even though the speaker does know what the results should be of the spell--comes across as pretty strange.

I moved some stuff around, but it feels a little awkward to me this way.

Woah what? I was totally with you up until this point. Install a not-really-stabilizing leader, sure. Seem to help the brotherhood, sure. Raze the city--what? If this is just meant as a longer-term goal, sure, but if that's the case I think it ought to be clarified a bit in the Big Bad's speech.

Going back and reading that again, you're totally right. It made sense in the actual session, but here it's hilariously out of place. Fixed the crap out of that.

I'm really flattered that you took the time to critique my snippet. If I can I'll try my best to return the favor. Thanks so much!

Likewise, PaperMustache, I read your snippet and I loved it (especially the last line), but any sensible response will have to wait...

Gah! Thanks.

[SleepyShadow]

Originally Posted by Dr Bwaa

Well sure, of course. Looking forward to seeing (A) how badly the fight inevitably goes, and (B) how Derive responds to how badly the fight inevitably goes.

Wow, you make my players sound completely incompetent when you put it that way

[Dr Bwaa]

Originally Posted by SleepyShadow

Wow, you make my players sound completely incompetent when you put it that way

I do what I can. I think it has to do with the fact that even when your players win, they somehow make it feel like (to me at least) it was a hilarious disaster anyway.

[mebecronck]

@Dr Bwaa

"Argh! Ego bruised ... the pain ..."

Just kidding. Thanks for the critique. As for the grammar/spelling issues ... I blame the late hours. Surely it couldn't be me.

(Ego restored)

Now to the rest of the critiques.

Spoiler

There's a tense issue here; "have" should be "had", or better yet, just "silent monks". You may have noticed people (especially Lady Moreta and I) praising people here and there for particularly concise phrases; as a rule, less is usually more.

Personally, I don't think "Silent Monks" would tell the same story. Saying "Silent Monks" makes me think of them as being particularly quiet, instead of "Vow of Silence", which says they never talk. That's just my opinion.

For some reason I can't quite put my finger on, this phrasing bugs me.

As for the issues that result from any and all revelations of Jessica's father. I am intentionally not shedding any light on him. The character is ... well ... ummm ... over the top? *shrugs* I just don't want to tell anything about him until I delved a little more into the world and ... once I'm more comfortable with writing. I'm also quite sure that if I do give him details a lot of people are going to point and shout "Marty Stu/Mary Sue".

Probably well deserved, too.

So, whenever I came to a point were I felt I had to address him, I tried my best to find a way to get through as quickly as possible while covering all detail I thought was necessary.

Where did she live before this? Was her father part of the monastery? If she was otherwise just a regular kid (albeit daughter of a war hero), this would be a huge transition for her--expound on that maybe; give us some insight into Jessica as a person by showing how she deals with this sort of upheaval.

I am thinking about writing some short stories about all the things she been through between her leaving the island and meeting with the party. So, I am leaving some things out so I might give more details later.

Plus, she lived with her dad before. Ref. Prev. Ans.

Hahahaha. Great detail (but I think you can leave out the parenthetical; it doesn't really add anything in my opinion.

The parenthetical was for emphasis. Trust me, you still have no idea.

You will soon, though. More Cronc later in new backstories. I can write a whole book on just this one character. For good reason, he was one of my first characters as a player.

Hrm. I... guess I understand this? Was Cronc still quite young at the time, I assume? I think this would be easier to accept if you went into more detail about the girl's drowning and Cronc's efforts to save her. Make it very clear (at least to Cronc) that the water was the culprit in the situation; personify it; make it feel threatening to Cronc's happiness in an ongoing sense. Then Cronc's fear is much easier to swallow.

I always thought of it as an escape for Cronc. Deep down he blames himself for his friend's death, but admitting to it would mean that the townsfolk that chased him off were right. He doesn't want to accept that, so he blamed the only other than that would make sense.

The water.

This horrific thing that was able to stop him from saving his friend. He views it as something that is stronger than him; something that he can't smash.

... but anyways ... I didn't go into much detail here because "The Psychology of Cronc" was not the title of this work. I went into further detail than I planned, but I blame it on the fact that I like this character so much.

Best book club ever. Question though--Jessica is visiting? I thought she lived there by this point?

You will understand when I post my next world piece, "The Island". For now, "the monastery is bigger than you are imagining it."

I like the sentiment, but "succour" is not the word you want it to be; it means aid or assistance in a time of great stress.

DAMMIT! Where are you Thesaurus! How dare you betray me again!

"pointed out" doesn't feel like a lot of effort. This makes it feel like she went "but daaaaaaaaaaaaad I can't grow up for real on an island in the middle of nowhere!" and her dad went "oh, you know what, that's a really going point that I'd never considered before! My other arguments are now invalid; go and be free!" Obviously I'm exaggerating, but generally speaking, no one reverses a decision based on one small thing (especially a particularly philosophical point like that one, coming from a sixteen-year-old). Honestly I'd probably either leave out the how of her convincing him, or else put the lofty words in the father's mouth--that gives you a chance to characterize the father a bit too, by showing how he reacts to his daughter's choice. Does he rationalize? Patronize? Support? Later on you seem to lean toward the latter, but there's a good opportunity here to show more about her home life (such as it is).

Ref. back to generic dad answer. It doesn't feel like a lot of effort, because it was a lot of effort. A lot of effort as in, "Pull the tooth out as quickly as possible, dentist. I want this over with."

This is a great ending line. I think I'd like it more if you alluded to her wings a bit more throughout the story; how she wasn't allowed to fly more than a league from the island; something to demonstrate in a concrete way that she's been wanting to "stretch her wings".

I thought I did describe her wings ... didn't I ...

...

Ah! Here it is ... all ... the ... way ... back in the first paragraph.

Huh?

Yeah, perhaps I should have said more about them.

Also, loved how you "Dawwed" at every point where I intended. Shows that I did something right in there.

I have applied some of the fixes to the "snippet". The rest would require a rewrite to certain sections, so, it will have to wait until I'm more in the mood.

@Everyone

I feel a bit of inspiration. This is going to be a short one, and not a real snippet. It never happened in any campaign, but I think might be a fun read. I might start a series of shorts on it ... that is if it takes off. For now, I'm just treating it as writing practice.

Cronc goes to Anger Management

Spoiler

"Now, Mr. Cronc, let me begin by saying how happy I am with you for coming in to see me." Dr. Rhodes says in a calm voice, hiding his fear by flipping through his notebook, "This is the first step in managing your anger issues."

"Wuy Cronc lae on cowt?" Cronc barked.

"You don't need to lay down if you don't want to. Would you prefer to sit, or even stand?"

"No! Cronc wunt lae on cowt!"

"Okay?! Now, the first thing I would like us to focus on is how to turn your anger into more constructive means of of expressions. As opposed to destructive outbursts of rage."

"CUN ... STRE ..." Cronc tries to repeat the word, forcing each syllable. He does not know what it means and thinking about it is giving him a headache.

"Constructive" Dr. Rhodes interrupts, "it means to make things, not break things."

"OHHH! Cronc bracke tings reel gud!" Cronc shouted with joy, as he jumped up from the couch, axe in hand.

"No! No! DON'T! CRONC!"

***

A sign in front of a lot filled with debris. Reads simply, "Practice of Dr. Rhodes - Closed due to lack of building."

Dr. Rhodes stands in front of it. Slumped forward with a frown upon his face. Cronc approaches him and pats him on the back, knocking the doctor down.

"Cronc du reel gud, yah!"

[PaperMustache]

@ Cronc Goes to Anger Management
I loled. I wish signs that say "Closed Due to Lack of Building" existed.

Hey guys... I wrote another one. Um... yeah.... I don't know why I did that. You don't have to read it, if you don't want to. Especially not since I haven't even critiqued anyone else's. I just had a mighty need to write stupid amounts of combat scenes... god I'm sorry this exists.

The Destruction of Amolarr: Part 2

Spoiler

Tension woke me early the next morning, for my first task today would likely be the most challenging. How was I to convince a noble paladin and a loyal barbarian to support an unabashedly tyrannical politician when they knew how much was at stake? No doubt the fighter would simply side with Malakar whatever his choice, as he was easily swayed and the barbarian was a kind and natural leader. Bronn was a lost cause from the start, there are no shades of grey in the mind of a holy warrior. Malakar, however, would do anything to ensure the survival of his tribesmen. If I could mislead him into thinking the election of Kathull would be in their best interests he would play directly into my hands.

It was with the beginnings of a scheme in mind that I joined my companions for breakfast. I found them huddled around a table downstairs, wiping the sleep from their eyes over hot tea and biscuits. The advantage was mine if I caught Malakar unprepared, so I forewent a more companionable greeting and cut to the quick.

“So I’ve been thinking” I announced as I pulled up a chair next to the drowsy barbarian, “as far as the candidates for counselor go, the correct choice might not be as obvious as we initially thought.”

“One of ‘ems a good man, the other’s a scheming evil maniac like you” he grumbled back, sharper than I had anticipated. I opted to ignore the insult for the present, mostly because he was right.

“That much is true” I conceded politely, “but have you given any thought as to who the people of the city might deem a more palatable choice?”

“Way I see it, the dwarves want Soluth, and all the noble types want Kathul” he reasoned, I could see him second guessing himself, “that’s a half and half split, yeh?”

“Not quite” I clarified, “the sides might be split fairly evenly, but Kathul’s supporters carry more weight in status and wealth. It will be much easier to sway favor to him because he represents the status quo. If we support him, he will win faster than his opponent. If we are to stop a bloody revolution from breaking out, Kathul is the obvious choice to stabilize this city quickly.”

“But Kathul is ruthless, if he is elected many will suffer” Malakar countered.

“If we take too long, everyone will suffer” I replied, setting the final trap, “including your precious tribes who rely on these people for trade.”

“The tribes of Falcon and Salamander have no business with this city” he retorted indignantly, “only the northern tribes rely on Amolar.”

“You’re right” I conceded as the trap closed in around him, “how ignorant of me. I was under the impression that you cared for all the tribes.”

Though he was much more intelligent than your average barbarian warrior, Malakar was still no match for a professional negotiator of my status. Having won his favor, the fighter fell into line just as I had anticipated. Only Bronn failed to join my cause. He sat quietly as I argued with the barbarian. As a dwarf of this city, I assumed he would be seething in anger and frustration at my success. If he was there was no sign of anger on his face.

“I cannot assist you in this deed” he said finally, “and I beg you to reconsider. My people will suffer and evil will have won if another noble sits on the council.”

I spoke quickly, before Malakar could reconsider, “our decision has been made. You came to us wanting to lend us aid and we have allowed you to keep our company, but your code does not dictate our actions.”

My harsh words did not infuriate him as I had hoped. He stood up from the table and gave me a calculating smile, “then I shall rejoin you after this matter has been dealt with.” With that, he departed from us.

After breakfast we set out to establish ourselves as Kathul’s allies. His offices were difficult to find, and there were armed guards outside. The blank faced defenders refused to let us pass, informing us that only those who had proven their loyalty to Kathul’s cause were permitted to enter. They initially refused to answer any further questions, but our persistence won out. Normally supporters proved their loyalty by representing their chosen candidate in the city arena: a bloody spectacle attended by nobles and peasants alike. Success in the arena earned the trust of the candidate.

The prospect of a day of arena fighting enthused my companions more so than it did me. Words were my weapons, and I wielded them with deadly effect, but the language of swords and blood was not one in which I was fluent. Still, it put my companions in a more favorable mood on our walk to the arena. They took precious little notice of me as they discussed tactics and strategy in excited tones.

It was decided that I was to stay out of their way during the fights. Based on my performance in previous skirmishes, I was not to use any offensive spells. Rather, I would stay behind my team mates and provide defensive support. I tried to argue that it would take only a few seconds to perform the full extent of my protective magics and that I might be of some use in short range with my claws. Instead Malakar pressed a crossbow into my hands and very conscendingly taught me the basics of pointing and shooting. It was during this humiliation that Bronn rejoined us briefly on our walk. I was right to worry that I hadn’t seen the last of him. The nosey dwarf seemed to have followed us from as far back as the tavern. He refused Malakar’s offer to join us in the arena, still staunch in his opposition to Kathul, but he offered us good will and good luck in our fights. Resigned to impotence, I began to follow my team mates into the arena. Bronn caught me by the shoulder before I could enter.

“Keep your guard up in there, yeh?” He muttered to me with a twinkle in his eye, “I’ve seen more casters get smashed to bits in this competition than anything else.”

“I’ll be fine” I spat at him, as I pushed past him. His presence was a bother and I had no reason to be kind to him.

Inside we were greeted by a weasel of a man in a top hat, the tournament coordinator, who helped us enlist ourselves on the roster. We were made to wait with our competitors in a wide hall. The room was packed with gritty fighters, monstrous contenders like harpies and half orcs, and the odd wizard. Towards the back, out of sight, were prisoners in chains. Barbarians and other ruffians who had been arrested and sentenced to public execution for the pleasure of arena goers.

“Gotta swell line up this afternoon, boys” the man-weasel announced to the room at large, “hope you lot are ready to die horribly! The crowd loves a good spectacle.”

It occurred to me for the first time that I might die here. Bronn’s talk of dead casters began to weigh heavily on my nerves. I couldn’t fight! I shouldn’t be here! I was going to get myself and my friends killed because I never bothered to hone my battle casting skills.

I was suddenly surprised at how worried I was for my companions. They were still bristling with anticipation, ready to take on whatever foes they faced. I had certainly never done them any favors in the past, nor had they done much to win my affection, but all the same I had grown comfortable with them. I knew their weaknesses, how to argue them into submission, how to ruin them. I knew that Howard was fair minded and a determined fighter. I knew that Malakar was loyal, brave, and terrifying in the heat of combat. I hadn’t realized I was growing attached to them. I used this realization to strengthen my resolve. If I was the single most skilled negotiator in this terrible, weak and pathetic land, if my employer was the most cunning and powerful magical force I had ever known, and if that thrice damned paladin was the most annoying person the world would ever see, then by the left testicle of Asmodeus these two idiots were the most dangerous martial force in this competition and we were going to win!

“In this corner, fighting for the favor of councilatory candidate Kathul: Malakar, Howard, and Kepesk!” The announcers voice boomed against the screaming crowds as we took are place in the arena.

Oh god oh god we’re all going to die.

“And, fighting for his own glory, the wizard Damien and his incredible construct of ice and fury!”

I summoned magical armor for my team mates as a terrifyingly huge ice golem plodded past the wizard to stand against us. A bell rang and the fight was on. I watched lamely as Malakar roared in defiance and threw himself at the monster recklessly, his legendary sword caught the sunlight as it sliced into the monster’s side. Howard slid into position beside him and hit with his own blade. I froze in fear as I witnessed the mighty golem turn to face Malakar, hitting him squarely in the chest with one mighty frozen arm.

“Do something” I told myself. I fumbled with the crossbow Malakar had given me, but in my fear I couldn’t remember how to use it. I wracked my brain for ways I could help, observing the golem carefully. Golems are constructed by wizards from different extra-planar materials. Useless. Probably vulnerable to fire as are white dragons. Useless. Slowed by electricity. I don’t remember where I heard that, but okay! I summoned my courage and cast a simple spell, sending a jolt of electricity whizzing toward the construct.

Like I hoped, the golem’s movement slowed just long enough for Malakar to dodge another devastating hit. Howard took the opportunity to hack at the golem’s foot, tripping it and sending it to the ground with a crash. From there it was a simple matter of beating the brute to death, which my friends managed with ease. Cheers went up from the crowd as the wizard screamed in defeat. We were declared victorious.

My companions were empowered by our victory, pumping their fists high to the applause of the crowds. I scanned the audience, not all of them were cheering. Screaming loudest were the nobles, drunk with wine and adrenaline in the balconies far from the bloodshed. In the lower levels, commoners booed us, equally drunk. Somewhere among the commoners I spotted Bronn, clapping along politely. He caught my eye briefly, the corner of his mouth turned up in a cheeky grin. I glared in defiance. He was wrong, I wasn’t dead yet.

