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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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[ERROR] No.27298082 [DELETED]  [Reply] [Original] [4plebs] [archived.moe]

It's time for spontaneous writing again! Choose a picture, write a piece about it and post your own - or if you happen to have something saved up share that, everything is welcome! Skill nor length don't matter, all that matters is that you write. If you don't feel like writing, why not offer some critique instead? People always can use that.

Some useful advice collected here:

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Smoke billowed from his nose as he listened to the reports scream out from the radio. His drag burned down to a nub and started to scorch his lips, but he didn't mind it much. He didn't have much of a mind at the moment. Lines crisscrossed his scalp, leaving deep grooves and ruts that sat as a testament to his recent psychosurgery. “Memories,” he thought. Or was he saying it aloud? “Which memories did I have them cut out this time?” Small embers fell over his lap as his slack jaw let go of the last of the cig.

He was more than familiar with the surgeries by now. He had who knows how many over the years; even he isn't sure just how much he's had taken out. All he knew was that in his line of work, erasing memories was all that kept him in a dangerous semblance of sanity. Each time he went under a bit more of him disappeared into the aether. A little more of his soul got eaten away. Cutting away until there was just a patchwork of half-memories, each nebulously connected to the other and glossed over by a loose web of consciousness, more scar-tissue than mind. Maybe he used to be someone, but all that was left was an imitation of a man.

>> No.27299223

His hazy eyes wandered over to the radio. Words flew out and floated past him. Maybe tomorrow he'd care what it said. Right now he couldn't focus on much more than the round table in front of him and the... paper? A small wadded up sheet carelessly tossed away sat opposite him, waiting to be opened. Inside lay his own scrawls, distorted and illegible as if from drunkenness. 'She promised me love but all her womb grew were lies.'

A brief rush went through him as his eyes shifted over the words, but he was back to his blankness before he could process the thought. Once they might have conjured up a more profound response. Now it was just smoke that simply slipped in and out like the broadcasts playing. “LORD INVICTUS DEAD – LET US PRAY,” they screamed in awe and fear.

His eyes widened then and he dropped the paper. The faint flicker of life blazed in his eyes as connections started to heal and reform, though they were never like before. “Kel... that was my name,” he whispered to himself. Outside the blood red sun fell below the horizon, shining over the leviathan towers of Olympus Mons that rose from the rocky badlands, skeletal fingers that clutched at the sky for dear life.

>> No.27299352

"Bet you can't do this!"
Flip Reedweed was the greatest kobold explorer in this time and age solely through the simple fact that he had no impulse control whatsoever. His race, while not quite devoid of curiosity, had no concept of "intentionally seeking danger", which marked Flip as a madman and a danger to the nest. But he didn't mind, at least after the wounds from the pitchforks and rocks had healed. He was on the road and on his own for the first time in his life, with no elders to please nor master to grovel in front of. It was an exhilarating feeling, scary and joyous at the same time. Flip's scaly chest could hardly contain the beating of his tiny heart.

"Bet you can't do this!"
Those words had propelled him through all his life, and once again they would thrust him into an ill-conceived venture. He had met with some human adventurers on the road who had let him tag along, mainly for amusement. Sure they had knocked him senseless when they first saw him and kept him bound up, but after they realized that Flip wasn't dangerous they had adopted him as a party mascot. His understanding of human speech was patchy at best, but he was eager to please his new companions and the gestures of the amused druid didn't leave much to imagination when he sat proudly on the back of a monstrous thunderbird he had called from the skies.

So that was how Flip ended up hopping on the back of the roc after the druid had dismounted and was distracted, and that was how Flip ended up careening to the sky in a flurry of feathers and lightning while the humans looked aghast after him. And that was how Flip ended up discovering that he was the rocborn, or "Downkin" in their language.

>> No.27299414

I like this piece, the imagery you use is good but doesn't dip into purple prose. The idea of a protagonist who cannot remember his past is always easy to work with, because pretty much any plot twist is justifiable. Some of the words you use are bit unusual, like 'drag' and 'rut'. You might want to reconsider those. "She promised me love but all her womb grew were lies." - this gave me chills, cool!

