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41137046 No.41137046 [Reply] [Original] [4plebs] [archived.moe]

Looks like it's Friday again - so /tg/'s weekly Storythread returns for another round of world-building and character-crafting practice.

As usual, the rules are simple - people post pictures, and write stories about other people's pictures.

Remember that writing takes time, so if you're writing something yourself or just waiting for other people to post, keep the thread bumped with pics. It also helps to give writers plenty to work with.

And if you're not writing anything yourself, you can always give feedback to other people's stories. Authors always appreciate feedback - even just acknowledging that someone has actually read their work gives a real boost.

And don't forget, we have a wiki page where you can find work from previous Storythreads:

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not expecting anyone to answer but i would like to see someone give this picture a shot.

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or this one.

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>> No.41139494

10/04/2021 - 03:45:36 - “zzzz-Hello? Control? I think the debris storm damaged communications. The readings say there are still outgoing signals, but I’m not getting anything inside. Lee Ann went out to see if she could repair the transmitter. I’ll try to keep you up to date, but the static is a little unbearable on this end. Signing off.”

10/04/2021 04:02:11 “Control, Lee Ann isn’t responding. I don’t know what happened, but there was another debris storm. The monitor’s didn’t notice a god damn thing. There are weird rocks stuck to the hull and I can’t reach her on the intercom. I’m going to put on a suit and try to get outside.”

10/04/2021 05:55:59 - “We have an emergency. The air hose was…I think it was torn? Or bit or-or something. Please, if there is another ship or station nearby we need help. There were claw marks and it looked ragged. I-…fuck. I think I saw something move.”

10/04/2021 09:14:42 -“There is something outside. It’s the same color as the rocks and I can’t get a lock. Any time I try to look out a window I swear it moves to the other side. The sensors aren’t picking anything up but it’s there.”

10/04/2021 15:27:32 - “Airlock Breach, Control! I have to disconnect the lower hull otherwise the ship will tear apart!”


>> No.41139514


10/04/2021 15:37:03 - “I’ve disconnected the lower hulls. I barely had time to get into my suit. Luckily I still had parts of it on. Most of the supplies were there. I heard the break happen. Something was pounding on the glass. Something is trying to break in.”

10/05/2021 01:20:30 - “I know it’s there. I know it. I see it out of the corner of my eye. It’s in here with me, I know it.”

10/05/2021 03:25:11 - “I’m not crazy. IT wants to kill me. It killed Lee Ann and it’s going to kill me.”

10/05/2021 12:12:50 - “*sobbing* Please….I don’t want to die…”

10/06/2021 22:34:05 - “I’m out of food and water here. It’s waiting for me to give up. I hear it walking around. I haven’t slept…”

10/07/2021 23:45:15 - “It’s getting closer. It hardly tries to hide, but it still won’t let me see it. It wants me to be afraid.”

10/07/2021 23:49:20 - “I’m afraid.”

10/08/2021 00:45:60 - “Please tell my family I’m sorry. I’m sorry I took the easy way out. I-OH M-“ *static*

End of Transcript.

>> No.41139518



>> No.41140012

Would I be banned/looked down upon for just filling out every request here, since the thread is dead? I need the practice and I like doing shit on /tg/

>> No.41140763

The only thing that's frowned on here is not posting anything.

Come on people, we need bumps.

>> No.41141191

The tale of the man who wore two pairs of pants. He killed anyone he could see so he could take their dungarees.

>> No.41141655
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All right. I'll go cook dinner and eat then return. In the meantime....bump.

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>> No.41143654
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I'll be reposting a story I did a while back with some changes, but that'll be in a little bit.

>> No.41144111
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Four Horsemen

Lt. Kendall Markham, age 24, loved his job. Getting paid to destroy shit and kill people? Best a fuck up like him could ask for in the military. Especially a fuck up like him.

Growing up in the slums, Kendall knew what it was like to be hungry. His mom died young, when he was 11, and his dad did his best working in the factories that produce the robotics used in everyday jobs, eventually those "synthetics" replaced dear old Pop and they went without a full meal each night for over a month.

Kendall had done his best in public school, but they just didn't have the funding to prepare the kids for a future anymore, the rich became richer while the scum became scummier. So when the call for soldiers went out, he signed up straight away, before he had even reached his senior year. He had already started smoking by then, something he had picked up from the gang members that seemed to pop up in his neighborhood from time to time. Smoking was a hard habit to break, and with the growing dissent against the government, the military hadn’t picky in whom they hired.

He didn't like working for the man, but if you asked Kendall, they were going to last a hell of a lot longer than these new rebels. The Rebs just wanted to make a point, but wouldn't step up and offer solutions to their problems, like the crippling rampancy of drugs in the worst parts of the city.

It was when he was a rookie, had just started his career as a soldier in the outer reaches of the massive “Economy-sized” cities/residences the government had been pushing onto the public for a couple years. Basically just giant towers built in the desert, the size of skyscrapers and could hold nearly the entirety of a city by just being large enough with less-than-desirable rooms and being tall as fuck.

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>> No.41144542


Don't worry, OP. I'll try to fill something out, no matter how shitty it might be.

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>> No.41144579

Kendall had been part of the security detail for one particular city’s governor, real snobbish prick, receding hairline, probably shit in the sack. He was the sort that fund the military and occasionally stopped by the training bases to ‘supervise’ their investment. Those sort saw soldiers as nothing more than pawns, not that Kendall disagreed with that sentiment, but he didn’t like to let his fellows know that.

This man, he had made a lot of enemies with the poorer sort in his designated level of the Econ-Cities. With his recent elevation of taxes, one of those enemies decided to take action. On a routine walk around the district before Kendall’s boss could leave for his fancy ass penthouse on the top floor, a woman, no older than 30 charged at the older man with a knife. Kendall popped her twice in the head with his rifle, and dropped her boyfriend who had been behind them the entire time with a gun. While the rest of his team had been standing stock still during that entire ordeal, Kendall had neutralized both targets and saved their employer. That same night, before clocking off for the night in his designated bunk, he was approached by a government sort, unassuming, but he had a dangerous aura about him. “Shady” as he was soon to be nicknamed, was looking for a soldier to fill in an empty slot in his squad of sorts. They handled messy situations and were completely separated from the military hierarchy. If Kendall was interested in the position, he’s move back to the city and be given a significant pay raise, but his life would be in danger, and he’d be doing some monsterous things to fulfill his job requirements. Kendall had leaped at the opportunity.

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>> No.41144821

This was once the jewel of man. Once our hope, and our salvation. Alas, it was too late. My grandmother told me stories, stories before Armageddon fell. She says this thing once held brave men, men who sailed to the stars to conquer them. But when Armageddon came, it would be no more. The winds killed most men, and the dust poisoned those that were left. She says I am lucky to be alive. I'm not sure that I can believe her now.

I check my watch. The long arm has struck seven. I must get back to the bunker lest I be swept by the winds.

(Sorry if this is a little boring. My writing juice today is mixed with piss, it seems.)

>> No.41144873

Taking a long drag of his cigarette, Kendall reflected upon the burning building in front of him. The food stored within was fueling the rebels, something his bosses would not allow to happen. Many people would starve because of this, but hey, it’s what Shady asked for. Food prices were going up anyway, famine was setting in the slums. It was all coming apart, Kendall would still just do his job, his team specifically ordered this time around to do whatever it took to destroy the rebels. He scrunched his nose at the smell that pervaded the place, smelled like burning dead guys, bleh.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Kendall noticed a man barging through a side door, singed but still able to run. With a sigh, he slung his rifle up into position and planted a bullet between his shoulder blades without so much as a second thought.