My defiance was short lived. As soon as we retreated from the arena floor I had to run to grab a bucket to vomit into. I was shaking, my nerves were shot. I reminded myself that I was a powerful sorceress, an agent of the mirror realm. I stood against ancient societies, I treated with dragons, I should not be completely crippled by the thought of entering physical combat.

But I was, and I spent the hour and a half of rest we were allowed between matches desperately trying to compose myself. My companions had the good sense to leave me alone. Malakar had been wounded badly. It took half of the potions he had bought yesterday to heal him back into fighting shape, but he grinned through it and let no one see his weakness. His bravado did nothing against the remaining three rounds we had left. At this rate our supplies would not last long enough to heal us fully after each match.

It was all too soon that the weasely coordinator came to retrieve us for our next fight. As we entered the ring we faced two harpies. One had her mouth sewn shut, the threads tore through the nearly healed puncture wounds, giving way to fresh blood as she scowled at us. She was equipped with a mace. The other was unarmed. The announcer called out our names to the cheering crowds, the bell rang, and the fight was on.

As I readied my crossbow, resolute to actually use the thing this time, the second harpy flew forward. She opened her mouth and began to sing beautifully. My nerves melted away and I began to walk towards the mesmerizing sound, only partially aware that I was being controlled. I felt Howard fall into step beside me and we both stopped in front of the harpy. We seemed to stand there for ages listening to her. I could have easily fallen asleep right in the middle of the arena.

I had just began to daydream about flying with the dragons I had known at home when I lived in the south when a horrific screech brought me back to my senses. Malakar was a few feet away, his sword dripped with the blood of the mute harpy. Her sister had cried out in grief when she fell from the sky.
I summoned my dragon claws reflexively as Howard lashed out at the grieving harpy, slicing off a wing and sending her plummeting to the ground. Malakar ran and slashed at her with his legendary blade and I plunged my entire hand deep into the harpy’s chest.

As the crowd cheered, I got a feeling I hadn’t anticipated. I was finally in my element. I scanned the crowd for the drunken nobles I had noticed earlier. If they wanted a spectacle, I could give them one.

In one swift motion I jerked my hand out of the dead harpy’s chest, pulling her severed heart with it and letting the body slump to the ground. I held it high to the cheering nobles as blood dripped down my arm. The crowd ate the scene up, even the commoners were cheering. I had probably ruined my robes, but if I played my cards right it might be worth it. I strode purposefully off the stage, leaving my befuddled companions to follow after me.
During our break I found my way into the stands and up to the high balcony where the drunk nobles were, harpy heart in hand. Rich people were always particularly good targets for a fleecing. I was recognized immediately and another cheer went out to greet me. I found one stumbling drunk elven man who eyed the heart greedily.

“I’m looking for some healing potions” I said casually, “perhaps if you had some we could make a trade?”

“Yesh, gimme that an’ you cun have these” the man slurred, producing three potions that I recognized from the potion master’s shop as cure serious wounds.

I made the trade, glad to be rid of the stinking flesh. It had been disgusting and kept warm from her body heat for much longer than I felt comfortable with. I didn’t bother to wash off, better to remind the audience and my opponents what I was capable of. Lets see the bastards pound this spellcaster into the ground. I met back with my companions. Malakar had been wounded worse than I realized. I supplied a potion of cure serious wounds to him with a fiendish grin.

“Turns out I’m good for something after all.” I mentioned as he uncorked the bottle.

“I’ll drink to that” he replied.

We went into the next round with confidence. My nerves were all but gone, tucked behind pride. As I stood behind my companions I took a moment to appreciate the potential of this situation. If we kept up our winning streak I could very easily make some powerful friends among the nobles. Good connections were worth more than enough to cover the potions we were using.

We were to fight a group representing Soluth this round, an important fight to be sure. This was our first chance to catch Kathul’s eye and win his favor. Our competitors were a band of brothers, of comparable composition to us. They each wore armor, although only two brandished weapons. A wizard in chain mail waited in the back. Hopefully the armor would hinder his spellcasting long enough for us to deal with him. The opponents were introduced, the bell rang and the fight was on.

Immediately Malakar and Howard met blades with the fighters. I started looking for weaknesses, but got nothing useful other than the fact that they put their caster in chainmail. So not very bright. The wizard tried to cast a spell, but failed in a sputter of red sparks. I recognized it as a devastating fire attack. My opponent was certainly more skilled in the arcane than I was, but not so skilled that he could afford to cast that particular spell more than once or twice.

I grinned at him from across the field as if to say, “That’s why you don’t wear armor, idiot.”

The fight seemed to be leaning in our favor for the time being. I ensure that my companions kept up the magical armor I cast on them earlier and fired a crossbow bolt or two at the fighters. All seemed to be going according to plan until Malakar swung too wide and missed his opponent. The fighter was quick to jam his sword deep into the barbarian’s side. He went down hard. I didn’t have time to wonder if he was still alive as the fighter moved to confront me. I summoned my claws and engaged him.

In the end I didn’t have a chance. Howard saw me lash out at the fighter, raking my claws along his face, but I was too easy a target. No sooner had I hit him than he sliced into my chest with his sword. Another second and a magic missile from the wizard knocked me off my feet.

I could feel the opposing spell caster’s satisfaction. “That’s why you wear armor, idiot” I imagined him gloating. I reeled backwards and in an instant all my fear returned. I was going to die. I saw Howard widen his stance to face both fighters at once. I hit the ground painfully and winced as darkness started to overwhelm my vision. I fought to stay conscious. To reach into my bag for a potion, so close but so far away. To cast another spell. To do something! But I was useless again. As I sank into unconsciousness I thought I heard a familiar voice shouting a battlecry in front of me. I must have been hallucinating because through my clouded vision I could have sworn I saw a man fighting at Howard’s side.

I woke up to the world’s most annoying dwarf standing over me, force feeding me a potion. I gasped back to life in his arms, breathing heavily. The two fighters lay dead a few short feet away and the wizard had been killed where he stood a few yards further. Malakar was just getting up, dusting himself off like nothing happened. It finally hit me that the crowd was screaming uncontrollably. Some booed, but the majority cheered. I looked to the paladin for answers.

“Didn’t I tell you to be on your guard out here?” he chided as if we were friends, “c’mon lets get you out of here.” He took my arm and helped me out of the arena, I was too weak to protest.

As Malakar and I tended to our wounds, Howard filled us in on what had happened after I went down. When he saw that we were losing, Bronn flung himself into the ring with a mighty bellow. He took the fighters so by surprise that he cut one of them down before he could react. They doubled up on the second fighter and made short work of him. It seemed the wizard never did get off that powerful fire spell and they made short work of him once his brothers fell.

Bronn was in the corner talking to the coordinator who was gushing about how “amazing” he had been, how the crowds had never cheered louder in all his years of running this arena, how Bronn “simply MUST stay on for the last round.” The paladin was grinning sheepishly and nodding his head. It seemed as if he would be joining us after all.

It took two of our three cure serious potions to restore Malakar and I to any semblance of fighting form, and five cure light potions besides. Before our break was up we were approached by representatives of Kathul’s campaign, telling us that we had proved our worth to the counselor to be and that they were honored by our support. If we managed to slay the final challenge, some exotic monster of legend captured specifically for this event, that we would be welcome in their offices.

We didn’t have a choice in whether or not we wanted to face the final fight, it was implied by our registry and our participation would be enforced by the city guards. The people would get their spectacle. I asked around for information on the challenger, but no one was forthcoming with information.
As we entered the ring, the crowd grew uncharacteristically quiet. A massive gate to the left of us creaked open ominously and four men pulling chains emerged from within. At the end of the chains was a young white dragon. I ached for the condition he was in. Its wings had been cut down to nubs, the part of its throat that facilitated his breath weapon had been gouged beyond repair. At some point the crowd started cheering again, but I was too shocked to hear them. The dragon roared in rage as the handlers let go of his chains, and he swung his massive head to the side to catch one of them as he fled. He gulped the man down in a single swallow, which made me smile. A dragon would not be “handled” by any man. My shock gave way to fury at the thought of abusing such a creature. I must kill the beast, but I could at least give him a clean death. More than I could guarantee the screaming on lookers who spat and threw rocks at the dragon below. It solidified my resolve to burn this city to the ground and force its inhabitants screaming into the mirror realm to become fodder for my master’s endless war.

The fight was on as soon as the dragon was released, my companions rushed forward to attack. I wondered if they knew that this dragon wasn’t able to use its breath weapon. It made no matter, as I ran to join them. I was out of spells so I summoned my dragon claws, a fitting weapon.

The fight was hard, as every blow Malakar struck with his legendary sword sent the beast into fits of rage, it clawed at us and sunk it’s fangs into the barbarian’s chest. Howard hacked at the dragons legs in a miserable attempt to trip the beast. Bronn’s weapon shone with holy magic that enraged the dragon ever further. I was knocked back at some point in the fight and forced to use what little ranged weaponry I could manage.

The dragon kept us on the defensive, almost backing us against the far wall where we started. Just as it reared its head back to deliver a killing blow to Malakar, Howard finally managed to knock the beast off balance. It fell with a thud to the ground and each of us in turn delivered one last blow before the beast stopped moving.

The crowd cheered stupidly. I put them out of my mind as I went to offer a silent tribute to the fallen dragon. Bronn joined me, I suppose being a paladin he had an inclination towards reverence. I put a hand on the dragon’s noble snout as Bronn said some kind of prayer. It was inappropriate, but I made no action to stop him.

When we returned to the hall to collect our reward, the coordinator slapped us each on the back in turn. “That was the most amazing fight this arena has ever seen!” he exalted, “No one has ever beaten the dragon before! You guys were incredible!”

We accepted our rewards, 500 platinum pieces each. I allowed myself to celebrate our survival and even our victory. The drunken noble from earlier tracked me down to shake my hand and slipped me an extra 200 gold pieces. I thanked him while imagining what he might look like as a smear of blood reflected infinitely on every surface of the mirror realm.

This inane distraction was finally over and the real work could begin. I graciously declined Malakar’s invitation to join the rest of the group for a pint and retreated to the inn to clean myself up in preparation for our meeting with Kathul. If I had my way, we would be rid of this place as soon as possible.

[Lady Moreta]

Originally Posted by mebecronck

So where is your critique on Jessica's back story?

Dr Bwaa got around to it, what's taking you so long.

You told me poking people into reading your writing is acceptable. Can't blame me for using your advice ... on you.

Yes, but phrasing things as a request, not a demand, and saying 'please' would help.

And the reason is that I haven't read it yet. A cold, coupled with a persistent headache, a couple of bad days and a general inability to get in the right frame of mind to read and review have all conspired against me. The cold is gone, the headache still appears to be lingering, the bad days - eh, we'll see, and there's not much I can do about the general inability... at least, not right now, because right now I have to return a library book and go to the supermarket.

[mebecronck]

Originally Posted by Lady Moreta

Yes, but phrasing things as a request, not a demand, and saying 'please' would help.

Sorry about that. This is something like Poe's Law here. I was not giving a demand, I was being ... well ... sarcastic wouldn't be accurate ... hmmm ...

Ever had a friend nudge you, while saying, "Come on ... come one."

Humorous and friendly was what I was aiming for, but without a smiley I couldn't properly convey it.

For example, though. I read your response, and you might have intended it as more of an "calm" "matter-of-fact" tone, but I can't help but read it as you are furious with me - "How dare that ***hole demand I read his crappy writing" - and am afraid I just lost a friend.

My bad. I wouldn't demand anyone to read anything.

[PaperMustache]

Well I'll do it! Even though I never write and have no idea what the difference is between valid criticism and being a jerk! WEEEEE I'M USEFUL!

@mebecronc

Spoiler

An attractive girl, with long blonde hair mixed with pure white streaks, large feathered wings, a lithe body, and pale blue eyes. This young girl lived a sheltered life. On a small island surrounded by monks that had long ago taken a vow of silence.

I feel like the character's physical description can be worked into the story instead of laying it out in th first line. If you wanted to start out with it right out of the gate, there isn't anything wrong with it, but when I try to write something and can't figure out where to start I usually get stuck with a description of the character instead of a good hook. You might be able to deal with this and flesh out her surroundings better if she were doing something like taking a walk and reflecting on relevant information. Have descriptions of her eyes, her hair, her wings etc as they interact with the world you've put her in.

They have but two purposes, two goals in life.

1. To protect the sacred plant, that only grows on this island, from the outside world. For it is the key ingredient for making Panacea.
2. To protect Jessica from the outside world, for reasons never fully explained to her.

This is more information that would be better shown than told. Have her interact with an overprotective monk as an obstacle or briefly describe something they won't let her do other than leave th island. Also, if the plant isn't relevent to Jessica herself, perhaps we don't need to know that it is an ingredient for panacea.

He fought his way into the Ninth Layer of Hell and slapped (with his long sword) Asmodeus right across the face, and returned to tell the tale.

I don't think slapped is a cool enough word to describe a paladin charging into hell and matching blows with freaking Asmodeus himself. Slapping isn't even something you do with a long sword. Perhaps slashing or something. This is a really cool image and it makes her dad look like a bad ass, but it needs to be at least 20% more epic.

Her father, over time, started to visit less and less, but she feels like he is always watching.

You've got a bit of a tense problem here and in other places, flip flopping where you don't need to. I think it is easy to fix, just decide whether the story is being told as it happens or looking back on it and work from there.

Cronc always has a smile on his face. A feature offset by the whole picture. He looms over everyone else around him, even with the fact that he stands hunched over. Tremendous muscles bulge from everywhere but his belly, which is girthed over from too much meat and booze. Scars cover his body.

I like Cronc

After sharing tales of adventures and fighting, he would ask, "Wat yu wunt do?" No matter what she answered, he would find some way to make it happen. Regardless of his limited skill set.

No really, I freaking love this guy.

He was blamed for the girl's death and chased out of town.

Kronk no! I demand more gut wrenching details. His futile efforts to save his drowning friend, the rage of the townspeople when they learned what happened, descriptions of him being run off. Make me cry! I demand it!

On her sixteenth birthday, when her father came to visit, she asked him a simple question. A simple question that lead to lengthy debates, arguments, and even yelling.

"Can I leave the monastery?"

...she didn't think to ask if she could leave until she was sixteen? It seems a little rushed to me and I think the story would benefit from a more detailed confrontation. If for no other reason to explain to the reader the nature of this girl's relationship with her father. They seem distant, Cronc acts like more of an affectionate father figure than the paladin. If this is the case, this is an interesting dynamic and I want to know more. If it isn't, seeing the worried father fret over his daughter going out into the world alone would also benefit the characterization.

" ... if you ever need me, for any reason, I will always be there."

Is he a god? Because if he is a totally called it. How else would she feel like he was "always with her"? I'm all kinds of on to you.

Overall thoughts:
I really like the world you've set up around this character and I think her inquisitive and nurturing personality flows logically from her up bringing. You just need to switch your tenses right way around and it's pretty darn great. I enjoyed reading it and I'm really sorry if I seem too critical or things I suggested don't make any sense.

[SleepyShadow]

Kaiju Big Battle!

Spoiler

The slithering tendrils of film lifted Mr. Long from the balcony and began to assimilate him into its form, strands of the silvery film gently wrapping themselves around his body.

"Here you all shall perish!" he laughed madly. "I offer you all as sacrifices for the glory of Yog-Sothoth!"

His words seemed to catalyze Derive into action. The swordsage leaped from the balcony, his blade erupting in flame as he fell upon the mass of film. Derive's sword cut effortlessly through the amorphous wad, and the fiery attack ignited the film. However, Mr. Long seemed unperturbed by the attack on his servant as it fully absorbed him.