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>> No.27300068

>This had been a good night for Andy - a free cat, free vodka, good hunting. Ever since turning into a vampire he had regretted it, but not anymore. Drinking that Russian's gangster's blood was the single best decision in his unlife he had made. He inhaled cigarette smoke and night air deeply. Whoever thought that being a monster should be grim?

>> No.27300148


It was going to be one of those nights again. Not working today, no school today, nobody particular to annoy me being all couped up in my apartment as I am at the moment. I couldn't help but be moved by some incomprehensible urge to do something! Much as I tried to ignore it the feeling was to much to bare, so grabbing my keys I decided to try this new bar I hadn't been to before up the road.

Funny thing about places as you imagine them, they're far more mundane than you tend to conjure in your mind but that was alright right now. I got lucky seeing as it was early and I suppose the usual crowd hadn't filed in so I took a seat at the bar. The bartender, being a somber looking fellow, waddled over to me and asked me what my poison of choice would be. I knew I had to keep it light so I went with the safe option of a Long Island and opted to nurse it for a while.

I figured I would be bored the entire time simply drinking by myself and pouring over facebook on my phone when another patron came up to the bar. I had to move aside as the seaweed he dragged in trailed water and added to the wet footprints he left from the door to the stool. He apologized but told him it was no big deal and wound up having a rather interesting conversation about the troubles of dating a Kraken.

All in all it wasn't to bad, I think I could get used to this place whenever I need me time.

>> No.27300238

Thanks, I know I wrote it up on my rpg skype group and got some tense problems worked out, but I'm still not sure how I feel about the piece. I think I'll put it aside a while then look back to it with a fresh mind, maybe expand on it.

Also, I'll post some art/pictures for the thread

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>feeling was to much to bare
too much to bear
>so grabbing my keys I decided to...
so I grabbed my keys and decided to...
>...up the road.
Take this out, it's unnecessary and slightly confusing.
>Funny thing about places as you imagine them..
This sentence needs to be rephrased, it's kinda awkward at the moment.
>I had to keep it light so I went with the safe option of a Long Island and opted to nurse it for a while.
Long Island Tea is made of four different hard liquors, it's the opposite of light.
>and pouring over facebook on my phone

Not bad for a first draft, I like how the protagonist deals with the weird characters very matter-of-factly.

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Thanks for the critique. And keeping it light by drinking the long Island was done purposefully.

>> No.27301225

It's dialogue. Caretaker and Pimp.

"Knock, knock."
"Who's there?"
"Caretaker. Now open up, kid."
"Ey, long time no see, how are you?"
"Alright, have you been smoking lately?"
"No, why?"
"It reeks of DMW and other ... stuff."
"Uh, my friends."
"Friends, uhuh."
"Go on, I'm listening."
"I had some friends over and we were amusing ourselves."
"Yeah, they left couple hours ago."
"Oh, really. Oh, my, what do we have here?"
"This is ... sperm, isn't it?"
"Couldn't be."
"And blood. A-ha! We got a jokster here!"
"Please, man, don't do this to me."
"Dealing with virgins again, eh, how young? Thirteen?"
"... around."
"And you keep them inside your apartment?"
"Fetch them."


>> No.27301287

Caretaker to Girls.

"Very well, girls, you're now in my custody and things are getting done very differently from now on. First, I hope you have more clothes than those tattered dresses, yes, good. Then, everyone is allowed exactly one personal affect, understood? Try and cheat me, I dare you. Alright, we'll be seeing us in ten minutes down in the lounge. Try to not draw too much attention, spread out and fall in line when I get out."
"Won't that draw attention?"
"No, everything that I have to do with doesn't exist around here. Now, get out."


>> No.27301324

Caretaker and Pimp, again.