Pulling out his communicator, he punched in a string of numbers and held it to his ear, having to yell over the screams of the people inside.

"Famine here, how are you guys doing?"

War is doing fine."

War was by far Kendall's least favorite of his three comrades, a burly man from the Louisiana swamps. His voice marred by a thick Cajun accent, made him sound so unbelievably stupid. Not that Famine let him know, his malnourished frame would be a toothpick in the shaggy brunette's arm. War had possibly been a serial killer or torturer before he had started on the team if his unrivaled knowledge of pain and torture methods were anything to go by. War, real name McCarthy, was big, not just football player big, but large enough where if he tried hard enough, he could probably fit a baby’s head in his mouth. The fact was, a lot of people thought War was just big and dumb because of his bulk, the funny thing was, War’s impulsive behavior was due to his violent nature, he was fucking smart.

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>> No.41145144

Where Kendall was witty and street smart, McCarthy was actually smart. He knew machinery like the back of his hand, as well as an in depth understanding of human anatomy. War knew how to keep a prisoner awake and unable to pass out, which fingers to cut off, which teeth to pull. He was probably the scariest of the team if you’re just going off of first impressions.

Currently, War was stationed at the entrance to a known rebel base of operations, with a man's severed arm slung over his shoulder, an informant who hadn't been too helpful. Of course, War already knew the location of the base, he had known about it from when he had set out into the deeper reaches of the city, but the informant, Skeevers, had been there, and he was demanding more money for his info, well, McCarthy took exception to that. He’d find another informant, just as easily as he had found Skeevers, he just wanted to see the blood flow before he set to work.

Drawing a large knife, War prepared to storm the entrance, his purple shoulder patch and advanced rifle proclaiming his allegiance to the government.

"I'll be a while, so don't worry about me. War out."

"Pestilence here. Operation is already underway."

Pestilence, his real name was Sharif, nice enough guy, pretty smart all around, educated.. Kendall would have originally thought him to be a synth pilot or engineer with his unusually large specs and lanky frame.

Pesty was the son of some high end Italian geneticist, allowed him a full schooling unlike Kendall. He could have followed in his father's footsteps, gone to university and could have gotten a job in the tall towers that lined New York, stayed rich. But he got a military position instead, probably because of the benefits it offered him in his studies.

>> No.41145403

When people first meet Pesty, he's a pleasant enough guy, quiet and bookish, though he loves those old timey musical pieces, probably remind him of home. When the team had the occasional break and hit up the bars, the girls flocked to him, he looked and smelled like he was rich. Even while out in the field, unless he absolutely shouldn’t be smelled, he would wear this cologne his mother gifted him for his birthday, smells okay at best.

Before he joined the unit, Sharif had been studying toxins and poisons, bioweapons and such. As part of the deal for him joining the unit, he asked Shady to supply him with a facility and the funds to research and develop his “projects”. He was obsessed with erfecting the art of bioweaponry, and filling up his personal arsenal. When he wasn’t in the field or at the bars with Kendall or McCarthy, Sharif was holed up in his lab, delving into his studies.

In the field? Sharif's the cruelest of them all. While Kendall does the jobs as if they were a simple business transaction, and War is a sadist and possibly a psychopath. Pesty is a monster, he seems to change while he's using his "instruments" on his subjects. Pesty is deployed against the cowards or the situations where collateral isn't important, he unleashes gas inside buildings and locks the doors, he doses a target with a toxin that'll consume his esophagus within the hour. People die when he's deployed. Kendall asked him once, what it was like to subject someone to his poisons.

"It's funny to watch. To see someone slowly die in front of you? It's the equivalent of listening to a great symphony."

Yeah, Pestilence was messed up. But he got the job done, his current assignment was flushing out some rebels from a dilapidated building into the waiting maws of the "Hounds", synthetic walker drones that usually followed War around, but today they'd gone with the man dressed in white colors, much like that of a doctor, instead.

>> No.41145492

"Death has arrived."

Kendall tried his best to stifle a snicker at Death's accent. Ryotaro had always been so serious, his nickname fitting in their gravity. His accent was just too funny, a stereotype made flesh, how could anyone not laugh at that?

Ryotaro was the oldest of the Horsemen, a solid fifteen years older than Kendall, in his later thirties while the rest were early to mid twenties. A Japanese immigrant to the states, Ryotaro had been both a police officer and a soldier before signing on with the horsemen, had been there since the unit's formation. While Famines, Wars, and Pestilences died; for no one ever left the Horsemen if the military had anything to say about it, not that they would want to, Death still remained a constant presence in the squad.

While War was a maniac, and Pesty a stone cold killer, Kendall liked to think both he and Ryotaro saw the job as a profession, something to take pride in. At least, he used to think that, until the "Incident"

It was a simple job, the brass had said, bust up a drug ring that had planted itself in the lower wrungs of the city, they had been selling PCP's inbred cousin "Noctane". Pain receptors flipped off, hallucinations, Hell, it eventually started converting your flesh into the breeding grounds for the fungus that made up the drug. Basically, it was bad.

Ryotaro, unbeknowst to the squad, had a nephew that had moved to the city with him, lived in a shitty little apartment complex while Death had the base to call home. This mission has been a bit less than a year into Kendall's career as a soldier. Well, when the Horsemen had shown up to the den? Who else did they find than the nephew, strung out of his mind, screaming about insects everywhere, centipedes in his eyes and such. They were barely a foot into the door before Death's nephew barreled towards his uncle, screaming all the while.

>> No.41145528

The dragon flying overhead was one of the most amazing, incredible, and all these other words humanity has, sight of their lives. The issue was that this dragon was my mother.

“Wonder how much it’ll be worth on the market,” the first of my compatriots implicitly threaten the Drake who spawned me. She is a warrior, yes, but she is also weak and warm-blooded.
The second of the humans is a priestess of the Winter God. Despite wielding a hammer, she is even weaker than the barbarian! She is a shame to her warriors! “Sotha! How could you think of doing such a thing to this majestic creature?”
“What? I’m just curious…”
“We are wasting our time here!”

To think how far I had fallen, to find common cause with these humans!
I am a proud warrior of the Draconin! I was the mightiest of my brood! I am not a hired sword, and I am a tour guide even less! And yet that is all we are doing on this journey across the landmass! Our goal is to find the Eye of the Midsun to the Altar of the Aeons before the end of the warm season, and each minute we waste is a minute we could have spent covering further ground before all is lost! It infuriates me that these humans care so little about the doom of their civilization!

“Ghuresh…do your people have any knowledge about dragons?”
“It is of no importance.”
“Hey, scaly…is there any reason you are so defensive?”
“Indeed. It is most curious why you do not wish to converse with us. I find the myths and legends of your Draconin culture to be wonderful! ”
“That is because there is no reason for this conversation when we have not even found the Eye of the Midsun!”

This is worthless prattle! An insult to my mother’s pride! The barbarian Sotha who seeks battle would be crushed in an instant! The priestess Ansiel is weak for fawning over my mother; we Draconin see fawning as a weakness!
“D-do you really think I am…a nuisance?” Fake tears. They disgust me more than real ones!

>> No.41145543

The War during that time put a bullet into his brainpan before anyone could blink, the body hitting the floor with a wet "thump". That's when Kendall reckoned Ryotaro snapped, some part of him had disengaged himself from the job,never having to recognize what he was doing. With his nephew's murder before his eyes, that part came to terms with the profession. Kendall didn't know exactly, shit, he wasn't a psychometrist or whatever they're called, he had faked his psych exam back when he joined the corps so he didn't really care either way.