The blob of film lashed out at Derive with a dozen flaming tendrils, but the nimble warrior effortlessly evaded them all. However, as the creature pulled itself fully out of the hole in the floor, the flames that engulfed it set the stage curtains and the movie screen alight.

"Nice going," Lupin grumbled loudly as he fired his pistol at the creature.

Derive shot an icy glare over his shoulder at the halfling. "How was I supposed to know film was flammable?"

Lucy remained on the balcony, peppering the film-creature with arrows as Derive and Lupin combated it from the main floor. The blob of film was slow and its attacks were easy to avoid, but the adventurers seemed unable to stop the relentless creature. The fire in the theater was growing and soon threatened to overtake the entire building.

"This isn't working," Lupin shouted, doing his best not to choke on the thick smoke. "We need a plan."

"Remind me to take Power Attack after this fight," Derive replied as he hacked off yet another thick tendril from the creature.

Lucy's arrows stuck firmly into the top of the beast, though to little effect. "Think we'll level up from this?"

Lupin nodded up at her. "Most likely, assuming we survive."

Suddenly, the creature slammed a thick mass of film into the balcony Lucy perched on, effortlessly smashing the wooden structure. Lucy shrieked in surprise as she fell, and winced as she landed on her feet.

"Are you alright?" Lupin called out to her.

Lucy nodded. "Just hurt my ankle a little."

Derive called out to his companions to get their attention. Looking where he pointed, Lupin and Lucy saw that the creature was ceasing its attacks, but its form was bulging and convulsing.

"What's it doing?" Derive asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Lupin answered with a shrug.

Lucy limped over to where her two companions stood watching the creature as it writhed and convulsed on the ground. Slowly, the convulsions subsided, and the mass of film lay still. Ignoring the hazardous flames around them, Derive cautiously approached the blob and poked it with his index finger.

Without warning, the massive ball of film violently exploded. The blast threw the adventurers back, smashing them into walls and theater chairs. A sickening groan resounded throughout the room just before the building collapsed.

Onlookers from across the street watched in horror as The Paradise Theater collapsed in on itself. Dust and smoke filled the air, and for a time all was silent.

Slowly, a tiny figure pulled itself out of the rubble. The patrons who had escaped from the theater cheered as Lupin emerged from the disastrous sight. He slowly got to his feet, his body aching. However, it only took him a moment to realize what had happened, and he frantically began to dig through the rubble in search of his friends.

"My friends are buried!" he called out to the bystanders. "Help me, please!"

The onlookers were slow to react, but one by one they began to file across the street and help the halfling dig through the rubble. Lucy was the first to be unearthed. Lupin's heart skipped a beat when her deathly still form was found, but one of the surviving theater patrons happened to be a doctor who assured the concerned halfling that she was merely unconscious.

It took several minutes of digging to uncover Derive, but he seemed to have survived the blast and subsequent collapse in much better shape than Lucy. He grinned excited at Lupin while he was being freed from the rubble.

"That was awesome!" he exclaimed.

Lupin could not help but laugh at his friend's exuberance. "You had to poke it, didn't you?"

"It wouldn't have been nearly as exciting if I hadn't," Derive replied with a wide smile.

***

"Hey," Lupin called out to his friends. "Come take a look at this."

A week had passed since the incident at the theater. Lucy had recovered quickly from her injuries, and Derive had invited both of them to stay at the small apartment he had downtown. Lupin was lounging on the sofa reading the newspaper while Lucy and Derive were in the kitchen making breakfast.

The other two adventurers joined the halfling in the living room, and Lupin tapped on the newspaper article he was reading.

"We are being lauded as heroes," Lupin said to them. "See here. 'Adventurous Detectives Save Hundreds From Theater Disaster'. We're becoming quite the local celebrities."

"Eww, I don't want to become a vegetable," Lucy whined, sticking out her tongue in disgust.

Derive smacked her on the back of the head. "He said 'celebrities', not 'celery'. Anyway, I was reading more into that book we found and I think we may need to talk to someone more knowledgeable about magic than we are."

"Why is that?" Lupin asked curiously as he folded the newspaper closed.

Derive pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and showed it to the halfling. On it was a rough sketch of a strange symbol akin to having three 'Y's arranged so that the two prongs from each 'Y' made a sort of triangle. Inside the triangle was an eye that stared straight ahead. Looking at the symbol made Lupin's head hurt.

"Ugh, put it away," the halfling grumbled.

"Feels like a migraine when you look at it, too, huh?" Derive asked as he folded it up and stuffed it in his pocket.

Lupin nodded. "Yeah. Anyway, I think I know someone who could help us with that. I'll send her a wire."

[Winds]

@Lady Moreta

Spoiler

Laziness requires I not use the quotes. Mwahahaha.

RE: Loot

Well...we don't find much money, and wouldn't have reason to take it if we did. We do find stuff, but there's no shops...anywhere. So, Kalach just happens to have some leftovers...

RE: Kol keeping the book

It gets better.

RE: Style Change

Just what I was going for. Glad it's working.

@Dr. Bwaa

Spoiler

Laziness requires I not use the quotes. Mwahahaha.

RE: Foreshadowing

Meh. That's what practice is for.

RE: Length

Yes sir!

@PaperMustache

Spoiler

While I am to lazy and busy to give in-depth commentary right now, I will say that your works are very well done.

EDIT: @SleepyShadow

You *would* turn out to be posting at the same time, eh? I've got a snippet coming, and will comment on yours when I post it.

[PaperMustache]

@Winds

Spoiler

We are not so different you and I (lack of maniacally laughing smiley face is a tragedy). I too read one of your snippets and enjoyed it. I am similarly busy and lazy but perhaps in the near future we will exchange commentary. That is if you still need it, your last snippet is a page or two back and you might be done with it.

[Winds]

@SleepyShadow

Spoiler

Originally Posted by SleepyShadow

The slithering tendrils of film lifted Mr. Long from the balcony and began to assimilate him into its form, strands of the silvery film gently wrapping themselves around his body.

Minor enough, but it seems odd for him to be assimilated, but for it also to happen gently. It doesn't seem to jive with the rest of how the thing acts.

Originally Posted by SleepyShadow

"How was I supposed to know film was flammable?"

I get the feeling he would have used fire anyway...

Originally Posted by SleepyShadow

"Remind me to take Power Attack after this fight," Derive replied as he hacked off yet another thick tendril from the creature.

Lucy's arrows stuck firmly into the top of the beast, though to little effect. "Think we'll level up from this?"

Lupin nodded up at her. "Most likely, assuming we survive."

Hahaha...same old, same old.

Originally Posted by SleepyShadow

"Eww, I don't want to become a vegetable," Lucy whined, sticking out her tongue in disgust.

Haha, nice. Does the ditzy personality quite well, I see.



It's well done, and your portrayal of their characters is amusing as always.

@PaperMoustache

Spoiler

Generally, I use it to improve the next snippet rather than worry about fixing the old ones. There is a manic smiley, though. Click more and you'll find this......among others.

Previous snippet summary:

Spoiler

Last time, the party met a healer, entered the latest tower, and fought some flying reptiles. Now they're in a castle hall with liches and what seemed to be several female nobles in stasis. Jessica 'found' some dust and prepared to use it on the nobles...

Secrets abound

Spoiler

So, Jessica poured the dust over the ladies. And...the stasis broke.

Obviously, Dust of Dispel Magic...made by a powerful caster, to break something like this.

The liches recovered quickly, and simply teleported away. The others, meanwhile...

They were a group of sorceresses. The stasis spell had interrupted both sets of casters as a last-ditch maneuver to stop the liches from casting a ritual that would turn the whole region's inhabitants into undead. So, our job...

"We will cast a ritual to banish them. You need to stop them from finishing theirs. Hurry!"

Luckily for us, the place wasn't that big, and the halls were direct. A new annoyance for my catalog, however: I am now the slowest of our group, same the paladin. And he's wearing plate mail, or he'd likely outrun me as well.

So when I got there, Jessica and Kol were there already.

"Um...What do we do?"

"Unless you're willing to hit them, keep us in fighting condition."

"Vitriol Chain."

Kol and Aileph joined in, as well. A blade into dead flesh, and an arrow flying. We, of course, were nothing more than an annoyance. No weapon in our possession was able to bypass the unnatural armor their undead nature granted, and my spells were not much more than an annoyance.

I can fling acid and frost and pure dark force. The scout's skills see enemies as pincushions in short order, and a paladin with a holy avenger is a terror to his foes. But in this case, we weren't much more than an annoyance.

I hate this bloody world. How is it we're always the weakest things in it?

Kol and I fired three shots. Aileph's blade never stopped moving...but despite not being able to hurt them significantly, we stopped the spell's progress several times. Until they cast a defensive spell that left us unable to hit them at all...

If they had started with that, they could have finished their spell. The last thing their leader said...

"Too late! We will not finish the spell...but we can kill these-"

To mundane eyes, they simply vanished. But as I draw my power from the one of the outer planes, I could feel the force that shunted them out of this plane.

That done, the castle grew hazy, and we returned to the tower's central chamber. The final door opened, and we could see the pedestal and sword...so it was time to figure out what to do with it. It didn't take long.

"So, these things can connect the material plane to divine planes?"

"Aye, lass, so we're told...Kol, what have you been doing so far?"

"Well, we've been destoying them, but..."

"I did not ask you, warlock. I'm still not sure what side you're on. Kol?"

"We've been 'claiming' them for nothing. That ends the magic, and destroys the tower. Safer than leaving it for the devils to reach."

"Then that's what we'll do."

If you knew what you chanced by that...fine. Next time, I'll make sure you listen.

So we brought down the tower. On exiting it, Yin and Yang said good bye. Yang was still petulant about losing her game. Yin, however, was sad to see yet more people fleeing the mad city. Aileph felt bad for her...so much so that he left the celestial horse with her. It meant he was less effective in combat...but he thought it worthwhile.

To each his own.

When we returned to the true world, on our side of the mirror, there was a basket. A large basket, with a colorful, round...thing hovering above it. Jessica said it was a 'hot-air balloon' that she had found.

I didn't ask.

The basket was large enough for all of us and our scant gear. The thing was propelled by wind normally. In our case, Jessica just towed the thing. She said she could handle it indefinitely. Aileph seemed nonplussed, Kol took it in stride like always, and me...Well. I had planning to do.

[SleepyShadow]

Originally Posted by Winds

It's well done, and your portrayal of their characters is amusing as always.

Thanks. I'll be ready with some comments on your work next time

[PaperMustache]

@Winds WEEEE HELPING

Spoiler

"We will cast a ritual to banish them. You need to stop them from finishing theirs. Hurry!"

"Um...What do we do?"

"Unless you're willing to hit them, keep us in fighting condition."

Maybe this is just me, but I have no clue who's talking without a little more information. I don't want you to bog yourself down in he saids and she saids, but perhaps a little of that wouldn't hurt.

We, of course, were nothing more than an annoyance. No weapon in our possession was able to bypass the unnatural armor their undead nature granted, and my spells were not much more than an annoyance.

I can fling acid and frost and pure dark force. The scout's skills see enemies as pincushions in short order, and a paladin with a holy avenger is a terror to his foes. But in this case, we weren't much more than an annoyance.

I don't think it adds anything to the story to repeat that sentiment so many times. There are other descriptions you could use to convey the fact that their attacks aren't doing much.

If they had started with that, they could have finished their spell. The last thing their leader said...

"Too late! We will not finish the spell...but we can kill these-"

Wait... they're on a time limit? This wasn't clear to me. Maybe something I missed from a previous snippet? If so ignore me.

Aileph felt bad for her...so much so that he left the celestial horse with her. It meant he was less effective in combat...but he thought it worthwhile.

To each his own.

I like the characterization here.

Overall I thought it was pretty good. Could maybe use some more fleshing out, as I was confused at what was happening with the spellcaster's ritual and who was doing what.

Edit: I also went back and gave my snippets names. I don't like the names, but at least they aren't untitled anymore. I've been working on part 3 and will probably have it up soon, probably on this post since I don't know what forum etiquette stipulates about double posts. So woo hoo.

Edit: I did it, and now this is a thing. In which the character who hasn't shut up about how evil she is actually does something kind of evil. AKA: Why my group doesn't let me talk to anyone anymore.

The Destruction of Amolarr: Part 3

Spoiler

My companions refused to clean themselves after the battle, triggering a long line of problems for me to deal with as we set out to meet with the councilman to be. They thought they would be better received if they wore some evidence of their conquests on their person. I tried to convince them that sweat, mud, and the blood of our enemies would not make for appropriate attire in the presence of a noble outside the arena, but they were beyond reason.

Of course Kathul’s house guard turned the party away at the sight of us, insisting that my companions take advantage of the public bath house down the road. I was at least allowed to wait for them inside, but the candidate would not see me alone. I stood awkwardly in the hall, watched carefully by one of the guards. The room was lavishly decorated, but not at all comfortable to spend too much time in. Maroon walls seemed to emphasize the disapproving stares of the men in a dozen paintings lining the walls. This was a family estate, meticulously decorated in tribute to the family line. I could find nothing personal to hint at the character of the man we were about to meet.

I was glad when my companions returned from the showers wet-haired and in the same dirty clothes they had been wearing before. Malakar grinned sheepishly at me, the closest thing to an apology I would get. Bronn looked even more uncomfortable than I was in the candidate’s home, and I wondered briefly why he had come at all. Once we were all gathered we were lead into the study to meet Kathul. We found him bent over his desk reading a book. He glanced up, revealing a stern face, and rose to meet us graciously.

“Ah, you must be the heroes from the arena” he droned, “I was quite impressed with your exploits.”

“You are very kind” I said quickly, before my companions could say something stupid, “we did what we had to in order to assist you in your campaign.”

“Of course, I am sorry about the cold welcome you received earlier” the man sneered, eyeing Bronn and Malakar with distain, “but the filthy half-breeds of this city’s slums will do anything to sabotage my chances.”

I am sure I would have gotten the same treatment as my dwarf and barbarian companions, had I not learned to hide the pointed ears that marked me as a half-elf behind my hair. I was quite used to such abuse, but my companions were not. They bristled defensively under Kathul’s stare. Even Howard, usually so apathetic, seemed to seethe in his neutrality.

I hated him for a different reason entirely as he waxed narcissistic about the particulars of his campaign. This man was by far the worst politician I had ever met. He talked down to his supporters and he spoke plainly of how little he cared for the lower class of this city. His entire agenda seemed to be based on condemning the barbarian tribes that served as powerful allies to the city’s defense, and slapping them with heavy regulations . He was woefully detached from the reality facing this city and its people. How a man of this ineptitude had ever managed to scrape himself into the running to become one of the most powerful leaders in the northern kingdoms was completely beyond my comprehension.

And yet he was perfect. A dumb, rich child just one step away from real power was just the push this city needed to be plunged into chaos. The man in black would be pleased. I wondered if he would allow me to remain in this city for the time it would take to watch Kathul bungle the place to ruins. Of course that was impossible. In order to keep my cover with the Brotherhood I would have to be far away when the initial stability the end of the campaigns would bring wore off.

“Now about what you adventurers can do to help” Kathul had said, jolting me from my daydreams of ruined cities, “my competitor’s spotless record is doing me no favors in this election. I’ve tried all I can think of to find some information to discredit him, to no avail. That’s where you come in”

He took an envelope off of his desk and held it out to me, “this is a letter in Soluth’s handwriting detailing his new plan to sever ties with his barbarian supporters. You will find a way to plant it in his offices and report back to me. When this is done I will call for a search of his premises and discredit his entire platform.”

I looked to my companions. The honorable lot was taking this plan as well as could be imagined. Kathul had not bothered to read any of their expressions before blurting out his scheme. He had just layed out a proposition of fraud in front of a paladin of all people! There was no way any of them were going to go along with this folly.

I snatched the letter out of his hands before he did something stupid, like hand it to Bronn. “Are you sure this is the best use of our talents?” I suggested politely, “None of us are exactly inclined towards stealth. Perhaps if you needed…”

The bastard cut me off. “I know exactly what a group of heroes for hire like you are good for” he sneered, “you have your assignment, come back to me when you have seen to it!”