"How in the nine pits of the frozen-over hell did you get twenty virgin, underage girls?"
"Did the mother of all cranes fly over and dump on your window sill? Dude, talk to me! You know that this kind of shit doesn't fly under my care! Registered prostitutes, yes, in moderate amounts, but a whole harem of girls! You are the worst pimp I know, man."
"The Amazons."
"What about them?"
"They have a population program going on and are singling out mothers from their own turf."
"Go on."
"You see, they single those mothers out and depose of the rest of the familiy."
"The dads go into jails all over the place, some get a ticket down. Some sign a contract of holding their tongue and can go about their lives. The children, if male ... hell, I don't know what they do with the boys but the girls reappear in the custody of pimps and the mafia. Now, the mafia doesn't question profit, but they do have a soft spot and care for the girls better than I can."
"What about the pimps?"
"Well, I try to lessen the pain, give them a choice, but feeding twenty mouths is hard."
"There are always deviants and ... you know, people with peculiar tastes out there and ... things happen."
"And now you're going to tell me that you only allow missionary with lights on and you watching."
"No, no! Not directly, but some girls have limits and I step in once a safe word is sounded."
"Looks like you've got a system, then, and stable profit, those girls looked well-fed."
"... those were mafia girls. I was only caring for them for about five days. The mafia, they're getting rid of their girls."
"Dude, it gets too hot for even the mafia and you just step in take some under your wing?"
"Yes, and do you want to know why?"
"Fire in your eyes and steel in your spine, this is getting personal, huh?"


>> No.27301341

"Yes, very. I was a father once."
"Yeah, spare me the sob story, I'm getting where you're coming from. My condolences and so on, now tell me why the mafia is cutting the girls loose."
"The Amazons are doing crack-down raids. Most of the girls can still be traced back to their custody and being used as prostitutes by the mafia is a carte blanche for the Amazons."
"Well, shit. And how many pimps accepted those girls in my turf?"
"I know of Yuri, Sam, Tomtom and Dust."
"Call them, the same rules. Decent clothing and only one personal affect. And they should call their contacts and so on. I want all the girls in the streets by tomorrow."
"In the streets? They will be raped!"
"How many homeless persons do you see when step out? Right, not a single one. I keep my turf clean. And don't worry, I know just the thing to do."
"Alright, then. Be seeing you?"
"Your ass is still deep in this shit, and you're not going to talk your way out of it. I'll send someone over."
"Someone? Oh god, no."
"He'll be paying you all a visit."
"Fifty lashes."
"Fifty? Not a fair trade, I'm afraid."
"This was a deed done out of compassion!"
"So? You're risking pretty much everything my predecessor has built, you are doing me grief, and I intend to collect on your misadventures."
"I won't die, will I?"
"Now don't get stressed out, I'm the Caretaker, I don't kill. I educate."

>> No.27301357

Huh, it goes on. Should I dump the rest?

>> No.27301367

>love to worldbuild
>suck at writing actual stories set in the worlds I make

>> No.27301491

Everyone sucks at writing when they begin, it's a skill that simply needs to be learned. Just write, get critique, rewrite, rinse and repeat. Pretty soon you'll notice that people start liking the stuff you put out (even though you still think it sucks. It's okay, that's a healthy attitude).

>> No.27301502

Well, story written in a dialogue format is always interesting to read, even though you're kinda channeling Frank Miller there...

>> No.27301578

Well, it's just the basic construct of a more dialogue-oriented passage. I like to do it first and then write around it.

Caretaker and Administrative Worker

"Total crackdown on our district, no one comes in, no one gets out. Everyone in transition is to be restrained, if they struggle, use necessary force. No deaths, no serious injuries, no bone fractures. Lock them in."
"In effect. May I ask why?"
"Biological warfare attack on a hospital of ours. Completely shut off the one in downtown, radiosilence. All the works."
"Yes, sir!"
"Good man. Outgoing signals are to be triangulated and restrained. Curfew is in effect, no one you don't know is to be allowed entrance into your apartments. Tell the patrols to scoop up any girls on the streets they come across."
"What about those girls? We are getting continoues requests by the Amazons for joint-operations to crackdown on local pimps. They say that 'a significant amount of their young, female population' has been abducted over the years."
"Have you accepted any of those requests."
"Not yet. We have forwarded those requests to administration for them to decide if the moves are necerssary. There's no registered influx of new prostitutes, the numbers are steady."
"You know what this is about? Politics. I couldn't stay out, you'd best look that you stay out."
"Yessir, godspeed, sir!"