What followed was one of the worst bloodbaths in the twenty-odd yeat history of the squad. Ryotaro toook great pleasure in killing every living person in that building, a smile upon his face. When he put a knife through the jugular of a gang member, Kendall swore he chuckled. After that, Ryotaro rarely showed any emotion, never smiled, laughed, cried, nothing. And when they found War strung up by his bed sheets in his room despite always being terrible with knots, no one blamed Ryotaro.

Currently, Death was stationed outside of another drug nest, for whatever reason the brass had decided that it would be a good idea to stick him there. Famine reckoned that the most the police would find after Ryoataro was done there would the newly painted walls, the red paint still sticky.

"Death is engaging, entering radio silence."

Sometimes, Kendall wondered if what he did fora living was right by society's standards, he didn't honestly care, but those sort of questions popped up every once in a while while he was shooting someone, usually a woman. Would his father be proud, knowing he was killing people? Probably not, but this was his job and the only way out of being Famine was to eat a bullet, knife, poison, death in general was the only real way out.

>> No.41145570

Checking his clip, and deciding that it's be prudent to reload his rifle, Kendall continued his trek along the perimeter of the burning food store, casually picking off stragglers and looters. Death's scent lingered in the air, burning flesh, smoking meat,it was like a charnel house, if he wasn't used to the smell by now, then Kendall was shitty at his job.

The Horsemen had taken his old life, the street urchin, the hungry boy, and turned him into one of the most feared soldiers in the army. Famine was a name whispered when he entered the barracks, even his bosses were afraid of him in some regard, andKendall loved every second of it. He was one of the four best soldiers in current history, afraid of no one, daunted by neither death, war, famine, or disease.

He was a Horseman, and all should fear him.

>> No.41145679

This is great. Where did you learn to write like this?

>> No.41145816

Practice mostly, as well as a couple creative writing classes when I was younger. Thanks for the kind words though.

>> No.41145908

I haven't had the time and practice like you. You're really lucky, you know that? I've only written a few stories for these threads, and they pale in comparison to your story. My stories would be the gaunt, malnourished geek while yours would be the well-bodied athlete.

>> No.41146105

It's a gradual thing though, my posts started from a couple lines to a full post, to two, to four to the Four Horsemen at eight. I'm working on editing another story about that size if not a bit larger and I'll repost it later though I lack the image for it. It's a process though, man, I'm going back because I'm annoyed at how, due to writing quickly, the quality of some of my stories dropped significantly. We all start somewhere.

>> No.41146716

I agree with you. I guess my best story is Boarding Plan.

How in the hell are anons not contributing? bump

>> No.41146812

Writing takes effort and time, no distractions. It's a friday as well and I've noticed these threads tend to struggle on the friday bit and usually get more posters over the weekend.

>> No.41147073

Writing is different for everybody. Some can create fantastic stories for these pictures in under an hour, and for others it takes days. I've submitted a few stories before and they usually took me three or four days of writing for basically six or seven posts.

>> No.41147140

Eh. While there's not much posters, what do you say on a little contest? We both post a picture, and try to make a short story out of them. A third anon would gauge who beats who (Chronicler would be great for this). So, what's your decision?

>> No.41147150
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In his undeath, Harold had learned many things. 1. Fuck necromancers. He didn't remember the rest.

He doesn't actually remember his life before dying, nothing, nada, no sell. To him, the name "Harold Brimsley, long may he be missed by friends and family." engraved upon his tombstone was all but another name to be forgotten, but he liked the name “Harold” so he kept it. The man, no, boy who raised him was a rude little snot from the village near the graveyard, who had reanimated him via some withered old tome of necromancy which the youth had found deep in the woods.

The first thing Harold heard with his nonexistent, magic ears was the boy, no older than 17, his long nose, excess of badly groomed facial hair, and slouched stature making him out to be more like a rat than a man. His voice, nasally and whiny from puberty no doubt, telling the walking corpse that he was to follow all of his orders to the letter. The night was still young, more nearing her thirties than anything else. Sitting in the sky like a big, unblinking eye was the full moon. Rising from the upturned hole, Harold stared at what he assumed to be his grave, it was a nice grave, he decided. The headstone still clean where, as he looked around in wariness, others were overcome with vines, and he noticed some fresh flowers that were for the most part buried underneath the dirt. . All while the while, the boy was yelling at the walking dead-man, commanding his minion to go into town and scare some random person.

Rather than do that, Harold just punched him in the abnormally large nose and ran as fast as his barely clothed body could carry him. Running away from the lights of the town, he ran deeper into the nearby woods, the illumination eventually being engulfed in the dark of the woods.

>> No.41147181

After I've gotten through the next batch of editing maybe, I'd be up for it as long as there are simple rules such as restrictions on length and maybe a time limit.

>> No.41147234

Any particular stories? I can dig them up from 1d4chan.

Good to hear. I'm thinking at something between two to three posts, if that is good. Right now I'm trawling for interesting pictures.

>> No.41147445

My longest one that's in the wiki is Interrogation and that took me about three days. I did a longer one two weeks ago about wizard interviews and that took me about five days I think.

>> No.41147469

Eventually, he came upon a cottage, simple shack with a worn roof and walls, the windows still aglow with light. It looked like it had been there for quite some time, Harold noticed the moss growing over the wooden roof. Knocking on the wooden door three times, Harold lurched back when it swung open to reveal a wizened old man,

"Well it's about time you got here, come inside and make sure to not track dirt in." Surprised, Harold tried to express his thanks but found that the dark arts which gifted his skeleton new life couldn't be kind enough to grant him new vocal cords as well, so he remained silent.

"Can't speak eh? Good thing too, a voice coming out of your bony arse? Would scare me speechless!"
Laughing, the old man peered closer at the man made up of bones in front of him, especially a certain necklace that hung around Harold’s neck. It was a simple silver star, hung on a thread of the finest royal purple, marred with dirt. Walking back inside, he took a seat on an old rocking chair situated near a hearth, embers still hot and motioned towards another chair across from him. "Wish you could eat, there's some leftover stew here and look at you! You're nothing but skin and bones!" By the light of the fire, Harold could notice that the man was skin and bones himself, withered and lanky, only a bit shorter than the 6 ft 2’ skeleton. His hair was that gray silver that one comes to associate with age, tinted with the barest touches of gold, hinting at this man’s lost youth.

Laughing at his pun, the old man leaned towards Harold, a gleam in his eye. "Listen here, Mr. Skeleton, I don't know your name, I doubt you remember it anyways given how terribly my grandson recovered your body. As a sign of recompense for his behavior, how about I let you live here for a time? Long enough to maybe find a way so that you can live *heh* a new life."

>> No.41147483

>I did a longer one two weeks ago about wizard interviews
I loved that one.

>> No.41147522

"All I ask in return is that you do some manual labor on my behalf, fetching ingredients for my nightly stews, and that you don't run off scaring the townsfolk whenever you feel like it. In exchange, you get to stay with someone who won’t run screaming from you, that, and you get to listen to my wonderful stories! Nod if you say yes, if not, then leave, it is of no great importance to me."

Weighing his options, Harold pored over the facts. He was a skeleton, his new name was Harold, he had no home, no way to live his new found life, will probably be killed at some point by a wandering traveler with a hammer, and he had no other allies. Besides, at least now he would have human company that didn't mind him being undead. He also noticed that the man seemed desperate for the company, his eyes almost mad with a desire for anyone to keep him company. Harold nodded in acceptance, at that the old man’s mouth widened considerably from simple mirth to a full fledged grin, stood up, and bowed,

“My name is Kemros, and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The next day, the old man handed him a moss green journal and writing supplies, including a well worn black feather pen. "I know you can think, if not talk, so write down what you want to say and show me. It doesn't matter how bad your hand writing is, I've seen worse, trust me." And so the two of them began to converse with each other over meals and lulls in between work.