Luckily for me, his guards entered the room and escorted us out before we could object. My companions were grumbling amongst themselves, shooting accusatory glances at me intermittently. They were doubting me again, making sure to leave me out of their decision making process this time. A wise choice, for what it was worth. I found myself following them back to the tavern.

I sat quietly and listened to my friends as they argued over a pint. Bronn was adamant that we make no action to assist Kathul, and this time Malakar sided with him. I lost the fighter shortly thereafter. Malakar was raging on about how he would like to burn this city to the ground. I found the notion oddly comforting, I had the barbarian more on my side than he knew. I hoped his tribesmen would feel the same when the time came. I still had to deal with the problem at hand, however: how to plant this letter in the enemy candidate’s office without the aid of my companions. I excused myself quietly and went up to my room to think.

I layed in my bed in the dark for a few minutes, mulling over my limited options. I might be able to charm my way in through wit or magic, but thanks to the arena disaster I had become a well-known supporter of Kathul. There was no way Soluth would be stupid enough to let me rifle through his things. I played with the idea of sending a courier with the letter and hoping it got lost in the shuffle of paperwork, but of course that was just desperate. I imagined myself climbing through a window in the dead of night, making a spectacle of myself for all the sleeping world to see.

No no no. This simply was not my area of expertise. If I were a more accomplished sorcerer I could simply teleport myself in, plant the evidence, and teleport out. I kicked myself for my lack of dedication to my studies and rolled over onto my side in frustration. It was then that a familiar glint caught my eye.

The mirror that I used to contact the man in black had fallen out of my bag partially when I had set the thing down on the floor. It was reflecting the light of the moon outside of my window and it struck me with a hilariously simple solution. My employer had always been patient with me. He was a spellcaster of immense power, I assumed a wizard although I never had found out for sure. What’s more, he had the ability to travel through mirrors, of which there were sure to be many in the candidate’s office. Surely he would indulge me in completing such a simple task. I decided to take my chances in abusing my master’s good will.

I scooped up the mirror and sat up in my bed. I put my hand on the mirror’s surface and focused on reaching out to the man in black through our blood bond. Someday I would be able to do this instantly without a mirror as he did, but for now I would just have to hope he would notice my alert and come to me.

Within a few seconds the man in black appeared in the mirror where my own reflection had been. I recognized his face this time, he had not bothered to hide it from me. I hoped this was a sign of trust and not expendability.

“Agent Kepesk” he stated firmly, “I had not expected to hear from you for some time. Has something gone wrong?”

“No sir” I started with the positive, “in fact, much has already gone according to plan. Kathul is the perfect candidate for our purposes, a complete incompetent. With him in power the city will be in chaos sooner than I had hoped.” I waited for his approval before getting to the bad news.

“I am pleased to hear this” the man in black said patiently, though I could see exhaustion in his eyes.

“However, he may be too perfect” I explained, “honestly he’s the worst politician I have ever met. I would have already had my work cut out for me just getting him elected, but he has managed to personally offend each and every one of my companions. They won’t support him anymore.”

“I see, go on” the man in black said thoughtfully. He seemed to be more interested in helping then I had dared to hope.

“So he wants us to plant this letter in his opponent’s office” I said, producing the paper, “except I can’t think of a way to do it while my companions oppose me. If you could use your power over the mirror realm to take care of it, I could appease my companions and get on with my mission.”

“I can do this easily” he agreed, I slipped the letter through the mirror and it appeared in his hand, “I will return when it is finished.” He returned seconds later.

“It is finished” he told me, “but this news of your companions troubles me. How many oppose you?”

“The paladin opposes me in all things” I reported faithfully, suppressing a twinge of concern for my friends, “the barbarian is weak for his tribe, he opposes me only when he believes them to be in danger, and the fighter usually sides with him.”

“I see” the man in black answered, “I can do nothing for the barbarian tribes at this time, but I can help you deal with these companions of yours.”

Before I could ask what he meant I felt the mark on my collar bone spark to life with scorching heat as intense as it had been when it was fresh. Arcane magic more powerful than I normally experienced invaded my mind painfully and it took all of my self-control to stop myself from crying out in pain. When the torture receded I could feel a new presence in my mind. Something powerful and dangerous. I realized after a moment that the man in black was waiting patiently for me to adjust.

“A gift” he smiled, “I have given you a portion of my casting ability. For the next 24 hours you will be able to draw from my power to cast a powerful dominating spell three times. It should be more than enough to secure the cooperation of your companions.”

“Thank you, sir” I managed, still reeling from the force of the magic. I knew that I probably couldn’t survive such a transfer regularly.

“I am well aware of your limits” the man answered, reading my mind, “I would say though that you could probably survive the process four or five times before the power began to boil your blood in your veins and leave you a mess on the floor.” His eyes were all amusement, but I could tell he was being truthful.

“I will not waste this opportunity, master” I made myself say.

“See that you don’t” he replied, “I will be watching.”

With that he was gone and I was sitting in bed holding a normal mirror once again. After the shock wore off I allowed myself to chuckle. The man in black truly had a wizard’s intellect. So much power, such mastery of the arcane arts, and no idea what to do with it. Only sorcerer such as myself, with magic flowing through my veins, to whom the arcane secrets were given freely, could grasp the enormity of the power he had gifted me with.

I would not waste this gift on my companions. In the morning I called them into my room and ripped up a piece of paper made to look like Kathul’s letter in front of them. I told them that there was no way we should have to put up with this man’s arrogance and that we should just go back to him claiming to have completed the deed. Who would know any different? They liked this idea, but when I mentioned that I would do it myself they insisted on accompanying me, ever the suspicious bunch. No matter, I could save Kathul for later. I left the business of lieing to the politician to them and struck out on my own.

I made my way straight to the office of Soluth, the other candidate. I knew the guards would not let a known supporter of Kathul in, so I worked my own charm on them. When I approached the front gate they both regarded me as a good friend and escorted me inside immediately to meet with the candidate.

He was a much older man with a kind face. He looked up at me from a desk crowded with files and papers. He squinted his eyes in confusion as I strode into his office, unannounced and flanked by two of his own guards.

“You…” he started, his voice was horse from old age, “what are you doing here?” I wasted no time bending the man’s will to my own.

“You are not qualified for this council position” I commanded, drawing on my master’s power, “you should withdraw from the race immediately and put all of your efforts behind Kathul’s campaign.”

“Y-yes” the man blinked in confusion, “yes you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. I will start to put my affairs in order and withdraw at once.”

“Excellent” I said, turning to leave. As I walked out one of the guards fell into step with me.

“Kepesk… I’m confused. Why did Soluth change his mind so quickly?” the guard asked innocently.

“Well, I guess my logic just got through to him” I shrugged.

“I guess so…” the guard muttered to himself. That gave me an idea, I backtracked into the office where Soluth was packing up all of his papers.

“Oh, and I don’t think you trust the dwarves and the barbarians anymore” I smiled from the door way, “you know how savage they can be.”

I left the ex-candidate’s office in a fine mood. The man in black’s magic was much stronger than my own and I felt giddy with power. I began to whistle a little tune as I walked to Kathul’s office. On the way I happened to pass a group of nobles who were chattering about the leader of the mercantilist’s guild. He had just come into town and was currently in the guild hall preparing to unveil some new trade policy. I thought I might like to help with that, so I took a detour.

I picked out the man in question, a balding human fielding questions from a quickly growing mass of people. I got close enough to use the spell and whispered a telepathic message.

“You work for me now.”

I saw the man stop in the middle of a sentence a blink back his confusion.

“Carry on” I commanded, “but I have a new policy for you. The barbarian tribes are now your priority where trade is concerned. You will not associate with any group that opposes them.” When the man resumed talking to the crowd I left the guild hall. I had one more target to bend to my master’s ends.

Kathul’s guards let me in without question. Apparently my companions had been able to convince him that they had done what he asked without my help. I felt a surge of pride as I imagined Malakar or Bronn breaking with their oh-so-lofty senses of justice and coming down to my level to deceive this horrible little man. Perhaps when the man in black succeeded in joining the mirror realm with this world, they wouldn’t end up slaughtered quite as brutally as the rest. Perhaps by that time they might even be worthy of the renewed world.

Kathul was in his office pretending to read the same damn book as he had been the day before. We were alone, so I spoke plainly.

“You are the worst politician I have ever met” I announced to his surprise, “but I have use for you. A glorious purpose.” He opened his mouth to say something stupid.

“You work for me now” I said, using the last of the power the man in black had given me to shut him up, “and you are going to start acting like a real councilman, and then you are going to win and together we will run this city so far into the ground that even the dwarves won’t have use for it.”

[Lady Moreta]

Okay, so I've established I can only read and review about two or three snippets at a time before my brain shuts down... So, rather than make people wait ages until I've done everyone's, I'm just going to post what I've already got done

Mabs

Spoiler

First impression – that’s gross… but kinda funny - you made me laugh at least.

Dalu form – not quite their strongest form, but certainly not fully human – that much was clear as day. As one the pair moved to shield Rachel, who did not budge from her Hishu form. Emile snarled louder as he moved with them, standing just in front of them, head low and drool dripping from between his teeth.

This is good, very good. You’re giving us that little extra bit of info we need about the various forms and what they are without breaking the flow of the story or going all Mr. Exposition on us.

“You brought Silver to a diplomatic meeting.”

Stop capitalising ‘silver’! It’s not a personal name so it doesn’t need a capital.

I actually have a D&D character whose name is Silver so every time I read it, I keep thinking they’ve got my bard with them and I go

Ross snarled, fingers curling into fight fists, his muscles bulging as he stared down at the man like he was an ant. “No, I’ll tell you how this is going to go, you fairy ****er.” He snarled, his voice coming out as a growl due to his Dalu vocal chords. Rex didn’t even try to stop him. “We’re going to rip you all a new ****ing ******* for what you did, and you’re going to bend over and damn well take it. You can try and stop us, use all the ****ing silver in the ****ing world and it will not do you jack-****ing-**** you undead **** sucking bitches.”

I kind of want to read this without all the censoring… I personally don’t swear (and I don’t much like the practice at all), but there are certain characters for whom swearing is almost part of their personality and it just doesn’t seem right when they’re not.

Jane was staring down a snarling Emile, a savage joyful grin on her lips as she drew her small knife, spinning it in her fingers. “Come here, puppy. You’ve been a bad dog.”

I love the puppy-dog comment - but you’ve got a consistency error here… everyone else you refer to by their first name, but you’ve already mentioned that this girl’s name is Amanda and her surname is Jane. Just something to be careful with, it’s the reason I avoid giving characters a surname that can also be a first name. Also… you say she has a Russian accent, but her name isn’t even remotely Russian. Now I’m aware that there could be any number of reasons for that, but it’s something to be aware of – it pays to keep things like accents/where someone is from in mind when picking names, it helps with believability if the Russian-sounding vampire has a Russian name.

Jane’s eyes widened as she backed away, her fingers closing tight around the knife. No more fancy tricks; she certainly hadn’t been expecting that. She gave her companion’s once last glance before she turned and ran towards the limo.

I find this very amusing. I don’t know why… you draw a very good mental picture here and I can just see the panic and the turn-and-run. It amuses me.

“**** that whore up, Emile!” Ross called to his pack mate, roaring with laughter as his mammoth fists pummelled Alistair’s face into pulp. The fairy had got in a few good blows, but his enhanced healing had taken care of that in seconds. Ross almost felt cheated as he lifted up the crippled vampire with almost no effort and slammed him across his knee, shattering his spine and tossing him to the side; pausing a moment to lift his heavy working boot and stamp the bloodsuckers skull until it burst like a watermelon. The Uratha grinned at his work and turned to assist Rex and Rachel with Alexander.

I don’t really approve of violence as a solution, but I can’t help but like Ross. He’s just so – happy in his work. And I love the running ‘fairy’ motif you’ve got going here.

“**** this.” Ross grunted and closed his eyes; letting all of the anger he felt wash over him.

Again.. I love Ross. This whole paragraph is very good, you describe the transformation very well and include the info we need to understand exactly what this form is and what it’s for, without disrupting the narrative flow. Very well done.

On the whole, you write fight scenes very well. It helps in this case that the vampires were obviously on the back foot the entire fight and you guys basically wiped the floor with them, but everything flows exceptionally well, and you give us the little bits of info we need to make sense of the werewolves and their forms without disrupting the narrative.

“You should consider taking up something else other than diplomacy, Rachel.” Ross grinned at her as Emile shifted back to Hishu himself, grinning wide from ear to ear despite being covered in blood. Rachel gave a soft laugh.

“I’ll consider it.” She replied with a smirk.

I don’t know why, but after all the excitement, the ending feels like a bit of a letdown. I think it’s that it’s not entirely clear what Ross is referring to here. I assume it’s that Rachel’s diplomacy utterly failed and that she herself didn’t do all that much in the fight itself. I’d also suggest changing her line to “I’ll think about it” rather than what you’ve got… the repetition of ‘consider’ somehow lessens the impact of the snark. And I do like the comparison of sulky, snarling Emile in the first snippet to the happy little puppy he is now

mebecronck

Spoiler

First impression – you’ve got a real problem with tenses in this and it kinda ruins the story. It’s quite hard to keep following when you switch tense at least twice in almost every paragraph… the narrative isn’t that hard to follow, and it’s a nice little bit of backstory, but the tense problem means that I keep getting jarred out of the story every time I hit one… and since they come so frequently, I found it hard to stay focused.

An attractive girl, with long blonde hair mixed with pure white streaks, large feathered wings, a lithe body, and pale blue eyes. This young girl lived a sheltered life. On a small island surrounded by monks that had long ago taken a vow of silence.

Interesting description… though I admit I’m finding it hard to how white streaks would be differentiated from blonde hair in general. I’d suggest specifying what shade of blonde the rest of her hair was. I used to have very pale blonde hair where white streaks would have been nigh invisible. It gradually turned to a darker blonde where white streaks would have been noticeable.

Also, take your last two sentences and make them one sentence.

It took quite a bit of convincing just to let her have any privacy at all.

I like this… gives us a lot of information about the type of father he was all in one sentence.

Her father was a paladin of great status, a true warrior and hero. He fought his way into the Ninth Layer of Hell and slapped (with his long sword) Asmodeus right across the face, and returned to tell the tale.

This is quite the feat (if it’s true, you seem to suggest it might not be) but you kind of spoil the impact with the parentheses. I’m not 100% sure how I’d rephrase it, but I want the impact to really be an impact.

Upon reaching her teens, she was left to the care of the Monastery. Her father, over time, started to visit less and less, but she feels like he is always watching. Upon these visits, he will occasionally bring an old traveling buddy. An old man with a fondness for tattoos and red robes. A quiet girl with blue skin and hair. Her favorite of them all, however, was the mountain of muscle called Cronc.

Too many ‘upons’ I like the introduction/list of the travelling buddies though.

When he visits it always starts the same way. He slams his axe head first into the ground and shouts, "JESS!" at the top of his lungs. He is loud enough to be heard from anywhere on the island. She would come running and launch herself into his arms, and he would give her a big hug.

Awwwww

Sharing stories was not what Cronc liked the most. After sharing tales of adventures and fighting, he would ask, "Wat yu wunt do?" No matter what she answered, he would find some way to make it happen. Regardless of his limited skill set.

Awwwwww!

On one trip out into the woods, she suggested taking a dip in a small pound. However, Cronc never learned how to swim. She insisted she could teach him and dived right in. She hit hard in the shallow water and laid motionless, face-down on the surface. Cronc tried to save her, but it was too late.

I want more detail in here about what happened. I know that it is very dangerous to dive into shallow water because of the danger of hitting the bottom and breaking your neck or other bones – which I assume is what happened here. But it’s not made clear exactly what happened.