>> No.27301623

Caretaker to Bedridden Former Caretaker

"You seem to be in a hurry."
"The Amazons are planning a coup, you do call it that?"
"If you'd enlighten me I could offer you my opinion."
"Basically, they've been providing us with underage prostitutes without administrative knowledge and are now coming back for them. In the meanwhile I'm sure that they'll blame us and say that we've abducted, and so on, balance of power, peace, all this stuff."
"And what have you done?"
"Quarantined our district, radiosilence and temporal detainment of all people going in and out."
"I'm sorry if I can't muster all my enthusiasm, but it doesn't surprise me too much. Those Amazons are a aggressive lot, their family politics are especially ... distinct. You should have planned for this kind of contingency, put a thighter leash on those pimps, planted agents among the Amazons, the works."
"I thought you had them under control."
"I stepped down as Caretaker,"
"And I'm doing double duty."
"And if the big dog doesn't bark now and then the puppies will do chaos. Now's your chance to show them that you're bigger and badder than the predecessor."
"Let me hear your ideas first."
"Let the Amazons make the first, violent move and then we stoke the flames of war?"
"Another one?"
"How about handing over those girls without too much fuss?"
"Too weak and only a temporal solution. Go for educational cruelty."
"I know. I could cart them down to Level 4, my hometurf. Offer them a new life."
"What kind of business would you run down there with them? Don't tell me prostitution, you'd just be shoving those girls from one hell into your hell. I know the things you have to do down there to keep them alive."
"And as hale and fresh as twenty year old's, yes, I know that I'm a good Caretaker. I hear it everytime I go down there."

>> No.27301663


"By the way, how are things in 4?"
"Peachy. Everyone's got work and wealth is on the rise. Education is doing it's best."
"You're lying to me, are you?"
"What can go wrong between a mining colony and a metropol that touches the barren sky and spans half the Level? I mean it, 4 is self-sufficient. I've cannibalized twelve gods to make it happen, I know all the ins and outs down there. I am God down there. Not a benevolent one, but someone that at leasts looks and does things from time to time."
"What kind of work would those girls do?"
"I'd send them straight to school. Cruel and educational."
"I ... cruel?"
"Corporal punishment, strict discipline, well, for them it will seem cruel."
"Corporal Punishment? You're using lashes on your students down there?"
"You're overreacting. Now, I'll send them down and deal with the Amazons, maybe even make a fool of them."
"Very well."
"All my graditude, be seeing you."
"I'll be waiting."

Well, that's it for this plotline. I should get around to working on the whole thing sometime soon.

>> No.27301776

>Well, it's just the basic construct of a more dialogue-oriented passage. I like to do it first and then write around it.
That's an interesting way to write! Do you mean by writing around that you insert the descriptions of people and places afterwards, or something else?

I like to write by simply forcing myself - I have an idea in my mind and then I simply put down the first thing that comes to my mind about it. Then, after the first draft I rewrite it to sound better. Otherwise I'd never get anything done, since I tend to get stuck on fiddling with details over and over again.

>> No.27301895

It's a thing in between, I think.

I tend to write differently depending on whay I'm writing about. Let's call it landscape-oriented and dialogue-oriented.

With the former I just write and come back later to trim the fat and rework
stuff. Landscape-oriented ranges from explanations to descriptions of various things, basically, passages with little to no dialogue.

Dialogue-oriented I first write down the dialogue and rework it until I like it. During writing I like to imagine how the character is speaking - body language, pitch of the voice, etc - and then add that to the basic construct. Like adding imagination to audio dramas or letting the Kopfkino (German, literally head cinema) roll like when reading a book.