Harold quickly realized that the man he now worked for was not a normal old man with a terrible preference towards puns, with how he conjured up basic monk robes for Harold's broad shouldered body. There was also the fact that there was another two floors below his house as well as a very, very large closet that he wandered into one morning and didn't come out of until night had already hit its peak.

>> No.41147558

Thank you. My only regret with it is that I feel like I could have made the Time Wizard's explanation more convoluted.

>> No.41147611

Oh. I loved Interrogation.

It seems that my contest with Harold Anon will have to be postponed. Cousin got hit on the head at school. I'm going to pick him up. See you later anons!


>> No.41147654

Kemros had been a noble traveler before he settled down in his thirties, content with what he had accomplished with a group of like-minded individuals. Kemros had only been 19 years of age when he took up scouring the land of monsters and demons, and he was the smartest, strongest, and fastest of the four-man party, or so he told Harold one night during his routine drinking bouts. When he had finally supplanted the third to last king from power, Kemros had decided to settle in the town, and eventually the woods once his wife died and son moved on, and continue his study of the magical arts.

Kemros had been a noble traveler before he settled down in his thirties, content with what he had accomplished with a group of like-minded individuals. Kemros had only been 19 years of age when he took up scouring the land of monsters and demons, and he was the smartest, strongest, and fastest of the four-man party, or so he told Harold one night during his routine drinking bouts. When he had finally supplanted the third to last king from power, Kemros had decided to settle in the closest town, and eventually the woods once his wife died and sons moved on, and continue his study of the magical arts.

He had married a young ginger girl named Vivian. 'Best set of breasts upon any girl in the village' he once told silent Harold, winking at him and chuckling at the memory. They had two children together before they decided to stop. She had died only three years prior to Harold's reanimation, and Kemros deciding that the forest was more home to him than the village which always cast him cautious stares, as if he was going to kill them all where they stood. Sure, Kemros could, but that didn't mean he would. His son, the current mayor of that town, wasn’t helping matters, his mother’s passing raising some unsaid emotions to the surface between the two and helped cause the split.

>> No.41147767
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Time to ram Filipino mythology up in this bitch's ass!

>> No.41147794
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>> No.41147821

As time wore on, Harold would notice these sad little glances Kemros would shoot him whenever he thought the walking dead couldn't see him. These looks of pity, if not shame, but as quickly as they appeared, Kemros' eyes would grow cold and those looks would shatter like so much glass. He would often ask to borrow Harold’s necklace and disappearing for a spell every couple weeks and come back puffy eyed and drunk as all hell. One time, Harold stumbled upon a surprisingly sober Kemros sitting on the porch of his cottage after asking to borrow it, just rubbing his fingers over its grooves and etches, a distinct look of melancholy overcoming his usual jovial self.

One night, while the old sorcerer was drinking, Harold wrote down something in his journal, its pages filled with words and showed it to the man across the table. 'You mentioned you had another son. Tell me about them.' To this, the man's eyes hardened and he seemed to deflate, if only a little.

"I don't want to talk about my sons, they aren't here so don't bother asking about them." His curiosity piqued, Harold scrawled some more, asking him again about his two boys. Pointing to his words this time as if to increase their importance exponentially. "One lives in the village, his son is that little shit who raised you. The other I haven't seen since he was probably twenty five or so, he was the younger of the two, also my favorite. He was just so smart, a shining star who wanted to be like dear old dad." Kemros' eyes misted at that, lost in his memories, then looking distinctly uncomfortable as he tugged at his billowy shirt. "Let me show you something."

Standing up, Kemros lurched towards the cellar, his walk unsteady from the drink. The floor directly beneath the house was what Kemros liked to call the "History Room", filled with mementos of his past travels, as well as a beautiful set of royal purple robes hung upon a stand. Motioning towards them, the sorcerer began.

>> No.41147825
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>> No.41147869

“I-I don’t!” The barbarian Sotha disgracefully cowers before the priestess Ansiel’s weakness. “Ghuresh! You have to apologize! That was mean!”
Me? Apologize to an inferior? These humans have the most absurd customs! “What reason have I to apologize?”
As we argued, the priestess Ansiel could only repeat, “I do not want to be the nuisance!”
“Then fight as befits a warrior! That is your duty!”
“Okay, now you’re asking for it!” The barbarian Sotha began swinging that flimsy weapon. Against my scales, that would be a wasted effort. “I get that you don’t like talking, but seriously! She’s just trying to be nice!”
I savored the chance at combat! My pride demanded it! “I would prefer it!”
“Sotha! Ghuresh!” The weakling began begging. “Please! Why do we fight?”
“You ask why we fight, and I ask why you hesitate!” I began to bang my shield in anticipation. “My kin only serve the strong! So far, all I have seen is two doddering children, more adept at procrastinating than accomplishing their duties!” The barbarian Sotha had been interested. Even though her weapons had no chances at harming me, her bravery still amused me!

Quite obviously, my blade was more than a match. The barbarian Sotha’s attempts at injuring me were little more than stings before my scales, and her soft skin and warm blood made her weak to my attacks. To think these two were the ones to best me…an outrage!
I had the barbarian Sotha bleeding before me, breathing her last! At last, I had the chance to free myself of these two weaklings! Ah, and now, to finish you, priestess Ansiel! I can dispatch you swiftly before you ambush me again!
Her hammer was on the floor. She offered no resistance. I had my opportunity to avenge both my pride and my mother!
“Ghuresh, please…” A plea? Against me? “I know you do not mean to hurt us. Just…talk to us.”
“A warrior does not talk! A warrior fights!”
“But does a warrior hurt those he has befriended?”

>> No.41147975
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>> No.41148028

"Harold, you've been with me for over a year now, I trust you like I would my own son, these robes were given to me by the father of the current king, twenty years ago as a sign of friendship. You may not need them for protection, but I want you to *Urp* have that robe, also, I want you to bring me a blanket, I'm going to sleep down here tonight; stairs, my mortal enemy, we meet aagggaaiin..." And so the old man slept, hunched over his desk. Slipping the robes on, Harold found that he rather liked them, they fit well, and probably fit Kemros well in his youth.

As the winter of his second year approached upon the pair, Harold finally asked Kemros why he cared so much about the pendant, the old man had been taken to borrowing it for longer periods of time with winter’s approach, his elderly friend had also started going back to the village, trying to talk with his son again after two years of no contact. Apparently, if the drunken magical man had anything to say about it, things were finally starting to go well between them. At Harold’s question, though, Kemros’ eyes flared in both anger and fear.

“It’s none of your business! Just...your necklace, it reminds me of my son. And I thought, maybe if I bring along this reminder when I go talk with his brother, it would help things along.” The old man’s shoulders dropped as if the load he had been carrying for miles and miles finally just disappeared and he could relax. The moment was ruined by a sudden phlegmy cough from the old man, a startlingly more common occurrence with each trip into the winter snows The cough transcended into a furious fit of hacks and wheezes that left Kemros having to take a seat.

>> No.41148458

Harold hovered over his shoulder, trying hard not to break down in fear, he wasn’t used to death, ironic though it may be. Sure, he had gone hunting before, a pastime for both he and Kemros, usually because the old man wanted the meat for his stew, bones for weapons and utensils, and hide for clothing. But actual, sapient death? Harold had no knowledge of how to handle it, he had forgotten that Kemros was human sometimes, just a human. He scribbled into his notebook, which never seemed to run out of pages, asking if his friend was all right.