Jessica reminds him a lot of his old friend. She called him, "Uncle Cronc", which, after learning what "Uncle" means, made him felt a level acceptance and, for that matter, family that he hasn't felt in a long time.

Awwwww (again)

Henry is the other monk who foregone the vow of silence.

‘Foregone’ is the wrong word here… it’s the wrong tense… I believe what you want is ‘forewent’.

A large man with an equally large curiosity about the outside world. He trades in whatever he can to learn more about it.

Make these two one sentence. Technically, the first isn’t a complete sentence in itself anyway.

The island, being impossible to self sustain, needs trade with the mainland to the east for resources otherwise inaccessible. Each time they visited Henry would go to trade with whatever he can for information about the outside world.

I’m afraid that neither of these sentences make sense… that is, I understand what you’re saying, but grammatically, they don’t make sense. Something like ’The island didn’t possess the resources to sustain itself, and traded with the mainland to the east for resources otherwise inaccessible’. Even with your own sentence, you’ve been mostly writing in the past tense, so ‘needs’ should be ‘needed’

This attitude is frowned upon by the other monks, which would prefer that he stayed focus on his duties. His "mania" would reach its peak when he somehow managed to obtain and restore a small boat. However, even he admits that he does not have the courage to take it out.

Who would prefer that he stay focused – this is a good example of the tense problem you’ve got. You’re talking about how his attitude is frowned upon, which is roughly speaking, present tense (I am not Dr Bwaa, I don’t have his insane grammar skills, but I can tell when something is wrong), but then you’re saying ‘stayed’ which is past tense. It doesn’t make sense. Also, ‘mania’ doesn’t need the speech marks, it’s a mania, plain and simple, don’t qualify it.

Before she left, Henry offered her two things. His restored boat, and his pristine copy of "Around the World in Eighty Days" by Jules Verne. She thanked him, taking the book, but refusing the boat.

"I'm out to see the world ... and to finally stretch out my wings."

She’d never used her wings before? The way you’ve phrased this, with her refusing the boat and saying she’s finally going to stretch her wings suggests that she’s never flown or used them before… which I admit, I find hard to believe. Even if she’d not left the island before, I find it hard to believe that she’d never at least tried to fly before. There doesn’t appear to be any reason why she couldn’t have, as long as she stayed on the island. If it truly is that she’d never used them before, then I want some mention of that earlier in the snippet, it strikes me as a fairly important point! If she had used them before, then I think a slight re-write is needed to make that clearer.

SleepyShadow

Spoiler

There’s something about this snippet that’s bugging me, but I’m not 100% sure what it is… apart from the fact that you’re using the American spelling of ‘theatre’ and it’s bugging me, but that’s neither here, nor there. I think my problem is that this is potentially a very shocking scene – sure they already knew Long was up to more than he was admitting, but surely they weren’t expecting him to turn up with Sara? (I know I wasn’t.) And I’m assuming him murdering her wasn’t expected! And while your players were clearly genre savvy enough to realise something was going to happen (and I love Derive’s fed up ‘tentacles’ at the end), there is still the fact that what happened is still shocking (metagaming from your players aside – and there doesn’t seem to be a huge amount of that in this one anyway). The entire snippet has a very casual, unconcerned, almost lackadaisical effect that’s totally at odds with the content… and I suspect it wasn’t intentional on your part. There is the potential for some good drama here, I want to see you do more with it.

It was opening night at the Paradise. Despite their investigation, the three adventurers had been unable to find reason to stop Sara from putting on the show on-schedule. Despite her reassurances, Lupin and Derive 'knew' that something terrible was going to happen.

I’ll freely admit, this is a bit of a pet peeve with me, but I hate the use of inverted commas… here, all you’re trying to do is emphasise that they knew something was going to happen, all you need here are italics or bold (I’d use italics, but that’s personal preference). Inverted commas are, to me at least, meant to show sarcasm or irony, neither of which you’re really portraying here.

"No time to fret over her now," Lupin reminded himself as he watched the line of patrons from the darkness of the alley across the street. "Like Uncle Jan always said, 'when you aren't sure what you're looking for, look for everything.' Hmm ..."

Lupin furrowed his brow and a frown crept upon his face. "Then again, he was usually passed in the corner from his turnip wine."

I like this… I love the words of wisdom from Uncle Jan, and the way Lupin gradually realises that they’re not really that helpful after all!

Suddenly, a hand gripped him by the shoulder. Screaming like an eight year old girl, he scrambled away from his supposed attacker and bolted out of the alley. He tripped on the curb and fell into the street, turning around with his gun pointed at the alley.

Something about the specifics of him screaming like an eight year old girl bugs me. I think it’s too specific for the image to work. The whole ‘scream like a girl’ thing is very much a generality – the idea that when startled, someone will give vent to a high-pitched scream, much like a small/young girl would do, that’s the cliché here. Telling us that it’s actually like an eight year old girl gives us too many specifics and ruins the impact of the cliché.

Also, at this point, Lupin doesn’t know his attacker is ‘supposed’ or not. As far as he’s concerned, he’s being attacked. I’d remove ‘supposed’ from the sentence. I assume you put it there to give the reader the hint that it’s actually Lucy, but trust me, the clever reader will get that without you making it obvious.

Finally… he fell into the street, which to me at least, implies he fell over… in which case he wouldn’t be turning around to face the alley, he’d be rolling over, or scrambling to his feet and then turning around. It occurs to me as I type this that yes, he could stumble and trip and ‘fall’ into the street without actually falling over, but if that’s what you meant, then I think you need to make it clearer that he fell into the street, but managed to catch himself before he fell over. Perhaps change it to read that he stumbled into the street, but caught himself before he fell.

"Whatcha doing?" Lucy asked curiously as she exited the darkness of the alley.

To emphasise – if you change the above paragraph to remove the comment about a supposed attacker, then the tension is heightened, give Lupin a bit more of a sense of panic and then the reveal that it’s just Lucy will be that much more impactful. (Impactful? That ain’t a word… though the spellchecker isn’t complaining at me, and that worries me… either way, you know what I mean.)

"Chasing hobos," Lucy answered with an innocent smile.

I love that you don’t actually show us Lucy chasing hobos, it leaves it open to all sorts of interpretation and leaves one with the question of exactly what Lucy was doing. Was she actually chasing people, or was she just away with the fairies again?

Lucy's smile slowly morphed into concerned curiosity as she looked beyond Lupin at something across the street. Turning to follow her gaze, the halfling felt an icy chill run up his spine as he saw Jonathan Long entering the theater, his arm wrapped tightly around Sara's waist.

"Trouble," Lupin said bluntly.

I believe the good Doctor said something about this needing more info to let us know that Lupin is referring to Long as being trouble. I respectfully disagree. I found it perfectly obvious that he was referring to Long, and that Long would indeed be trouble. If anything, I want you to emphasise the point more. It strikes me that this would cause a certain degree of tension… I would be inclined to add something to describe that… Lupin is being blunt, which starts to suggest tension, but I want it to be more explicit than that.

A cheer rose up from the theater patrons as the film began. Lupin glanced intermittently at Sara and Jonathan, and every time it seemed as if Mr. Long had pressed himself more firmly against her as he whispered into her ear.

This is good, we’re left wondering exactly what Long is whispering into Sara’s ear. I’d like to know something of her reaction to it though… does she seem okay with it, does she seem uncomfortable? And why have you suddenly started referring to him as ‘Mr Long’? you were just calling him ‘Long’ before and that’s perfectly acceptable. It’s not like you’re actually talking to the guy.

Suddenly the movie stuttered and stopped, the projector making a horrendous metallic squalling sound. Someone from the crowd called out "Focus!" in a friendly tone.

I don’t understand… why is someone calling out ‘focus’? is the implication that the movie has gone out of focus (a perfectly reasonable assumption)? Is our mystery person telling the operators to focus and get the projector working again? And why are they being friendly? the bloody movie just stopped running, I don’t imagine anyone would be friendly right now!

Standing upon his seat to get a better view, Lupin watched in horror as the image of the dozen men in blank masks came into view on the screen. The theater grew very quite as a palpable feeling of malevolence began to wash over the room.

Lupin stood on his seat, not ‘upon’… and likewise ‘quiet’, not ‘quite’.

This is another one of those scenes where you have real potential that you aren’t taking advantage of. I want to know why Lupin is horrified at this image. The projector just broke sure, and we know Long is up to no good, but those haven’t been linked to this moment… and for all we (the reader) knows, the men in blank masks are part of the movie… so I why is Lupin so freaked out by it? I want to know what’s going on inside his head. I’m also not sure ‘palpable’ is the right word to use here… it means something that is readily or plainly perceived, or felt… so having a palpable feeling is a redundancy… a feeling of malevolence (or anything else for that matter) is going to be palpable by definition, you don’t need to specify that. I assume you wanted to give the impression that the malevolence is changing the atmosphere, making it tense, like it’s a thick feeling? Perhaps describe it further, tell us that it’s a gradual change starting from the front as people notice the feeling (since I get the impression it’s probably emanating from the creepy men in blank masks) and then it filters back. Tell us that the atmosphere becomes tense, thick with malevolence, that kind of thing.

The silence was shattered by a scream as Long pushed Sara over the balcony railing. She plummeted to the wooden floor, landing on her head with a sickening crack. Screams and the hackneyed cries of "Dear Gods!" rang throughout the room.

Hackneyed cries? Bit callous, don’t you think? A poor girl just got murdered! If this was directly coming from the perspective of one of your characters, who could possibly have seen enough in their life to reasonably consider ‘dear gods’ a hackneyed cry in this situation, then it would be justifiable. .. but you’re not really speaking as any of your characters right now, so it completely breaks the tension (and leaves the reader with the unfortunate sense that the writer doesn’t really care that someone just died).

Suddenly, the image on the screen went black as the floor to the theater collapsed, causing another chorus of screams to reverberate across the room. Rising up from the darkness of the hole, terrified patrons gripped in its slime-coated tendrils, was a massive amorphous ball of black and silver film. It lashed out with its limbs, snatching up fleeing patrons and devouring them.

"Tentacles," Derive grumbled. "Figures."

I love the idea of a tentacle blob made of movie film, it’s a wonderful mental image, quite creepy in fact – amorphous is an excellent word to use here. I do, however, wonder how on earth it’s slimy… is it simply because it’s been buried underground? Is it something to do with its composition? Because I find it hard to imagine that a giant ball of film would be slimy. I do love Derive’s reaction though

I think your problem with this one is that you’ve got an awful lot of wasted creepy potential here. I think the reason is that you tend to waver on who’s perspective you’re writing from. When you’re writing character speech or action, you tend to write from their perspective and we get insight into the situation through their thoughts and feelings about the situation. But as soon as you start describing more neutral things, things that the characters are simply observing, but not directly taking part in, you switch to a completely different, third-person narration that screws up the tension. I think you need to pick a character and stick with them for the entire snippet – what are they thinking and feeling? What are they seeing? How do they react when Sara gets done in? When Lupin is horrified, I want to know why he’s feeling that way, get me more into the heads of your characters (perhaps not Lucy though, she’s a little scary). Likewise, you subtitled this a ‘cat girl’s worst nightmare’ but there’s very little mention of Lucy and no mention of what part exactly is a cat girl’s worst nightmare.

I’m sorry if I seem harsh, I really think this has the potential to be great, I love this kind of thriller/horror type of story… but you need to work on the tension. Give us more of a description of what’s happening and what the people are thinking and feeling. Lupin got horrified? Okay, I want to see what that looks like on him. Does he gasp? Does he get physically tense? Does he chew on his lip? Start swearing? It’s those little details that make a story like this believable. I want to believe in the tension and the horror, but if the characters aren’t feeling it, then the reader won’t either.

[SleepyShadow]

Thanks for the critique, Moreta. I agree with you, there is quite a bit of lost potential creepiness in that snippet. While there are certainly changes in wording that I could do to help things a bit, I feel that the majority of the impact of tense scenes like this is lost because of the protagonists of the story: the players.

My players are fine at role-playing emotions that come naturally to them: excitement, anger, annoyance, etc., but when it is an emotion that their characters would experience but they as players are detached from (fright, for example), it's much harder for them. When I describe a horror scene, I get reactions such as "eww, sick", "we dead yet?", or "that's freakin' freaky, man!". Usually accompanied with laughter or movie references.

I work with what I'm given, and I try to embellish on events as little as possible.

[Lady Moreta]

Originally Posted by SleepyShadow

I work with what I'm given, and I try to embellish on events as little as possible.

I suppose the difference is that I have no problem embellishing on events to fit the story my group has the same problem as yours, some emotions are much easier to portray than others, and sometimes it's hard to accurately describe what happens when most of it involves dice rolling of some kind. I know what the characters are meant to be like, and so I try to portray them accurately, as characters, not as players pretending to be their characters. So I have no trouble making something up if it fits the character and what's going on in session.

Not that there's anything wrong with your method, the breaking of the fourth wall is well worth it... I guess I just prefer my way (obviously, or I wouldn't be writing that way!)

[Lord_Gareth]

Moreta, can I get you to PM me a link to your last snippet so I can actually give it a review? Life's been hectic lately, but you deserve at least that courtesy from me. I did promise >.>

[Lady Moreta]

PM sent

Thanks, I appreciate it.

[PaperMustache]

@Sleepyshadow ALL THE HELPING!

Spoiler

The swordsage leaped from the balcony, his blade erupting in flame as he fell upon the mass of film

I just thought that sounded really cool. I usually think combat scenes are boring, but you do a really good job of making the scene come alive with this kind of imagery.

"This isn't working," Lupin shouted, doing his best not to choke on the thick smoke. "We need a plan."

"Remind me to take Power Attack after this fight," Derive replied as he hacked off yet another thick tendril from the creature.

Lucy's arrows stuck firmly into the top of the beast, though to little effect. "Think we'll level up from this?"

Lupin nodded up at her. "Most likely, assuming we survive."

Oh dear, they've burned down the fourth wall.

Suddenly, the creature slammed a thick mass of film into the balcony Lucy perched on, effortlessly smashing the wooden structure. Lucy shrieked in surprise as she fell, and winced as she landed on her feet.

"Lucy perched on" seems a little bit awkwardly worded. Couldn't say why. Same with the last sentence, it seems like there could be more tension with her falling. As is it seems like she's barely in danger before she lands on her feet. Maybe breaking it up into seperate sentences would help?

Ignoring the hazardous flames around them, Derive cautiously approached the blob and poked it with his index finger.

Adventurers: not known for their longevity. Wonder why?


Overall I really liked this snippet. Don't know why it took me so long to sit down and read it. I like how the party seems to actually care about each other and I'm interested in going back and reading your other snippets to see more of their team dynamic.

Perhaps someone might maybe if they have time critique mine? Maybe? Yes? Please? I'm so alone.

[Winds]

@PaperMustache RE: Secrets

Spoiler

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

Maybe this is just me, but I have no clue who's talking without a little more information. I don't want you to bog yourself down in he saids and she saids, but perhaps a little of that wouldn't hurt.

Exactly what I'm trying to avoid...an doing so far too well, I guess. I'm trying to maintain their voices well enough to be obvious, but more concrete statements will be better.

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

I don't think it adds anything to the story to repeat that sentiment so many times. There are other descriptions you could use to convey the fact that their attacks aren't doing much.

Noted and agreed.

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

Wait... they're on a time limit? This wasn't clear to me. Maybe something I missed from a previous snippet? If so ignore me.

Before the sorceresses' banishment spell kicked in. There wasn't any indication they knew that was happening until that moment in-game, either...

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

I like the characterization here.

Always good to hear.

RE: The Destruction of Amolarr: Part 3

Spoiler

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

My companions refused to clean themselves after the battle, triggering a long line of problems for me to deal with as we set out to meet with the councilman to be. They thought they would be better received if they wore some evidence of their conquests on their person. I tried to convince them that sweat, mud, and the blood of our enemies would not make for appropriate attire in the presence of a noble outside the arena, but they were beyond reason.