I hope that was helpful.

>> No.27302041

I may have posted part of this before, but not together

I'm looking for some opinions on how successful I am in the rewrite process

so here's draft 1 : http://pastebin.com/k7qNTepT
and here's what I have of draft 2 : http://pastebin.com/nCBYShJT

I know draft 1 kind of sucks, so don't brow beat me for it.

>> No.27302059

Yeah, I think that hearing the character's voice and body language in your head is essential for writing good dialogue, or otherwise it will fall flat.

>> No.27302096

Well, do you think that the dialogue was acceptable?

>> No.27302101

I'm going to write a flash fiction about a math professor who tries to finish the work of his late colleague who committed suicide recently.

ingredients include
>a 12 dimensional infinite field with impossible properties
>a shady phantom urging him to do the work
>drunken breakthroughs he can't replicate
>mental breakdowns in the middle of class
>blood messages across the chalkboards
>spontaneous translation to an unknown Latin derivative
>the stars aligning


>> No.27302131

Lovecraft get back to the cemetery, don't make us glue the casket shut again

>> No.27302171

assuming I'm a competent writer (bold, I know)

Is it really that much of a problem if I want to take my own crack at a familiar formula?

>> No.27302178

Nope. Sounds good. Colgate good.

>> No.27302179

Nice, very nice. You've trimmed off fat and focused on what's important, the characters and their relationships. The story flows now much smoother when you've put the world-building to the background, and you've gotten rid of unnecessary 'edginess' too. I wouldn't mind reading what happens next - I'm kinda waiting for you to start the action with a big bang, because this story reads like a cyberpunk action piece.

>> No.27302206

In itself it's serviceable, but I'd really want it to have those small tags how the characters are acting - are they agitated, lying, etc.

>> No.27302244

my life has been hectic, but I have the rest kind of outlined. I'm basically going to switch acts 2 and 3 and write them better. So, a run from the police until he's cornered in the street and about to be gunned down where he gets saved by a group of painted rebels who take him to get the surgery. It'll get hammered out better as I make it.

I could probably have the next act done, if not the whole thing, by the next thread.

>> No.27302246

There's nothing wrong with writing a pastiche, stuff like that gets published all the time. However, you might want to think of the ways to subvert the tropes the genre has. Maybe the supernatural element isn't real at all, but the professor is just going plain crazy?

>> No.27302256

Noted. Many thanks.

>> No.27302285

That's a solid plot, go with it. It's a good idea to set deadlines for yourself so you get used to writing on a regular schedule (instead of just waiting for the inspiration to hit).

>> No.27302421

I'm thinking that the 'supernatural' will all be man made, conspiracy type stuff, coupled with the mathematician going slightly insane due to alcohol+stress+working outside his field (axiomatic group theory). So there would be a cult pressuring him to do the work, but for unknown reasons and his ultimate fate would be unknown.

Or should I subvert more?

>> No.27302598

Ultimately you're the one who decides what kind of story you want to write. The cult could very well believe in the supernatural even if it doesn't actually exist, that's entirely valid motivation for them.

>> No.27303277

They say war never changes. This is not true. War changes a lot. The first wars were near bloodless affairs, hunter-gathererers counting coup on each other over poaching, or shitting in someone else's drinking water- they lasted until the first serious injury, and then the losers packed up and left. It took agriculture and kings to make fights to the death, and an independent warrior class. Then gunpowder created, eventually, the citizen-soldier, who took up arms to defend his land and laid them down again when the war was past. In the end, war was handed over to computers, and flights of missiles and drone carriers coasting through the endless stars.
It's funny how things come full circle. It's also funny what your mind settles on during combat.

>> No.27303375

Please continue, this is a nice intro!