“No damn it, I ain’t dying yet, you idiot!” Kemros snapped at his skeleton companion. “It’d take more than a little cold to knock out this old timer! I’m only 65! Now don’t worry about me, but do you mind if I keep the medallion with me tonight?” His eyes were pleading, so Harold nodded in acceptance. He noticed that night, in Kemros’ bed, the old man was gripping that medallion like it was a lifeline pulling him back from the tides of death.

Despite the man’s assertions, he wasn’t getting better. With each trip out the door and back again, he was getting worse and worse, the coughing lasting longer and longer. Still he refused to see a healer!
He was getting delusional too, one night, after one bad fit and two bottles of spirits, he gripped Harold in a tight hug, crying about how he had made too many mistakes to not say goodbye to family. Harold cautiously returned it as if it was a viper ready to strike.

Eventually, it got to the point where Harold had to confine his friend to the bed in fear of his safety, he had nearly fallen down the cold stone stairs that lead to the history room after one bad coughing attack. The man had protested but was too weak to do anything about his confinement, or his health. As a youth in his adventuring days, he specialized in combat, not being a medical expert, his magic couldn’t save him.

>> No.41148743

During the very middle of winter, there was a knock at the door, to which a fleet of hacks and wheezes answered. Standing up from his vigil at Kemros’ bedside, Harold opened a door to find a man shorter in stature than both he and Kemros, who shared the same long nose as the boy who raised his body as well the same golden hair that Kemros boasted about when they first met. When the man saw Harold, he fell back, mouth agape, before locking onto the medallion around the skeleton’s throat. With a stuttering voice, he asked,

“Harold?” At the skeleton’s nod, “Do you know me?” Inviting him inside, Harold quickly scribbled into his book, ‘You’re Bismark, the other son, the mayor. Your son raised me from the dead.’ Glancing over the notebook, Bismark’s eyes grew watery with suffering as he shuffled forward and pulled the skeleton into a hug not unlike that of his father’s, pretty damn strong.

“Hey, Harold, can you leave me and my son alone for a couple minutes?” Kemros asked as he rose from his bed, clutching the cane which had become so necessary so quickly. “How about you rustle us up some food for dinner?” A little disgruntled, Harold left, only finding a single rabbit for that night’s stew. Bismark stayed for the meal, sharing laughs with his father, but would occasionally throw these sorrowful glances towards the skeleton. Before he left, he pulled the dead man into another hug before whispering into what would be his ear.

“You’re always welcome to come to my home, if you wish. Take care of Dad for me, alright?” With that, Bismark pulled his cloak tighter around himself and left towards the town. Behind him, Kemros’ voice called for his attention. Taking his place of duty alongside the bed, Harold leaned in to listen to the old man like a child around a campfire.

>> No.41149007

"Hey, skin-and-bones, guess we switched places. You're living, and I'm dead." To this, Harold shook his head fiercely and to that, Kemros laughed. His laugh, which had become such a part of him, was now strained and sickly. “Oh come now, my friend, you have to know how this end, with a body in the ground and skeleton above it, I wish to be buried here, and I wish you to bury me. The dead burying the dead, heh.” The skeleton again shook his head in refusal, scribbling out that he wouldn’t die. Kemros laughed at that, a true, hearty laugh, tinged with sadness.

"I'm going to die tonight, Harold, I know it, Bismark knew it, even you know it somewhere deep down. I can see right through you, boy. Probably pretty soon, I reckon, but I’ve lived a long, good life, died a bit young for my tastes, 65 ain’t the best, but when it’s your time, you roll with it.” Tears stained his eyes as he continued talking, “Could I ask you a favor, Harold?” A nod. “take care of this place when I’m gone, alright? I don’t want my grandson getting a hold of it, and I have a lot of valuables here I’d like to keep safe. That, and could you go out to that grave you crawled out from? Bring your journal too, and flip to the very last page when you get there. You’ll know why I kept leaving each and every day. Now please, could you do this for me?” Harold turned to leave, but not before he heard Kemros call out to him from his bedside, his voice finally clear after so long, and so truly, truly happy.

"Do me proud, son." Harold ran towards that graveyard as fast as he could.

>> No.41149054

Friends? What use does a warrior have for friends? What use has a warrior for restraints? “What use does a warrior have for that kind of childishness?”
“You say that, but…” You finally gathered the courage to stand. “You are trying to protect that dragon too, right?”
“How did you-“
“Because are not cold-hearted, Ghuresh.” What nonsense is this? “You may be cold-blooded, but your people…they care about honor, and to kill a friend over a simple disagreement would be dishonorable too if there was no reason.”
You…worthless priest! What sort of trick are you attempting? To preach peace with a raised hammer is hypocrisy! “Please…we mean you no harm. Just talk to me. I want to be your friend.”
“What is the point of friends?”
A resigned sigh. Does this mean you finally accept the battle? “If this is what you will listen to…” At last! Revenge!
I am Draconin born! The child of dragons! My wrath erupts mountains and rends armies to dust! My blades ring out with the wind and demolishes even the mightiest of beasts! Of all the races, we are unparallel-
Why is her hammer already at my head? How did she so easily evade my blows? “Yield, Ghuresh, Draconin warrior. You have been bested in battle.”
“Do you think this is to scare me?”
“No. Because you are my friend, I will not hurt you.” A…tap? “But you would not hurt me either. Not unless I offended you.”

Despite her nauseating insistence, I must concede this. Her weakness makes her unfit a mate, but it does not warrant her death.
“Are you willing to talk?” By right of victory, she has her wish.
“If I were to threaten your mother’s life…how would you react?”
A moment of silence passed before she finally spoke. All I could feel on my face was the cold metal of the priestess Ansiel’s hammer. “I…would be frightened, for both my mother and for myself,” she finally spoke. “I suppose I would also protect my mother too. But…why Sotha?”
“To let a threat go unanswered is to invite disaster.”

>> No.41149328

The graveyard was eerily quiet as night hung over head, but Harold couldn’t care less, searching the lake of headstones for the one not overgrown with weeds, until he finally found it. The name he borrowed still fresh in the stone with a star emblazoned upon it below the epitaph. It was the only grave that had been freshly tended, and marked with numerous different flowers, each one fresh as if it was springtime again. Pulling out his notebook from within the robes, Harold flew through each and every page, each one filled with words, affirmations, questions and symbols , until he finally reached the very last page. He sank to his knees as he looked upon the loopy handwriting of his friend and the ink splattered chicken scratch of a child.

Kemros Brimsley, Age 36
Harold Brimsley, Age 7

As if he could feel pain again, Harold fell back, scared of what he had realized. This wasn’t the body of Harold the Skeleton’s any longer, it was that of Kemros’ son, his friend’s son, how wrong it felt was indescribable. He carefully stood from his position upon the ground, noticing just how many flowers there were upon the grave, almost like a blanket. Quickly counting them, Harold held his hand up to his mouth, still unable to utter a sound as he counter 25 different flowers upon his grave. One for each trip outside Kemros had taken during the winter and how old Harold was when he himself had died.

When he got there, the embers had finally died, closing the curtains upon Kemros Brimsley’s life, the body cold already. Harold clutched his father’s body as close as he could while struggling to find a shovel, which just so happened to lie next to the door. And so the burial began.

>> No.41149438

She finally let go and…what is this notion? Why is she wrapping her arms around me? “I…apologize. I know Sotha is sometimes reckless, but she means well. And I…I just want to be useful to you as well.” This…confuses me. Does she apologize? “I know you do not understand my religion, but it does not mean that I do not try to understand yours. My god, she teaches tolerance, acceptance.”
“And you would accept me as well?”
“Of course I do. I trust you as much as I do her. The question is: do you?”