From the barbarian, this makes sense...but a paladin really ought to have known better.

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

Of course Kathul’s house guard turned the party away at the sight of us, insisting that my companions take advantage of the public bath house down the road. I was at least allowed to wait for them inside, but the candidate would not see me alone. I stood awkwardly in the hall, watched carefully by one of the guards. The room was lavishly decorated, but not at all comfortable to spend too much time in. Maroon walls seemed to emphasize the disapproving stares of the men in a dozen paintings lining the walls. This was a family estate, meticulously decorated in tribute to the family line. I could find nothing personal to hint at the character of the man we were about to meet.

You do an excellent job of portraying her manipulative mindset with things like this.

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

“You are very kind” I said quickly, before my companions could say something stupid, “we did what we had to in order to assist you in your campaign.”

Heh heh heh heh. Nice.

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

“Of course, I am sorry about the cold welcome you received earlier” the man sneered, eyeing Bronn and Malakar with distain, “but the filthy half-breeds of this city’s slums will do anything to sabotage my chances.”

Insult the adventurers. To their faces. After they showed up at your door covered in blood. Yeesh.

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

This man was by far the worst politician I had ever met. He talked down to his supporters and he spoke plainly of how little he cared for the lower class of this city. His entire agenda seemed to be based on condemning the barbarian tribes that served as powerful allies to the city’s defense, and slapping them with heavy regulations . He was woefully detached from the reality facing this city and its people. How a man of this ineptitude had ever managed to scrape himself into the running to become one of the most powerful leaders in the northern kingdoms was completely beyond my comprehension.

YEESH. To the last statement, though...I'm gonna go with 'lots of behind-the-scenes help'.

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

He took an envelope off of his desk and held it out to me, “this is a letter in Soluth’s handwriting detailing his new plan to sever ties with his barbarian supporters. You will find a way to plant it in his offices and report back to me. When this is done I will call for a search of his premises and discredit his entire platform.”

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESH

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

The bastard cut me off. “I know exactly what a group of heroes for hire like you are good for” he sneered, “you have your assignment, come back to me when you have seen to it!”

Yup. Definitely had help.

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

No no no. This simply was not my area of expertise. If I were a more accomplished sorcerer I could simply teleport myself in, plant the evidence, and teleport out. I kicked myself for my lack of dedication to my studies and rolled over onto my side in frustration. It was then that a familiar glint caught my eye.

Sorcerors. Awesome. Then they run out of options among their spells known. Still love 'em, though.

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

The mirror that I used to contact the man in black had fallen out of my bag partially when I had set the thing down on the floor.

Seems like it should be harder to reach...meh, whatever.

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

I decided to take my chances in abusing my master’s good will.

Hoo boy.

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

I scooped up the mirror and sat up in my bed. I put my hand on the mirror’s surface and focused on reaching out to the man in black through our blood bond. Someday I would be able to do this instantly without a mirror as he did, but for now I would just have to hope he would notice my alert and come to me.

An interesting skill. Homebrew?

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

"I can do this easily” he agreed, I slipped the letter through the mirror and it appeared in his hand, “I will return when it is finished.” He returned seconds later.

WOW. That's quite an ability.

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

“A gift” he smiled, “I have given you a portion of my casting ability. For the next 24 hours you will be able to draw from my power to cast a powerful dominating spell three times. It should be more than enough to secure the cooperation of your companions.”

Powerful, smart, and versatile. What fun!

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

The man in black truly had a wizard’s intellect. So much power, such mastery of the arcane arts, and no idea what to do with it. Only sorcerer such as myself, with magic flowing through my veins, to whom the arcane secrets were given freely, could grasp the enormity of the power he had gifted me with.

I like this. Go team Sorcerer.

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

“You work for me now” I said, using the last of the power the man in black had given me to shut him up, “and you are going to start acting like a real councilman, and then you are going to win and together we will run this city so far into the ground that even the dwarves won’t have use for it.”

Impressive use of that power. Much more effective the the MIB was expecting...I wonder if he'll consider that a good thing?

Coming soon:
An inconvenient repetition

[PaperMustache]

RE:Winds

Spoiler

From the barbarian, this makes sense...but a paladin really ought to have known better.

I am pretty sure the Barbar has more charisma than that paladin. It's a weird group.

You do an excellent job of portraying her manipulative mindset with things like this.

:3 thanks!

Sorcerors. Awesome. Then they run out of options among their spells known. Still love 'em, though.

I just do it for the charisma...

An interesting skill. Homebrew?

I think it's just a re-flavoring of Telepathic Bond with permanency and restrictions on my end so that I didn't start cheating off of the high-level wizard npc. But the MIB has a bunch of cool plot powers involving mirrors, so I don't know how much is homebrew.

WOW. That's quite an ability.

Dude controls mirrors. That's almost definitely not a real spell. It's some kind of spell-like ability that comes from being influenced by the mirror realm which is homebrew. I really want the DM of the campaign to start writing snippets for this NPC. From what he's told me of his back story it would be really cool.

[MasonDon]

Originally Posted by PaperMustache

This is a snippet from the middle of a campaign I am in now where my character is a double agent for the BBEG. I wrote out the whole campaign actually but this is the only part I really liked.

The Destruction of Amolarr: Part 1

Spoiler

At last we have left the barbarian tribes and their wastes and made our way to the city of Amolarr. The cold in this region seems to chill the hearts of those who make their lives here, which makes it difficult for outsiders to establish relations with them. Even I found it challenging to convince the guard to open the city gates to us. In the end, however, the name of the southern dragons strikes fear into even the most obstinate hearts and we were allowed passage.

A cursory appraisal of the city’s interior was enough to lay bare the nature of its inhabitants. This was a city built on the backs of the impoverished, fueled by their skills, and managed by a cunning nobility. This much was certain based on the rows of tidy shops that lined the streets. They featured finely crafted items in their windows, but further inside there was no workbench, no smelting fire, no sign at all of the sort of mess that real crafting entails. If I had to have guessed I would say the goods were bought cheaper elsewhere. Those who shopped in this district did so because if they ever met the real masters, they would gasp at the horror of associating with one so below their status.

A few gossiping aristocrats confirmed my suspicions, “…prices in the dwarven district are ruining…”

Ah yes, dwarves, that would do it: a race so skilled at crafting and architecture, but so poor with words and no patience for politics. They basically cried out for mistreatment by their very nature. The supplies we needed would be cheapest in the dwarven district, so I suggested we pay it a visit. It was an inconvenient walk, far from the main gates. We rounded several corners, finding less glamor and more filth the farther we went, until we came upon a smaller square packed with twice the shops of the main district. We found a potion shop first and packed ourselves inside.

The shop was built for dwarves, and by consequence the ceilings were low and most of the room’s meager space was occupied by a working cauldron and a wall-length shelf of spell components. The floor was littered with dust and little pieces of herbs. These were the marks of a true craftsman, and I was glad to have come to the right place.

A cheery, red faced dwarf welcomed us from behind the counter, “Good day to ya’ lads ‘n lassie. What c’n I do for yeh?”

“We’re looking for healing potions” the barbarian, Malakar, answered.

“Aye then, I got all the healing potions yeh could ever want” the dwarf bellowed as he produced from behind him an array of potion bottles of differing hues, “now here yeh got yer cure lights, your cure moderates, yer cure serious and for the really tough wounds, yer cure criticals.” He pointed to each bottle in turn.

“How much for cure light?” Malakar asked.

“70 gold, lad, or 10 for 600” He offered.

I frowned. He was bumping the price up because he thought we were
nobility. I wondered what prices he sold wholesale to the fools in the main district. Probably more. I was in no mood to part with that much gold, though, so I worked a charm on him and asked him again.

“How about 40 for one?” I offered politely as the spell took hold, forcing the dwarf to regard me as an old friend.

“O' course, lass, that sounds fair.” He replied affectionately “or 10 for 350.”

We made the deal, absconding with 10 potions each before the spell wore off. We headed for the nearest tavern to stay the night. I was looking forward to a hot meal and a comfortable bed when the nearest tavern found us, in the form of a drunken dwarf being hurled out of a window into the snow before us. Warm light and hearty laughter flowed from within, along with shouts of “take yer preachin elsewhere yer holiness!”

Malakar lent the dwarf a hand and dragged him out of the snow, displaying his oft unnoticed barbarian strength. The stranger was tall for a dwarf with a bright red beard the likes of which one would expect and a smile to match. He thanked us for our help and against my wishes the business of introductions was initiated.

“I am Bronn” the dwarf mustered, “servant of Torag.”

“Kepesk of the southern dragons” I replied dutifully, though making the acquaintance of a paladin was not something I wanted or needed.

Just as I was hoping this holy warrior wasn’t the prying sort, the damned fool muttered an almost inaudible prayer and I knew my secret was out. I extrapolated from the shock on his face that his detect evil spell had yielded results. I imagined overwhelmingly powerful evil woven through my very blood, originating from a tattoo on my clavicle. My own allegiance would probably be undetectable in comparison, but I still had some explaining to do. I prepared mentally to play at ignorance. If I had to, perhaps a misleading truth about the nature of sorcery. Some admission of the evil dragons I once served. If it came down to it, a threat. Anything but the truth.

“By asmodeous left testicle!” the paladin shouted, “Lass! What is WRONG with your shoulder?”

I donned my most innocent and confused face, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, friend.”

“Well we have to get you to a temple straight away!” He uttered, taking my hand.

“I don’t think so” I said sharply, pulling my hand away, “I think you might be drunk.”

My companions were eyeing me skeptically, which made me more uncomfortable. These fools should trust me completely, but I knew they had their doubts ever since we had joined the Brotherhood. Dragging them into my infiltration of a secret society had been necessary, but it had also put a strain on our working relationship as I kept more and more information from them. I opted to disengage, walking away from the group purposefully into the tavern.

Inside I sat at the bar and ordered a meal. The paladin and my companions entered after, but only the paladin approached me again. Fortunately he was stopped by the barkeep who told him to leave before his in had to deal with another broken window. As they argued I picked up some chatter from the rest of the room.

“Who does that paladin think he is, preaching to us while our families starve.” Said one.

“Torag can’t help us now, we’re on our own” muttered another.

“If he don’t leave I’ll slit the bastards throat meself” wheezed the man beside me.

The consensus was clear, and added another feature to my understanding of this city. Among these dwarves, religion was not welcome. Their living conditions were so dismal, this usually noble race had turned its back on their gods, on their hope, and to some extend their heritage. These were desperate, violent people, propping up the entire city with their blood. They were realizing they had nothing to lose and they were ready to do something about it.

It was during these musings that a familiar glint caught my eye. A man at the opposite end of the bar tipped his hat to me, revealing a silver amulet in the shape of a wolf’s head. I pulled back my sleeve to reveal my own. He wanted to speak with me, and in this I knew I would have the barbarian’s support. I found him in the crowd, flashed my amulet, and motioned for him to come distract the nosey paladin. He did as he was bid and I was able to approach the agent.

“Evening brother” I spoke softly to the man, “what can I do for you?”

“Sit, sister” he answered, “as it happens, it seems we have a revolution on our hands.”

The agent explained the situation in the city as I had suspected. The seeds of revolution had been planted years ago with high taxes on crafted goods, laws restricting entrance to the city to outsiders, and an underlying racism that kept the dwarven population oppressed. However, an opening in the city council had sparked many dwarves to action. One candidate, an old scholar named Soluth, advocated better working conditions for dwarves within the city, strengthening trade with the barbarian tribes, and a more lenient policy to allow outsiders access to the city. The other, Kathull, was a younger man from a noble family who called for a crackdown on dwarven weapon smithing and cutting ties with the barbarian tribes.

“I fear that if the council does not make this decision soon, this entire area could become destabilized” the agent finished, “it doesn’t matter who wins, but one or the other must be elected soon or we will have bloodshed on our hands.”

“We’ll take care of it” I promised.

I was glad to have some common ground with the barbarian again. I explained the situation to him, playing up the fate of his precious tribes in the mix. It was decided that tomorrow we would endeavor to campaign for the right candidate and stabilize the city. I paid for our rooms and one by one we turned in for the night.

I was so glad to lay in a real bed again that I fell asleep almost instantly. I slept comfortably, but it could not last. After a few hours I felt a familiar presence in my mind.

“Kepesk” the voice of a man prodded gently, “it has been thirty days, what have you to report?” Through the fog of my dreams the image of my employer came into focus. It was the first time I had ever seen him without the half mask he wore in front of enemies. His face was strong and serious. He wore black robes, but his dark red hair was exposed. I nearly didn’t recognize him.

“I have had little contact with the brotherhood before today” I began my report. I informed him of my movements and the movements of my group since my last report. I listed the cities we had visited where we had found no agent of the brotherhood stationed, I told what I had gathered of barbarian customs from our time in the wastes, and I gave a detailed assessment of this city’s gathering revolution and the brotherhood’s intentions to stabilize the situation.

“You have done well, agent” the man in black said, “this city’s instability pleases me. If these godless dwarves need a savior, they might be more inclined to join me. Do as the brotherhood asks with these councilors, but insure that their stability does not last long.”

“Are you sure, sir?” I managed, “if you want the brotherhood to trust me, I ultimately will have to help them in some ways. This might be a good time to build that.” The man in black usually respected my ideas when we disagreed, a quality that insured my loyalty almost as much as his vision.

“You are correct” he conceded, “but I feel there is an obvious choice that will lead this city to ruin much more quickly than the brotherhood realizes. This man, Kathull, you must support him.”

“Of course, sir, it will be done.” I told him, knowing this was not going to win me favor with the barbarian or the paladin who seemed insistent on following us around. That was my problem, though, not the man in black’s.

He nodded solemnly and for a moment I saw the strain of battle on his face, “I will need strong reinforcements within the year. Set this city on a path to destruction as quickly as you can and report to me any developments. As always, I will be watching.”

Then he was gone, as I sunk back into my dreams I felt a growing excitement that tomorrow would be far more challenging than I had planned. I could easily stabilize a government, but it was so much more fun to knock out the foundation and watch it fall.

As the Dwarven Paladin of this campaign, i would like to say I both love and hate you/your character. I like the writing, though!

[PaperMustache]

As the Dwarven Paladin of this campaign, i would like to say I both love and hate you/your character. I like the writing, though!

Thank you! And also... screw you I think? Ladies and gentlemen the derpadin. You should write your character's perspective, I would be interested. Also sorry for renaming him. I couldn't remember it. It was Joseph or something, wasn't it? I did the same thing to Tim, and Howard's character is too neutral to have a name and I didn't know how to deal with that.

[MasonDon]

Eh, one of us is going to end up dying horribly. I will, soon as I finish my backstory. It was originally Sir Joseph Broadfront as I hadn't thought of a good name, but I do enjoy the name of a badass sellsword just as much.

[AIGilstad]

One of my players has been bothering me to post a snippet of the main villain of my campaign. I love the villain so i decided to give it a shot.

Making Strange Bedfellows pt1

Spoiler

I could feel her eyes on me as I walked down the path, spell book in hand as I read through the long list of world altering abilities I’d accumulated in the last 15 years since I joined the Brotherhood. She always watched me when I wandered the grounds of the compound. The interfering b****. I was the leader of the Brotherhood!

The most powerful man in the most powerful society of espionage and assassination to ever grace either the old kingdom or the new cesspit the people called new kingdoms, and she had the nerve to judge me on how I run MY organization. Sheila…a whore’s name if the reports were to be believed. A whore standing just below me in rank, judging my actions and questioning my motives. Couldn’t she understand that the world was sick…festering...a hole from which only dregs and scum could ever surface, and that what I did kept the good from sinking into obscurity. What was one death, if it saves hundreds from tyranny? What was one, false politician planted by us, if it keeps the wrong man from winning?