>> No.27303446

I fired the ankle thrusters again, eating up the ground in long, seemingly-weightless strides. Hit it a bit harder than I meant to, and popped up over the tops of the aluminum trees. I hadn't spent enough time in the simulator before hitting dirt, and I was having trouble adapting to the low gravity. It didn't matter that much, though. My enemy was fast, but light. Nothing it had could pop me in one shot. If it wanted to kill me, it would have to expose itself to my guns.
A second's psychic premonition was all the warning I had, but it was enough. I swayed to the side just in time for an hot-shot laser to streak past me. The laser tried to chase me down, but the enemies' laser could only sustain that kind of output for half a second before having to SCRAM and cool off for a full minute before it could fire again. And the intense thermal signature would reveal its position for a devastating- the trees had been lit on fire. So much for that plan.

>> No.27303650

I continued moving through the forest with quick bursts of the ankle jets, but my mind was elsewhere. The forest fire would pose no threat to my heavy field-enhanced ceramic plating, but it would obscure the enemy from almost all of my sensors. And the motion tracker and magnetometer were short-ranged. Radar would be obscured by the significant amounts of aluminum in the tree's cellular structures. I could try psychic detection, but that would require devoting most of my attention to the other, which would leave me wide open in the physical. While all of these disadvantages applied to the enemy too, I would bet my hazard multipliers that the enemy had seeded the entire area with high-gain seismometers- my every footfall would be a giveaway. And I had traded out deployable sensor packages of my own for drop-tanks.
Then, my IFF lit up with civilian firefighting hovers. Of course- the local administration was devoted to 'low-impact' settlement methods. They would hardly take well to a large fire- even if it had been set by one of their own. The disconnect between civilian and military command structures had been hampering the war effort since day one. I started jogging for the nearest edge of the fire, directed by the firefighters' completely unsecured internet chatter. Just wait for the firefighters to put out the fire, and my enemy would be denuded of both flame and tree cover.
Then missile launch warnings blared into my skull.

>> No.27303868

My blood chilled- recon drones hadn't shown that the enemy had missile pods. Did the enemy have resupply caches set up? Then I realized the bigger issue- the firefighting hovers lay directly between me and the missiles. They could hardly block my shots, but that wasn't the issue- even my fingertip lasers would blind pilots and autopilots alike with near misses, and edited footage of me blowing civilian craft out of the sky 'unprovoked' would be devastating on the propaganda front. And in a war like this, that was just as important as the actual battles.
I leapt into action- and into the sky. The missiles curved to follow me, blowing past the firefighters, which only just then realized the missiles were there. This didn't actually help my position any- now the hovers were serving as my backstop. That was okay. I wasn't planning on shooting the missiles anyway.I oriented myself, disengaged all the safeties, and lit the main thrusters, mounted on my shoulder blades. With the safeties off, they didn't so much 'ignite' as 'explode', slamming me into the ground and consuming half of my fuel in one gulp. The missiles couldn't hack the same turn, and either slammed into the ground or arced around for another pass, placing them squarely in my sights, with only the sky as backstop. Then I flipped back up onto my feet, and saw the enemy right in front of me.

>> No.27304067

I started piecing together how he got so close- he had probably- but then I shut it down and acted, pumping shells downrange at maximum ROF. I would have to replace the barrel, but I could tell this was the endgame, and it would be worth getting chewed out by the maintenance crew to be alive at the end of it. Impossibly, the enemy deflected all of my shots- each one fast enough to go suborbital in this low gravity- flicking them with telekinesis onto new trajectories. A flicker of warning from the thermals was all I got, and I dodged just in time to avoid getting roasted by another hotshot beam. Then- second impossibility!- the beam kept going. I lashed out with my own telekinesis, trying to nudge the weapon mount. The beam wavered, but its own psychic ability was enough to almost completely nullify the attempt. The hotshot cut into my left arm- the plates were cracked from my earlier lithobraking maneuver- and I lost almost the entire thing below the shoulder.
Then the overheated lens shattered, spraying ultraviolet-hot gain medium everywhere.