Seeing how the priestess Ansiel does not yield despite my threatening, it places me in a conundrum. Among my kin, I am expected to be merciless, to mete out retribution in complete certainty. But these humans, despite being less warlike, are capable of wisdom we have forsaken in our path to martial mastery. And to know these two still stand by my side despite my brutality makes me feel… weak for threatening her.
“I suppose I do trust you, priestess Ansiel.”
Another curious custom: she placed her fleshy lips upon my snout. For some reason, it feels warm. “Thank you, now let me – oh no! Sotha! Oh, forgive me, Sotha! I had forgotten all about you!”
Despite my force, the barbarian Sotha was still able to move. A remarkable skill. “Oh, don’t mind me, just slowly bleedin’ to death here…”
“Barbarian Sotha,” my announcement surprised both of them. “I must…apologize for my roughhousing.”
As she was lifted, the barbarian Sotha weakly raised her flail. “Ah, it’s nothing personal, scaly. Not like I insulted your mother or-“
“You did.”
“I did? Huh. I don’t remember doing so unless…”
“That dragon is…”
I realized too late what I led myself into. “That is…correct. That dragon is my mother.”
“Are you serious?” the humans have already charged towards me, eyes widened. “Your mother is a dragon? That raises so many questions! What is she like? Do you remember anything about hatching?”

>> No.41149555

“That is…” I pause, “a story for another time, friend Ansiel. Now quickly. The path my mother flew should be the quickest way out of this swamp.”
“Friend?” Friend Sotha was confused. “Hey, what did you two talk about? How did you change your title? Can ya make him do it for me?”
“There is no need, friend Sotha. But I would rather we leave soon.”
“Cool! Hey, didja hear that? We’re friends now!”

Their laughter amused me for once. Perhaps…not all diversions are worthless.


>> No.41149690

The ground was hard to break due to the densely packed snow freezing it, but Harold would not be denying his father a burial on his land. Hours later, a suitable grave, deep enough to protect his father’s dignity, was finally completed and with a heavy heart the corpse was slowly carried to the open maw of the soil. Setting it down, Harold pulled the medallion he had kept around his neck and put it around Kemros’. A final gift.

He marked the grave with a large stone, using a chisel and hammer, he carved out his father’s name upon it and marked it with another star and epitaph.

Kemros Brimsley
“May he bring the light of the stars wherever he may pass”

The next day, Bismark and his wife, Clarissa, stopped by the small cottage, the husband’s face worn and marked by tears. They both paid their respects and offered Harold a place to stay in town. The dead man said no, that he had a responsibility to his father to take care of his home. At his words, Bismark’s eyes again clouded with tears as the skeleton pulled him into a hug, brothers together once again.

A year had passed by the time Harold had found the kittens, little balls of fur left alone in the woods by an owner who did not desire them. On one of his mid morning walks through the crisp winter forests, his musings her interrupted by their mewling. They were trying desperately to find some warmth in the cold, while also looking for food. They were too weak to run away when Harold picked them up and carried them in his robes back to his cottage. A fire warmed them up right quick with some stew meat and soon he had three kittens laying besides the blaze, their stomachs full and filled with energy.

>> No.41149711

"Impact in five, four, three-"
The ringing, heart-stopping impacts-audible from INSIDE the bunker, by unassisted ears- drowned out the WATCH's voice as the devil machines did the impossible.

A single trooper-a baseline, we'll never know who- managed to track the first mech as it made landfall. A hundred tons of metal on legs hit the ground at supersonic speeds-

-and stuck the landing.

Before we could process what had happened it was in motion.

We watched, stunned, through our trooper's head camera as the mech opened fire. Bursts of tracers ripped through ferroconcrete and metal, sowing explosions wherever they touched, and then we realized what it had landed on.

The main artillery battery. About the only thing we had that could seriously challenge a group of the devil mechs.

The Command Group sprang back into action. We couldn't order a fire mission from our other bases- that would destroy what the devil hadn't. What we did have were the twenty or so Golems on site. We sent them all.

I've never really understood the Golems. For all they were of mortal flesh and mind-even if they were bred and modified for their task-they exhibited an almost machine-like lack of fear and obedience to orders. I found them unsettling, and found the people who worked with them willingly even more so.

At the moment, though, they were exactly what we needed. They obeyed without hesitation, nor true understanding of the death we had condemned them to.

As an afterthought, I independently ordered the trooper to observe, if he could do so without getting killed. I recognize independent action carries the risk of disrupting synchronicity within the Command Group, but at the time the Group was highly concentrated on the situation with the artillery battery, so I felt the risk was minimal.

>> No.41149717

The next morning, he found them quite enthralled with the tassels of his robes as well as the feather he still used in his writing. Looking at their lithe, playful forms, Harold didn’t know what to do other than keep them as his own. They were innocents in a world that could easily end them, so he would keep them until they could take care of themselves or they wished to stay. He named them though, the brown tabby was Demetrius, the gray one was Reagan, and the snow white one, Harold decided on Vivian, in honor of his mother.

As long as the cottage stood, Harold would stay to take care of his father’s estate, he would take care of his memories, he would take care of his brother and sister-in-law. And every once in a while, Harold would stare up into the sky and swear he could see his father staring down from the heavens, the stars making up his ever present grin and those two twinkling ones his mirthful eyes.

Holy shit, that was six pages in a google document, and quite possibly the longest creative writng piece I've ever written. Bravo me. Well, I'm much happier with it now than I was before the editing.

>> No.41149807

(Too late for me now-I'll look at this tomorrow.)

>> No.41149827
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>> No.41150088


"Don't you have any more reliable methods for inducing the effect in the test subject?"

"Well, as you know, in the beginning we experimented using intense pain as the trigger. Electro-shock, mainly. It was effective up to a point but it had several drawbacks. We would normally use electro-shocks as a means of conditioning a subject against doing something, so naturally it was counter-productive to use it to trigger responses we did want. The subject became even more resistant to activating her abilities, and in general became less co-operative with the researchers. So we were forced to increase the stimuli. Needless to say, this led to the second drawback - the deleterious effect of the constant electro-shocks on the subject's health. She grew physically weaker, which meant she needed greater stimuli to induce the effect, which in turn made her weaker still. An unfortunate and extremely inconvenient feedback loop. We had already been experimenting with alternating the method of pain delivery - switching out electro-shocks for chemically based methods, for example. But when you get right down to it pain is a sign of damage to the body, so there was a limit to the pain we could inflict without damaging the subject to the point of uselessness. She also deteriorated psychologically. We discontinued pain-stimulus inducements after her first suicide attempt - the limitations of the method were already becoming clear, so we took that as a sign that the time had come to step back and re-evaluate our methods."

"So you've stopped using pain entirely?"

"No, not entirely - our current method is effective but it's generally all or nothing - mostly we use it if we want to see a full activation. It can be used to induce a lower-level response, but it's less reliable so we sometimes revert to pain if we want to see early-stage activation. In fact, the chair she's in at the moment can deliver electro-shocks - would you like to see a demonstration?"

>> No.41150121


"If it's in keeping with your study program."

"Oh don't worry, she knows she's under examination today. Since we ended pain-focused inducements and entered our current phase of testing we've managed to develop a certain ... rapport with her. She's co-operative enough now that we're been able to involve her directly in the testing plan - it's a lot more convenient to have her actually trying to give us the response we're looking for, rather than resisting. She'll be more than happy to give you a demonstration of her abilities."

"She doesn't look particularly happy."

"Trust me - for her, this is happy."

"Very well then. Go ahead."