I stopped under the old oak, closing the book as I glanced up at the balcony, the mask I wore cutting off my peripherals as I scanned her body. I had to admit, despite being a meddler; she had quite the body. Whatever God the elves worship must’ve had an eye for beauty, because even the ugliest of their kind could strike a man dumb, were they of weaker will than those like me.

Her almond eyes were full of laughter as she met my gaze, her lips cocked in that little half smile she always had when she knew more than she should. After a few seconds she lowered her eyes respectfully and then pretended to go back to looking at the grounds, but I caught her eyes flitting back to me as she grew bored with the unchanging landscape. Truly I was sick of her. Could I kill her? No…it would be obvious, and it would serve no greater purpose. It might’ve been easier, but I opted for the more difficult route. If the whore was so interested in me, I’d feign interest in her. Perhaps if I shared her bed, she would finally learn to hold her tongue when I announced new missions. Maybe she’d even take my side if I did well enough.

I looked back up to her and smiled, giving her a small bow once I saw she was watching me again. Sure enough I saw a smile light up her face, and she gave a small wave as I began walking back towards the compound. The first move was made, and if I played well enough, I’d have a new queen on my board within the month.

I made my way up to my rooms, depositing my tome in the secure chest beneath the floor. While I enjoyed espionage and assassination, the game was what I lived for. Much like chess, the game had many moves, many counters to those moves, and many preparations to make to avoid such counters. Chess grew boring quickly for me, but this…this always fascinated me. Some called it negotiating, others manipulation, but only I knew the truth. There was no name for this game we played. It simply…was.

After a few minutes of contemplation I rose, realizing I didn’t know enough about Sheila to make a competent move. I could’ve searched the records, perhaps asked other agents, but I always had a soft spot for making my opponents reveal their moves to me themselves.

I made my way through the twisting hallways and passages that made up the main compound, realizing that to get anything, I’d have to give up something precious, a secret only one other knew. My face, hidden away behind that accursed mask for the last 15 years. An enigma led better than a recognized face in that business, but it also held many opportunities for the game. What better to gain trust than to reveal a secret that everyone wants to learn? Such a simple thing that old mask.

I stopped in front of the balcony, a little surprised to see her still standing there, her back to the door as she leaned over the railing. Surely she’d seen me leave the grounds long ago. Perhaps this was the elven fascination with nature I kept reading about. After a few seconds, I saw her ears prick up, a sight that almost sent me into fits of laughter, much like the hounds that once sniffed out vagabonds in the city of my youth. The dogs were easy to fool, and I hoped for a slightly more difficult game with this woman. She turned to me slowly, surprise in her eyes as she took in my presence.

“Sir?” she asked quietly, her voice sounding more music than speech. “What can I do for you?”

“My dear Sheila,” I replied just as softly, taking a step closer. “I just wished to show you something. You’ve stood at my side for so many years now; I thought it fair that you be privy to certain…sensitive information.”

“Of course I’m honored Sir,” she said, her eyes revealing the cold calculating mind that so infuriated me as she started trying to discern my motives. “But I’ve stood against you in all your recent decisions. I had thought you would’ve preferred me dead.”

The clever girl was as adept at reading minds as any wizard. “No Sheila. I don’t kill agents for disagreeing with me. Only fools silence those that question them. I always welcome criticism, for it allows me insight into avenues I haven’t explored. In fact, I find myself fascinated by your clever mind.”

I found myself impressed that the shock of my statement only flashed in her eyes, while the rest of her face remained just as composed as ever. A lesser man would’ve missed the subtle clues, but I knew I had succeeded in destroying the foundation of belief that she had constructed for me. I almost pitied the fools that tried to paint the picture of my mind. How could any mere mortal possibly comprehend all the facets of my psyche? A thousand thoughts would flit through my mind in a minute, and yet they all try to understand me?

“If that is the case Sir,” she replied, stepping towards me. “Then I would be honored to learn this secret.”

I smiled then, my blood coursing as I considered every implication of that simple statement. Her movements towards me implied trust, but were easily falsified or excused by wishing to move from the drop. Honored to learn could imply that she was pleased I trusted her, or perhaps just glad to know something new. Oh the girl was good at hiding her intentions, but I was better, I just needed information first.

I took her by the shoulder smiling again, surprised to see a small blush creep up her cheeks. Perhaps I had missed some subtle hint after all. My smile widened as I began walking her to my rooms. Slowly the blush vanished, her eyes hardening and she shoulders stiffening. I could tell she was nervous again. Calming words and explanations could only take one so far.

“If my room would make you uncomfortable, we could use yours,” I said nonchalantly. Perhaps she WOULD be more comfortable there, but I was sure she wouldn’t want a man she didn’t trust anywhere near her private quarters, whereas offering mine showed a large amount of trust, not that she could know about the traps and spells lining every surface to keep intruders from disturbing them.

“No sir, your chambers are acceptable,” she replied a tad too quickly. The girl was truly an artisan, but up against a master she stood no chance. I stopped in front of my chambers, watching the excitement in her eyes as I opened the door, simultaneously triggering the counterward for every spell in the room. So long as I didn’t retrigger the ward, everything would be as it would in a normal room.

“Now Sheila,” I said as I sat in an armchair, offering her its twin. “Before I show you this, I need your oath of silence. If this secret were to escape from those I trust, it would destroy my reputation.” A simple request, but it implied so much more. Including her in with “those I trust” would ensure her silence in this matter because she wouldn’t want to ruin the trust I had apparently extended to her.

“Of course Sir,” she answered softly. “I would never tell anyone something so precious.”

I took her hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “Thank you Sheila.” I then reached up and removed the mask from my face, letting my red tresses fall from behind my hood to lie with my face. “A face means little…but this might be better. My name…is Andrew.

[Dr Bwaa]

I'm really sorry to anyone who has actually been reading my snippets that I haven't posted anything in ages. I'm working on it; I promise. There's just a lot to get through, I've been busy with real work, and I'm trying to make some major changes to the way I create the narrative (specifically I'm trying to be okay with making it longer, which I'm finding harder than expected). If you're lucky I'll post something this weekend, but don't count on it (why would you when all these wonderful other people keep dropping great material on the thread?).

COMMENT DUMP HOORAY

@mebecronck

Spoiler

"Now, Mr. Cronc, let me begin by saying how happy I am with you for coming in to see me." Dr. Rhodes says in a calm voice, hiding his fear by flipping through his notebook, "This is the first step in managing your anger issues."

Great scene-setting. I am laughing already.

"Wuy Cronc lae on cowt?" Cronc barked out.

Personally I think just "barked" is better here; "barked out" seems redundant and awkward to me.

"No! Cronc wunt lae on cowt!"

"Okay?!..."

This bugged me a bit. We do know that Dr. Rhodes is frightened, but presumably a professional counselor would not be phased in the slightest by people seeming to change their minds suddenly; certainly he would not show it in his voice. It comes off as extremely unprofessional for no good reason (it's not like Cronc did something frightening, in which case I would have understood the slip).

Cronc tries to repeat the word, forcing each syllable. He does not know what it means and thinking about it is giving him a headache.

Minor point here, but we should know by now whether Cronc did, in fact, lie down on the couch. We find out later that he did, but I think it should be mentioned, perhaps the paragraph before this while Dr. Rhodes is speaking.

"OHHH! Cronc bracke tings reel gud!" Cronc shouted with joy, as he jumped up from the couch, axe in hand.

Haha, saw that coming. Don't say "break things"; what were you thinking Dr. Rhodes!? I'd love a description of Cronc's face here--I'm picturing him grinning and looking around at all the nice things in the room--but I want to see you describe his grin, and at this point, it would be even better if, when you set the scene originally, you mentioned one or two particularly exciting things to break (windows, walls, priceless artifacts, etc...). That way when we get here we're thinking about all the nice stuff that's about to get trashed...

A sign in front of a lot filled with debris. Reads simply, "Practice of Dr. Rhodes - Closed due to lack of building."

There's no reason not to use complete sentences here.

Cronc approaches him and pats him on the back, knocking the doctor down.

"Cronc du reel gud, yah!"

Haha. Great end, though it does bring up a question: why is Cronc still around, and only just mentioning what a good job he did, when Dr. Rhodes has had enough time to get out of the debris, assess the situation, go buy paint, and create and put up a sign about his lack of building?

I definitely vote for you doing a series of shorts on this, because they are hilarious

@PaperMustache
Amolarr II

Spoiler

Malakar, however, was weak for the wellbeing of his tribesmen.

This seems like a weird phrase to me. Your intent is clear enough, but this could be read as "he chose to be physically weak, because that was in the best interests of his tribesmen", which is obviously not what you're going for.

wiping the sleep from their eyes over hot tea and biscuits.

I originally read this as "wiping the sleep from their eyes with hot tea and biscuits" and the resulting mental image was hilarious

“One of ‘ems a good man, the other’s a scheming evil maniac like you” he grumbled back, sharper than I had anticipated. I opted to ignore the insult for the present, mostly because he was right.

Lol.

“Way I see it, the dwarves want Soluth, and all the noble types want Kathul” he reasoned,

There should be a comma just before the termination of the quote, and this spelling of 'Kathul' is inconsistent with the spelling you used it the first paragraph.

“If we take too long, everyone will suffer” I replied, setting the final trap, “including your precious tribes who rely on these people for trade.”

“The tribes of Falcon and Salamander have no business with this city” he retorted indignantly, “only the northern tribes rely on Amolar.”

“You’re right” I conceded as the trap closed in around him, “how ignorant of me. I was under the impression that you cared for all the tribes.”

The "trap" does not come across clearly enough here, in my opinion. The only trap I see is the guilt-trip all-the-tribes-all-of-them thing, but I don't really see how tricking Malakar into implying he only cares for some tribes and then pointing out this contradiction would be an effective negotiation technique. Or at least, it's unclear why that would be any more affective than just pointing out that he cares about all the tribes in the first place. It makes the "professional negotiator of my status" line in the next paragraph feel weak, because you haven't convinced me that you're a good negotiator yet.

Only Bronn failed to join my cause. He sat quietly as I argued with the barbarian.

This is referring to the conversation that just finished, yes? If so, it needs to be in a past-er tense (Past Perfect) than the main narrative; otherwise it seems like you and Malakar resolve the issue, the fighter falls into line, and then suddenly you and Malakar are arguing again. "He'd remained quietly seated [editor's note: "He'd sat quietly" works too, but I just don't like "had sat"] while I had argued with the barbarian."

My people will suffer and evil will have won if another noble sits on the council.”

This seems a bit melodramatic, even for a Paladin. Maybe not melodramatic, maybe...hopeless? "Evil will have won" is very absolute, whereas I see paladins being all about fighting to the last breath whether or not there's even a sliver of hope left. "won a great battle"; "struck a terrible blow"; those are the sorts of less-absolute-yet-still-dire-sounding phrases that I'd feel are more appropriate for a paladin in this situation.

“then I shall rejoin you after this matter has been dealt with.”

Wow, pretty lenient for a paladin. Unless he's planning to "rejoin" them with a bunch of troops under his command to arrest them for crimes against all that is Good and Holy, in which case awesome.

His offices were difficult to find, and there were armed guards outside.

Okay, what? Anyplace that regularly staffs armed guards outside the door is going to be damn well-known if you ask anyone even remotely familiar with the area. Unless everyone has armed guards outside their offices, in which case why is it worth mentioning?

They initially refused to answer any further questions, but our persistence won out.

I realize that this is a pretty long snippet anyway, but this is the first we've heard of the party's "persistence", and also the last. A concept like persistence should...persist. It needs more elaboration, an earlier introduction and example of them sticking around and specifics about their perstering the guards before you can say "our persistence won out".

Normally supporters proved their loyalty by representing their chosen candidate in the city arena: a bloody spectacle attended by nobles and peasants alike. Success in the arena earned the trust of the candidate.

Starting this with "normally" makes me expect a turnaround "but in our case, we did X to prove our loyalty."

Instead Malakar pressed a crossbow into my hands and very conscendingly taught me the basics of pointing and shooting.

Looooooooollllll. I like the dynamic between these two and I'd love it if you brought it out more.

“Keep your guard up in there, yeh?” He muttered to me with a twinkle in his eye

Is Bronn planning to interfere with the match? Eye-twinkles imply mischief, but Paladins imply punishment for crimes. What does Bronn mean by that?!?!

His presence was a bother and I had no reason to be kind to him.

This sentence is unnecessary.

I was going to get myself and my friends killed because I never bothered to hone my battle casting skills.

I love the arrogance. Even when she's decided she's screwed, she's completely sure that her party will not possibly survive without her.

I had grown comfortable with them. I knew their weaknesses, how to argue them into submission, how to ruin them.

AWESOME.

I used this realization to strengthen my resolve.

How? This line is a cop-out.

Oh god oh god we’re all going to die.

The back-and-forth is great. You're doing the pre-battle really really well.

Cheers went up from the crowd as the wizard screamed in defeat. We were declared victorious.

Awww. I was hoping they'd get to take out Damien himself.

I glared in defiance. He was wrong, I wasn’t dead yet.

My defiance was short lived.

Really close together to be repeating a stand-out word like this.

I realized that at this rate our supplies would not last long enough to heal us fully after each match.

How many competitors are there? Or put another way, how many matches are there?

“I’m looking for some healing potions” I said casually

Oh hell yes.

If we kept up our winning streak I could very easily make off with plenty of noble jewels and trinkets.

Did she actually steal anything just now? You didn't mention it and it seems like she wouldn't have (necessarily), but this line makes it seem like she had some pickpocketing success that she's basing her judgement on.

“Didn’t I tell you to be on your guard out here?” he chided as if we were friends,

Okay, what? Why did he save her??

When he saw that we were losing, Bronn flung himself into the ring with a mighty bellow.

But WHY? What is his possible motivation here, allying himself against the candidate he supports? If he really cares about the rest of the party, that's news to me!

The paladin was grinning sheepishly and nodding his head.

whyyyyyyyyy

our participation would be enforced by the city guards.

Okay let's be honest here the city guards are probably no threat at all

it clawed at us and sunk it’s fangs into the barbarian’s chest. Howard hacked at the dragons legs

*sank *its *dragon's

Just as it reared its head back to deliver a killing blow to Malakar

Why is it a killing blow? The specificity feels like metagame knowledge seeping into the narrative. Couching the phrase in some more detail would smooth this out "It reared its head back to deliver what would surely have been a killing blow to the panting, beleaguered Malakar, had not Howard finally managed...etc" or something like that (that particular sentence I just wrote is kind of crap but you get the point).

We accepted our rewards, 500 platinum pieces each.

Score!!

I thanked him while imagining what he might look like as a smear of blood reflected infinitely on every surface of the mirror realm.

Not in a great mood, is she?

This was a great snippet; loved the tournament and Kepesk's emotional states came across really well. NEXT!

Amolarr III

Spoiler

I tried to convince them that sweat, mud, and the blood of our enemies would not make for appropriate attire in the presence of a noble outside the arena, but they were beyond reason.

Oh my Gods I love the party interaction even though we rarely get to see it directly. I'm a bit curious why Bronn isn't in the cleanliness camp, though.

Maroon walls seemed to emphasize the disapproving stares of the men in a dozen paintings lining the walls.

You're setting a great scene, though I'm unsure of why maroon walls would be particularly hostile, besides feeling probably a bit dark (but then again, this place is probably comparitively quite bright for an indoor situation anyway, given the setting).

I wondered briefly why he had come at all.

So was I, so I'm glad you explicitly mention here that his reasons for being there are unknown to the narrator as well. It keeps me from feeling like I've missed something.

Once we were all gathered we were lead into the study to meet Kathul.

Comma after gathered, and I've gotta ask--how the heck do you pronounce this guy's name??

“Ah, you must be the heroes from the arena” he droned, “I was quite impressed with your exploits.”

The content of his speech doesn't mesh well with "droned", at least not without more description. If he's acting bored or being otherwise just barely polite enough not to be actually offensive, that should be clarified.

I hated him for a different reason entirely... This man was by far the worst politician I had ever met.