>> No.27304217

It staggered, and I brought the railgun up again and pumped half-a-dozen shots into it. It tried to deflect as it had done before, but my rounds chewed two of its legs out from under it and smashed apart its left shoulder gun mount before the railgun started to complain. I elected to let the battered thing rest, and drew my EMP maul from its holster. I charged forward on the ankle-jets, and while the enemy tried to deflect me as it had my railgun rounds, affecting a dumb slug and affecting a mech, with its hundreds of miles of synthetic neurons and its self-defence reflexes, were two very different things.
Then I crashed down onto it, and beat it- each blow unleashing a mini-aurora of electromagnetic disruption- until the pilot ejected.

>> No.27304249

Anyone have feedback for me? Thoughts, opinions, criticisms?

>> No.27304407

Let's see...

>> No.27304627

This was competently written mil-scifi. The action flowed nicely because you didn't bog down explaining how things worked, but focused on the protagonist's reasoning for his actions. Of course his (?) character was left very bareboned, but that's not important in a piece like this. I liked the mention of media warfare which gave it a more futuristic feeling than any mention of thrusters and missiles. If you intend to continue writing this (which you should do!) you should insert non-battlefield scenes where you can tell us more about the protagonist(s) and the nature of their conflict.

Good job!

>> No.27304895

Thanks for the feedback.

>> No.27305161

>> No.27305695


"Burn ocean?"

"W-what? No!"

"Burn castle?"

"Herthophant, chill out."

Herthophant and his rider soar in silence over the grand castle as other soldiers prepare their drakken for flight. Over the launch area, tapestries for the nobility thrash in the wind. Herthophant becomes mesmerized with their jagged motions.

"Burn tapestries?"

Alex scratches his chin. He did promise a signal for the invasion.

>> No.27305721


"Looks like we got a Mexican stand-off."

"The crab doesn't count."

The man sized crab raises its claws and snaps them in the air.

"Well I'm not gonna count her out."

>> No.27305740


"Sir, don't you think you are over-reacting?"


>> No.27305807

moaaaar inspiration!

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>> No.27306035


They said that it couldn't be done. They said that the very power of heaven was beyond the control of man and that trying to harness it was a worthless endeavor. And yet, Victor Coslow, a scientist run out of the university for his eccentric research, stood wearing the product of many years of struggle and toil, the Power suit.

The Micro-Dynamos hummed and bolts of lightning danced around his body. Even tired and hungry as he was he was filled with the boundless energy of success made all the more poignant in his mind seeing the halo of lightning that danced around his head.

They had laughed. They had ridiculed him. But they didn't know they had insulted a self-made god of nature! A good who would exact his holy vengeance upon those worthy fools!.

>> No.27306086

>> No.27306156

Shouldn't that be 'unworthy fools'?

>> No.27306229

>he was filled with the boundless energy of success

I really like this.

It's cool how you got a divine thing going on with your word choice but try to look for something aside from "dancing." It might just be me but that seems to be a go-to word for a lot of writers when they want to show beauty but I'm sure that you can find better ones.

>> No.27306260


I just saw that! Thanks for pointing it out.

>It's cool how you got a divine thing going on with your word choice but try to look for something aside from "dancing." It might just be me but that seems to be a go-to word for a lot of writers when they want to show beauty but I'm sure that you can find better ones.

I didn't even consider that, I'll make sure to keep that in mind

>> No.27306298

>> No.27306303

>A god who would exact his holy vengeance

Apart from that, it's very good indeed.

>> No.27306308

All that came to mind was "Prepare your anus."

>> No.27306331

>> No.27306354



>> No.27306387


"So is that the universe or water?"

"I think it's both."

>> No.27306400

>> No.27306430

>> No.27306446


The monster's presence had raised the compartment's temperature a fair deal. It's brass and iron body heaved bearing the weight of it's water tank, the sloshing water drowned out only by the exhaust of steam causing the whole room to sweat.

I took a moment to glance down at my pistol. Three shells left in the chamber and my belt uncomfortably light on spare bullets.

"It'll be an easy assignment!", I suddenly recalled, hearing Randall's annoying happy voice and that grating laugh that made his fat jiggle with the chain of his pocket watch, "I assure you John, what could be more dangerous than sitting guard for a rail car? We haven't even a word from those Deadly Vally Ruffians."