The two men in the observation room - the head researcher and the government liaison officer - looked through the glass at the girl, strapped naked to a chair in the centre of the testing room. Behind the girl were two junior researchers - a young man and a young woman - who were tending to monitoring equipment built into the far wall. Occasionally they looked over their shoulders at the girl, but she gave no sign of noticing them. She stared straight ahead, stoic and unresponsive. The head researcher pressed the intercom button.

"Prepare for testing of Subject Pyro." The two junior researchers hurriedly abandoned their tasks and headed towards the exit. The girl in the chair still gave no sign that she had heard.

"Pyro?" asked the Liaison Officer.

"Researcher humour. This is codenamed Project Revelation. PR, or pi-rho in Greek letters. Like I said, researcher humour. Anyway, we had to call her something."

"If you say so. The demonstration?"

"Right." The Head Researcher switched screens on his control tablet and tapped a button labelled 'Testing In Progress'. There was an audible click as the testing chamber door locked, and a red light in the observation room started blinking on and off.

"These safety precautions are all necessary?"

>> No.41150142


"Oh, very much so, even for low-level testing. Fortunately we've never had to deal with anything more than a few nasty burns, but that's because our researchers are very careful. The safety precautions are extremely necessary, given the potential danger - and, you'll be pleased to hear, this subject has a great deal of potential. Right, I suppose it's about time you saw it - delivering electro-shock in three... two... one."

The young girl in the testing chamber tensed. Then her whole body arched as she was gripped by powerful convulsion. She shuddered in the chair, straining at the straps. It only lasted a second, though - the shuddering stopped immediately after, but it was a moment or two more before her hands unclenched and her jaw loosened. She sank down a little in the chair, head bowed, dark hair falling over her face like a veil.

"That's it?" asked the Liaison Officer.

"Wait for it."

After about twenty seconds the girl looked up again. As her hair fell away from her face, the Liaison Officer couldn't suppress a slight intake of breath. The irises of the girl's eyes, previously an ordinary dark brown, now glowed a rich, burnt orange.

"Well, that's certainly interesting." commented the government official. The head researcher nodded, and said:

"I'm aware that a lot of people back in the capitol think we're out here chasing fantasies, but as you can see, the effect is quite real. The change in eye colour and the luminescence may be striking, however, but it isn't the most interesting part." He tapped his control tablet again and brought up another screen. "This screen shows the temperature in the room before and after."

"Five degrees warmer."

"Exactly. Five degrees isn't much, of course, but keep in mind this was only a lower level activation. Needless to say, the results of a full inducement are quite impressive. I take it you'd like to see that?"

"That's what I'm here for. Or rather, I'm here to assess how effective your methods are."

>> No.41150170


"I notice no one took any particular interest in my methods before. In fact I was given to believe that I would have carte-blanche to conduct the Project as I saw fit." The head researcher's tone was level, but there was a slight edge to it.

"Come on, doctor, I'm sure you can see why the issue would raise certain questions."

"I simply find it ironic that they were comfortable with the repeated electro-torture, but balk at my present strategy - which, by the way, is far more effective."

"If it is as effective as you say then there will be absolutely no problems. We are committed to results, above all else. And I am not here to pass judgement or even offer advice - I am simply here to observe, and report back to my superiors. *Our* superiors. They want to be sure that the criteria for selecting testing methods are purely scientific, and not - well, given what you've been doing here I'm sure your can extrapolate what suspicions they might have. I'm sorry if you feel like your abilities or your judgement are being called into question, but it's really unavoidable."

"If you say so. Well, whatever, I know you're going to do whatever you're here to do no matter what I say. I have worked in state-financed research for some time now, I know how this goes." The head researcher shrugged. "But you'll see that I really am getting some very promising results." He pressed the intercom button again. "Prepare Pyro for the next round of testing. No electro-shocks this time - we're going all out."

The door of the testing chamber clicked as it unlocked, then opened as the young male researcher who had left for the shock testing re-entered. He was carrying a pan of water and a cloth. He pulled over a trolley next to the chair where the girl remained, unresponsive - the glow in her eyes had now receded to a faint luminescence. He dipped the cloth in the water, then began to gently wash her down with it.

>> No.41150197


"Any particular reason for the bath?" asked the liaison officer. "Does the water improve conductivity, or something?"

"Ah, no, nothing like that. Like a normal human, Pyro sweats under pressure - and we put her under a lot of pressure, so it's as much a hygiene issue as anything. But we found that she enjoys being touched like this. She doesn't get much in the way of human contact. It puts her in a more receptive mood."

"What, like foreplay?"

"Exactly. We came to understand that she'd prefer a - hmm, how shall I put this? A less mechanical means of achieving the desired result. She's desperate for any affection, and given our current testing methods she now feels like it might actually be obtainable. Obviously that's out of the question - there can't be anyone in the room with her while she's actually undergoing testing, they'd be incinerated. But we've found that 'foreplay', as you call it - physical contact with an actual man before hand - can go some way to help put her in the right mood."

"As I said, it doesn't seem all that reliable. Waiting for the subject to be in the right 'mood' sounds rather hit and miss."

"It's not really that much of a problem - as you can see, my researchers know what they're doing." Through the window, the two men in the observation room watched as the junior researcher carefully ran the damp cloth over the girl's body. Gently, he wiped away a bead of sweat running down her small yet perfectly formed breast. Then he began to run his free hand through her hair, and as he did so reached down to clean between her thighs. She did not look at him, nor show any sign of noticing him, but whereas before her gaze had been fixed on some point straight ahead of her, now her eyes were slightly unfocused. From the way her chest rose and fell she appeared to be breathing slightly more heavily as well.

"Is it just my imagination, or are her eyes glowing again?" asked the Liaison Officer.

>> No.41150249


"No, you're right. It's not much of an effect, but it's there. And you know what the really interesting thing is? She isn't burning him. Of course, she isn't very hot at the moment - I doubt it's even half a degree warmer in there at the moment. But even with a minor activation it's unwise to make direct skin to skin contact. Yet as you can see, he's having no trouble - she's choosing not to burn him, possibly only on a subconscious level but it's groundbreaking all the same. This was the first evidence we found that she can control her ability, at least to a certain extent. Given the safety concerns we haven't taken it any further, as yet, but the next stage of testing will definitely be to advance the 'foreplay' a little and see whether this control goes any further. As I said, this new methodology has opened up a whole lot of new interesting possibilities."

"Fascinating. I know I said I'm not here to offer advice, but you can be sure that my superiors will want you go as far as possible in investigating this." said the Liaison Officer. Then he added "Whatever the safety concerns may be." The head researcher nodded.

"I'm as excited as anyone, but it's early days yet. No reason to rush things and risk making a mistake. Unless, of course, your visit is an indication that people in the capital are getting impatient?"

"No, no - you don't have to worry about that. I'm just here for fact-finding. You still have complete autonomy to conduct the testing as you see fit, without interference."


It was another minute or two before the Head Researcher pressed the intercom again. "Okay Sam, that's enough." The junior researcher stopped what he was doing and dropped the cloth in the pan. "Well Pyro, are you ready to show our guest what you can do?"

The girl raised her head slowly, and looked straight at the glass partition. She didn't seem to be particularly focused, though.

>> No.41150274


"Well, that's a definite 'yes'." said the head researcher. "You should feel flattered, we don't normally get anywhere near that much of a response from her."

"Are you sure the testing hasn't damaged her?" asked the government's man.

"Well, all the MRI scans say she's physically fine. Of course, the psychological issues are another matter, but there's no sign of outright mental illness like a schizo-affective disorder or something. She's just very withdrawn, which is understandable under the circumstances. Well, let's do this shall we?" Over the intercom, he said: "Clear the room for testing."