Good to see her priorities are in order. And it's good to see some personal motivation for what I assume will be a rather sound beatdown coming soon after he takes control of the city.

The man in black would be pleased.

Okay, she's working for this dude, sees him in dreams, and so on, but she doesn't have a better name for him than "the man in black"? Even if she doesn't know who he actually is (likely), she would at least have a personal name to refer to him by in her thoughts.

He had just layed out a proposition of fraud in front of a paladin of all people!

Haha, fail. Nothing like trying to bring a plain old horribly-inept politician into a position of power.

I snatched the letter out of his hands before he did something stupid

Given the derision she already holds for this man, I think "stupider" would be appropriate here.

The bastard cut me off. “I know exactly what a group of heroes for hire like you are good for” he sneered

The word "heroes" just begs to be abused, especially considering what he's asking of them.

how to plant this letter in the enemy candidate’s office without the aid of my companions.

Well to be fair, they probably wouldn't have been much help anyway

I layed in my bed

*lay [[see TANGENT]]

I imagined myself climbing through a window in the dead of night, making a spectacle of myself for all the sleeping world to see.

Heheh. Can't tell how much of this is sarcasm and how much isn't, because it's clearly some of each--I like it.

Surely he would indulge me in completing such a simple task.

Oh wow I definitely wouldn't be trying that. In my experience asking favors from incredibly powerful entities rarely--by which I mean never--ends well.

“I am pleased to hear this” the man in black said patiently, though I could see exhaustion in his eyes.

Again, there's this awkward dissonance between calling him just "the man in black" and being intimate enough that they share a blood bond and she's looking deep into his eyes. She's gotta have a better name for him than this.

“I can do this easily” he agreed, I slipped the letter through the mirror and it appeared in his hand, “I will return when it is finished.” He returned seconds later.

“It is finished” he told me

WAT. ...Everything went better than expected, I guess. You could really work the tension here; any genre-savvy reader is going to react like I did when she foists this random demand on him (that is, "oh dear lord she's screwed"); you could definitely milk the interaction for some more drama, even though she is clearly pretty comfortable with him.

“A gift” he smiled, “I have given you a portion of my casting ability. For the next 24 hours you will be able to draw from my power to cast a powerful dominating spell three times. It should be more than enough to secure the cooperation of your companions.”

Ahaahahahahahahaha. Hahahahaa. Ahaha. That is pretty damn boss.

I would not waste this gift on my companions.

I should hope not! That is all kinds of ill-gotten power right there (what are you guys, like level three?); it's time to abuse the everloving hell out of it!

“You are not qualified for this council position” I commanded, drawing on my master’s power, “you should withdraw from the race immediately and put all of your efforts behind Kathul’s campaign.”

“Y-yes” the man blinked in confusion, “yes you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. I will start to put my affairs in order and withdraw at once.”

In your other two Dominations, the subject doesn't respond to you, which is pretty much ideal. It shows off your insane powergrab really well. In this case, there's clearly need for him to speak, but I see no reason why Kepesk shouldn't control his reply to her to be as convenient as possible--no stammering, no confusion (after all, he doesn't really have a will of his own at this point), just a nice, convincing show for the two guards. It would make this takeover even more effective, I think, and clarify what kind of power she's actually been granted.

“You are the worst politician I have ever met” I announced to his surprise, “but I have use for you. A glorious purpose.” He opened his mouth to say something stupid.

The only suggestion I'd make here is "I have use for you now" could be "I have a purpose for you now" to better set up the next line.

“You work for me now” I said, using the last of the power the man in black had given me to shut him up, “and you are going to start acting like a real councilman, and then you are going to win and together we will run this city so far into the ground that even the dwarves won’t have use for it.”

Oh man I am all kinds of loving this plotline. Great job with the badass misuse of power; great targets; great dialogue (if it can be called that when one person controls everyone else's parts of the conversation); great descriptions. I am hugely looking forward to the next installment.

@SleepyShadow

Spoiler

The slithering tendrils of film lifted Mr. Long from the balcony and began to assimilate him into its form

Wat.

...No seriously, if a dude is getting assimilated into a filmstrip monster, we need more detail. 'Assimilated' means he must actually be turning into part of the film-monster--that is, turning into filmstrips--himself. And that is a thing that begs for vivid description.

"Here you all shall perish!" he laughed madly. "I offer you all as sacrifices for the glory of Yog-Sothoth!"

...Especially if he's still able to yell. Maybe the problem is just that assimilated is the wrong word?

The swordsage leaped from the balcony, his blade erupting in flame as he fell upon the mass of film.

It seems to me that he'd be more likely to fall into such a foe, rather than upon it. Or perhaps the thing is more solid than I'm picturing it.

the creature pulled itself fully out of the hole in the floor

Where's Derive?

"Nice going," Lupin grumbled loudly as he fired his pistol at the creature.

That seems unlikely to be effective It's a good image though, as I expect they're not really prepared for this sort of occurence.

"Remind me to take Power Attack after this fight," Derive replied as he hacked off yet another thick tendril from the creature.

Lucy's arrows stuck firmly into the top of the beast, though to little effect. "Think we'll level up from this?"

Lupin nodded up at her. "Most likely, assuming we survive."

Haha. And Then Everyone Took A Moment To Eat Pizza And Discuss The New Guild Wars.

Slowly, the convulsions subsided, and the mass of film lay still. Ignoring the hazardous flames around them, Derive cautiously approached the blob and poked it with his index finger.

WHYYYYYYYYYY. Y U DO THAT DERIVE??
Speaking of hazardous flames, wasn't the building burning down a few seconds ago?

A sickening groan resounded throughout the room just before the building collapsed.

Oh there it goes.

"Eww, I don't want to become a vegetable," Lucy whined, sticking out her tongue in disgust.

Hahaha. High Int scores all around.

On it was a rough sketch of a strange symbol akin to having three 'Y's arranged so that the two prongs from each 'Y' made a sort of triangle.

Okay I know describing symbols in text is hard, but that doesn't excuse this sentence.

Fun snippet; I'm really curious why the thing died though, and I feel like there were several places where you could have really hammered the atmosphere a little better--they're fighting a filmstrip-tentacle-abomination that just burst out of the floor in the middle of a theatre. There is all kinds of potential for creepiness, grossness, and general grimdarkitude, but you don't do a lot with it. The monster eventually detonates with enough force to collapse the whole building, but all we get is that it "violently exploded". And why did it explode, anyway. Are any of them even curious about it? It seems like that would be pertinent information.

@Winds

Spoiler

The liches recovered quickly, and simply teleported away.

Wait, she poured the dust on them, too? That sounds even less like a good idea than pouring random dust on strangers locked in temporal stasis usually does.

A new annoyance for my catalog,

Haha, I like to think that he keeps a literal, physical catalog (besides the journal) of things that annoy him.

So when I got there, Jessica and Kol were there already.

No idea where "there" is.

"Unless you're willing to hit them, keep us in fighting condition."

"Vitriol Chain."

Okay, so presumably they're now fighting the liches? Which they found because there was only one way to go, maybe? This could use some serious clarification.

unnatural armor

Lol.

We, of course, were nothing more than an annoyance. No weapon in our possession was able to bypass the unnatural armor their undead nature granted, and my spells were not much more than an annoyance.

I can fling acid and frost and pure dark force. The scout's skills see enemies as pincushions in short order, and a paladin with a holy avenger is a terror to his foes. But in this case, we weren't much more than an annoyance.

How is it we're always the weakest things in it?

I know, right?

Aileph felt bad for her...so much so that he left the celestial horse with her. It meant he was less effective in combat...but he thought it worthwhile.

Woah what? This seems like a Really Big Deal. Why is it not being a Really Big Deal?

Well. I had planning to do.

Oooh. Good to hear. Nice snippet as usual; I'd still love to see more detail in these; more time spent on describing the exotic places they go. You've got a setup with ever-changing scenery and it's a shame to miss the opportunity to lay it all out.

@AIGilstad
Welcome to the Playground! Here's my abbreviated disclaimer: I do a critique on every snippet posted here. If you don't want me to, or if you'd like me to focus on something in particular, tell me; otherwise I do a combination of sort of mid-strength analysys of plot, style, grammar, and so on plus a kind of liveblogging reaction-type post. That's sensible, right?

Spoiler

the long list of world altering abilities I’d accumulated in the last 15 years since I joined the Brotherhood.

*world-altering, and "the last 15 years since I joined the Brotherhood" feels like a few too many words, or too much exposition all at once, or something. Even just taking out "last" would help a lot.

the old kingdom or the new cesspit the people called new kingdoms

If you reorganized this a bit (and stripped out one of the "new"s) it would flow a lot better. "the old kingdom or the cesspit people called the new kingdoms" or something.

Sheila…a whore’s name if the reports were to be believed.

I sense a little hostility here.

What was one death, if it saves hundreds from tyranny? What was one, false politician planted by us, if it keeps the wrong man from winning?

You don't need a comma in "one false politician". Also there's a tense issue here; there's no need to jump to the present tense for the subjunctive bits-- "what was one death, if it saved etc".

the mask I wore cutting off my peripherals as I scanned her body.

This makes me feel like his mask is cutting off his arms and legs. "Peripherals" refers to objects; I think you need to either go with "peripheral vision" or use a different turn of phrase entirely, like "restricting my field of vision". Also I'd replace "the mask I wore" with just "my mask"; it's cleaner.

I had to admit, despite being a meddler; she had quite the body.

Do meddlers normally not have good bodies?

were they of weaker will than those like me.

Good sentiment; I like the irony here where he's literally just stopped what he was doing to stare at her while thinking about how he's immune to her charms. The phrasing is a little awkward, though, and I'd also expect this kind of man (from what I know of him, which is admittedly little) to give no one besides himself the credit of being able to resist her "me", rather than "those like me".

Maybe she’d even take my side if I did well enough.

She's his inferior in rank only, then. Clearly their personal dynamic is the reverse.

After a few minutes of contemplation I rose, realizing I didn’t know enough about Sheila to make a competent move.

I'm getting mixed messages here. Sometimes he seems quite familiar with Sheila--familiar enough to refer to her as just "her" in the opening paragraphs--and sometimes, like here, he barely seems to know her at all.

An enigma led better than a recognized face in that business, but it also held many opportunities for the game.

What? I am confused.

After a few seconds, I saw her ears prick up, a sight that almost sent me into fits of laughter

Hahaha, great detail work here. Easy to picture and very flavorful.

“Of course I’m honored Sir,”

You're missing at least one comma here, probably more.

pitied the fools

lol.

How could any mere mortal possibly comprehend all the facets of my psyche?

Uh... is the speaker not mortal? Or is this just arrogance? Suddenly the world seems like a bigger place; this line says an awful lot about the character (and opens up some very important questions!!)

her eyes hardening and she shoulders stiffening.

*her shoulders

“If my room would make you uncomfortable, we could use yours,” I said nonchalantly.

If he's trying to make her comfortable, he's really bad at it.

she replied a tad too quickly. The girl was truly an artisan

This is a bit jarring; you criticize her behavior and follow up with her being "truly an artisan". I see the intent, but the ordering of the phrases makes it very strange to read.

I stopped in front of my chambers, watching the excitement in her eyes as I opened the door

Why excitement? What's so exciting; just being let into his private chambers, or what? Just a few sentences ago she seemed apprehensive; how did that become excitement?

Including her in with “those I trust” would ensure her silence in this matter because she wouldn’t want to ruin the trust I had apparently extended to her.

I feel like this should be nested in the same layers of bluffing and double-bluffing that his other analyses have been. How does she know that his trust is genuine? Why would he think that she believes him enough to ensure her silence?

letting my red tresses fall from behind my hood ... My name…is Andrew.

Just saying, "tresses" has a really strong feminine connotation. It makes "Andrew" come as rather a shock. If that's intentional, great, but in that case I'd also be pretty confused about the speaker, and I'd want more earlier on to clarify (or mislead more strongly) the gender. I do really like the value placed on the name--very good; very appropriate. Very good snippet overall, in fact! Don't take my pile of criticisms to mean that I didn't enjoy it, because I most certainly did. Are there more to come, I hope?

AND NOW, SOMETHING NO ONE REQUESTED OR WANTED!

@Grammar Tangent: Lay/Lie

Spoiler

"To lay" and "to lie" are notoriously difficult irregular verbs in English, not least because "lie" turns into "lay" in the past tense However, the actual uses are very different, and once you know the difference, the distinction between them is simple.

LIE is a thing you, or something else, does personally. It is an intransitive verb, which means it cannot take an object--so, it is impossible to "lie something down". In that case, the "something" would be a direct object--and the verb simply doesn't have space for a direct object. It cannot happen. So you "lie down", or possibly "something lies down".

LAY is exactly the same as lie, except that it is a transitive verb--it must always take an object. Thus, you "lay something down", but you cannot possibly "lay down" (in the present tense), because there's no direct object there.

This stuff is simple enough, and if this was all, no one would have trouble with these verbs. The problems arise because they're irregular, so conjugating them creates confusion, and then that confusion becomes culturally entrenched and then no one knows what the difference originally was anymore. So, how to conjugate them:

TO LIE: (no direct object)

lie (present): He lies like a rug.
lay (past): I lay in my bed all afternoon, thinking about Skittles.
lain (past participle): He would have lain there all week if it weren't for that freak bulldozer accident.

TO LAY: (direct object in boldface)

lay (present): Lay it on me!
laid (past): My pet dragon just laid an egg!
laid (past participle): I had just laid out the carpet when a herd of elephants came through.

If you want a refresher on what a part participle is, they come up in the Past Perfect tense.

So: Lie, lay, lain vs. Lay, laid, laid. Lie takes no objects ever; lay takes one all the time. That's all there is! And if you ever find yourself trying to use a word not on this list (I mean, there are only four of them all told), stop, think, remember how great I am, and fix it. "Lied" is never, ever correct in this context (it's the past tense of "to tell an untruth"). "Layed" is a terribly, horribly common way to spell "laid", but it is not a word.

Feel free to think of examples to help you remember which is which, but make sure that any mnemonics you come up with are actually correct! The truth is that a really terrific proportion of cultural uses of these words are dead wrong. Songwriters are especially bad about this, because "lay" has a nicer sound than "lie", so grammar is ignored for the sake of aesthetics. See: Lay Down (Strawbs and at least like six other artists), Lay Lady Lay (Bob Dylan), Lay Down Sally (Eric Clapton), etc. All wrong; all well-known. It's no wonder no one knows how to use these verbs correctly.

[Winds]

@Dr Bwaa

Spoiler

Originally Posted by Dr Bwaa

Wait, she poured the dust on them, too? That sounds even less like a good idea than pouring random dust on strangers locked in temporal stasis usually does.

No, but it affected them anyway.

Originally Posted by Dr Bwaa

Haha, I like to think that he keeps a literal, physical catalog (besides the journal) of things that annoy him.

At some points, that may have been more information than the journal...

Originally Posted by Dr Bwaa

No idea where "there" is.

Randomly generated castle...no 'there' to speak of. Just another room, really.

Originally Posted by Dr Bwaa

Okay, so presumably they're now fighting the liches? Which they found because there was only one way to go, maybe? This could use some serious clarification.

Correct on all counts.

Originally Posted by Dr Bwaa

Yeah, I know. That was...poorly done.

Originally Posted by Dr Bwaa

I know, right?

As with everything else, it gets worse. Much worse.

Originally Posted by Dr Bwaa

Woah what? This seems like a Really Big Deal. Why is it not being a Really Big Deal?

It was part of the problem he had, mechanically: he was built for part casting, part mounted combat. He ended up as a meatshield. So, sort of a big deal?

Originally Posted by Dr Bwaa

Oooh. Good to hear. Nice snippet as usual; I'd still love to see more detail in these; more time spent on describing the exotic places they go. You've got a setup with ever-changing scenery and it's a shame to miss the opportunity to lay it all out.

Ask and ye shall receive.

I will post the next snippet soon.