Hearing something and being willfully ignorant are two different things. The gunfight previous that left me in my state was, indeed, with the Deadly Vally, a local gang known for their vicious pursuit of money. After killing the majority of them the last managed with his dying breath to call this beast seemingly out of no where with the last order to mine my chest for gold with that adamant drill.

I swear Randall when I get back...

>> No.27306452

>> No.27306622


Water from the sky flows down my face, you can see it reflect the red neon signs of the city where the hair ends and the forehead begins.. Or rather, it absorbs the light with photons bouncing off of water molecules creating chambers of sapphire light. I think it works that way.

I caught a dove seconds ago. It looks around, trying to find escape. Is it afraid? Can an organic brain of its size feel fear or can it only comprehend the desire to be free. It has no expression to emote and we share no language to exchange thoughts.

A dead man lies at my feet. Red blood flows from a bullet wound where the forehead ends and the hair begins, mixing with the rain on his face and the concrete. If I shoot this dove in the head, its blood will also mix with the rain, but I will never bleed.

>> No.27306687

Alfred wore the armor. It didn't wear him.

He repeated this to himself as he concentrated on bringing the armor to full capacity. He felt the sheer power course through his body and his adrenaline start to pump, but he brought that under control.

He gave a soft whistle and as Penelope landed on his outstretched arm he diverted the coursing river of energy away from the snowy bird. He held it like that for five long minutes until he felt the control begin to slip as his mind began to fuzz and the voices begin to spill through into his mind.
He acknowledged the panic that washed through his mind and with a sharp cluck of his tongue Penelope fluttered back to her perch.

Then Alfred powered down the armor and put it carefully back onto its rack.

It was dangerous. He had killed a man in his desperation to stop him when he first used the armor. True he was a bad man who had done horrible things and would have gone to do more horrible things, but the look on his face when the electricity had coursed through his body was not one he would forget. He woke up to the smell of sizzling flesh and burnt hair sometimes, even a month after the accident.

He would wear the armor, it would not wear him.

>> No.27306720

>> No.27306797

That feel when its anons who do it...they don't even have much reason too. I only write to put some character in otherwise it would be quite dry.

>> No.27307966

Like the Phoenix with it's ember feathers, RISE AGAIN

>> No.27308440

Rise again oh great Phoenix!

>> No.27310505

>> No.27313872

>> No.27314008

Hey thanks for the pastebin. I am going to be on my back for 6 months and I wanted to work on my creative writing, this should help a bunch.

Do you have any other sage advice for some who's literally never written anything outside of Highschool?

I'm hoping to get a rough outline and eventually adapt it to graphic novel format, which that part I understand no one here will have any info on but I just need hep getting started on the first part, thanks.

have a neat picture

>> No.27314778

I banked, adjusted for the swing, and took another pass. The first few had been golden; nobody expected it when they heard rotors. They expected a SEAL team, and readied RPGs.
They didn't expect me to come zooming in NOE, trailing a 3-ton spiked ball on the cargo hook. They never expect it. No survivors, no tales. That's the secret of the CIA's new technique.

Unfortunately, these last two guys were smart. TOO smart. Rapid changes of direction, knowing I couldn't move the ball fast enough. Joke's on them; I still have a door gunner on each side.
Only problem is this damn dust...

>> No.27314822


>> No.27314847


>> No.27314953


Nice book-ending with the whole

>he wear armor, it doesn't wear him

You have some cool stuff going on with your description of when he turns on the armor but the stuff about him killing a dude carriers more weight with its imagery.

>> No.27314968


Could I get some feedback on this?

>> No.27315016


Write. Rewrite. Share. Write again. You cannot brace yourself enough for how crappy your writing is. If anyone tells you that your first draft is awesome, always dig as to why they specifically feel that way. Have very specific questions about characters, words, images, etc.

Since you are looking to adapt to graphic novel, don't stress too much because that's a whole different world from just wordswordswords.

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