The junior researcher, Sam, left the room, taking the pan of water with him. The door closed and locked behind him. The Head researcher tapped his tablet, and once again the warning lights came on.

"Right. Here we go." The head researcher tapped at his tablet a few more times.

"How exactly are you delivering the, um - stimulus?"

"If you look at the chair you'll the seat is starting to change shape. It's custom made polymorphic plastic/silica that can reform to wide range of different shapes - very expensive, especially given that it had to be stand a high degree of heat, but very much worth it. It's been almost one hundred percent reliable in inducing full activation. Just about every aspect of her experience can be controlled from a tablet; vibration, insertion depth, etc, etc." The Liaison Officer looked down at the tablet at the head researcher's hand. The head researcher smiled. "Not this one - although I could if I wanted to. Details like that are what junior staff are for - Sam is doing this session; she seems to like it when she knows he's the one on the controls. No, I'm monitoring her vital signs and the room temperature. As you can see, " - he held out the tablet - " her heart rate is already up, and the temperature is fluctuating."

"Doesn't look like much is happening in there."

>> No.41150306


"Not yet. It always takes a few minutes for her to warm up, as it were. There's no exact way of telling how long it will take - the female body is a fickle thing. That's why we don't do this for low level testing, since it's very hard to predict the precise response. Just be patient, the seat hasn't even finished adjusting yet."

The seat, which had previously just been an ordinary flat surface, now had a bump rising between the girl's thighs, like the pommel of a saddle only quite large. Her crotch was pressed right up against it.

"Okay, the vibration should be starting now."

A low hum came over the intercom. There was no reaction from the girl at first, but her eyes began to glow. Steadily, they got brighter.

"Ah, now we're seeing something. Take a look - the temperature is up seven degrees already."

The girl's fists started to clench and unclench, and she squirmed slightly, wrists straining at the straps that bound her. Likewise, her toes curled and her ankles twisted in the straps that bound them. Her chest rose and fell, and she opened her mouth slightly - a faint glow was just visible somewhere in the back of her throat.

"As you can see, the chair - when used properly - is very effective at eliciting activation of her abilities. It takes a bit of skill, though - you can't see it from here but the chair is actually inside her at the moment. Hmm, in her anus, in fact. Apparently Sam hasn't gone for vaginal penetration today."

"She looks like she's enjoying it." replied the Liaison Officer, non-committally. The head researcher shrugged.

"Well, I suppose Sam has the most experience." He tapped a few more staccato beats on his tablet.

"You seem nervous." the government representative observed. "You are confident in your methods, aren't you." The glow from the testing chamber was now so bright that it cast shadows on his face.

>> No.41150701
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>> No.41150922


"I have every confidence, but with you here looking over my shoulder of course I'm nervous. I have a lot at stake here, and if there's one thing you learn in experimental research it's that there's always something that can go wrong, no matter how confident you are or how many times you've done it before." The head researcher wiped his brow, then drew the liaison officer's attention back to the testing chamber. "Look, she's actually starting to go along with it."

The girl was rocking herself back and forth in the chair, rubbing her crotch against the vibrating pommel. Her mouth was open, slack, and a strand of saliva was just visible escaping from the corner of her mouth. The fiery glow from within was now producing a visible heat haze as she breathed out.

"Is it just me, or is it getting warm in here." the liaison said.

"Hmm. That shouldn't really..." the head researcher brought up a new screen on his tablet, a image of the testing chamber from a thermal camera. "Hmm... we shouldn't be able to feel anything here, but it seems like she's actually concentrating the heat she's producing on one side of the room. Against the glass. That's new - she's never displayed that level of control before."

"Should we be worried?"

"No, no, this glass is rated to withstand far higher temperatures than this. We'll just experience a bit more heat ourselves than I'd intended. I doubt she realises she's doing it on a conscious level - but, ah, we impressed on her quite strongly beforehand the importance of making a good display for you today. It seems she took that to heart - she knows we're in the observation chamber, and she's concentrating on us. Apparently the effect is to concentrate her ability in our direction. Fascinating. Hmm... you might want to take your jacket off. It looks like she's giving it everything she's got. Oh, hang on - looks like this is it."

>> No.41150956


Steam was rising now, from the girl and every surface in the testing chamber. It partially obscured her, blotting out her lower half as she continued to grind against the pommel; her upper body remained fully visible though. It was clear that she was nearing climax.

Suddenly, she threw her head back. Her eyes went wide and her mouth opened, and from them a blast of intense heat issued, hot and bright as the sun, a furnace welling up from within. Her whole body started to shake, and a strand of molten plasma slipped over her lips and drooled down her chin. The incandescence flared, and she arched her back. Then, slowly, the brightness began to recede. The continuous shaking ceased, but she continued to twitch violently. Gradually the lights from her eyes and mouth began to dim. Every few moments another shudder ran through her body, but she was breathing more steadily now, frantic panting giving way to slow, heavy breaths. Her head lowered, and she wiped away a molten tear, which was running down her cheek like a lava flow, onto her upper arm. Then, she rested.

Throughout all of it, she had never made a sound. Not a word, nor even a cry.

In the observation room, the head researcher and the government liaison officer were pressed up against the back wall. As the light began to fade away they took their arms away from in front of their faces. Both looked as if they had just spent a week under equatorial sun; their red, sunburnt faces almost glowing themselves.

"Well," said the head researcher. "As you can see, there is *nothing" more effective at inducing activation than orgasm. I don't think she's ever had an episode that intense before."

"Holy shit..." the liaison officer paused a moment to catch his breath. He blinked a couple of times, after-images dancing across his vision. "Holy shit, she could melt a tank with that."

"Well, quite. I trust you can see why I got backing for this project in the first place."

>> No.41151001


The Liaison Officer seemed to pull himself together. "Indeed. Indeed." Then he added. "Although I think that your methods for activating her abilities might not be entirely practical under battlefield conditions."

"I don't know. Vibrators would hardly be the strangest things our troops have been issued with. You'd be amazed the things I've seen after twenty years in experimental weapons programs." The head researcher stopped himself, and likewise visibly took a moment to collect himself. "Anyway, deploying her on a battlefield isn't the end goal. Even if she were fit for service - which she most certainly isn't - a single asset like her, powerful or not, is of limited use. We want to learn enough about her ability to replicate and control it - and from every test that we perform we learn a little more about what she can do, and gather crucial data. Take this session itself - we've never before seen her display such a degree of control in directing her ability. It's a major breakthrough."

"Yes, a major breakthrough that I was here to witness. No doubt you're happy about that."

"Wouldn't you be? Of course I'm happy that our little tête-à-tête went well - but I'm even happier about the data we collected today. Surely you can see that we're doing vital research here."

"Yes, yes - you've made your point very effectively, doctor. 'Pyro' is everything you've promised and more - and your methods are validated. I'll make my report, and although I can't speak for my superiors I think we both know that they are likely to be very enthusiastic about this."

"Good. All I ask is that I be allowed to do my job."

The two men stared through the glass, where the girl was just visible through the haze of steam, hanging limply in the chair.

"Can we go in and see her?" asked the liaison officer.

>> No.41151049


"I wouldn't advise it." replied the head researcher. "Environmental controls are working to bring the room temperature down, but it'll be a while before anyone can go in there without spontaneously combusting." The liaison officer peered into the testing room, trying to get a better look at her. "And I would also advise against getting too close to the glass," added the head researcher, causing the government man to step back. "We can visit her in her cell later, if you want."

"She'll be safe then? On second thoughts, I'm not sure I want to be in the same room as her after seeing that."

"She can't activate her ability at will - it only happens involuntarily, in response to strong physical stimuli. Pain, or as we now know, pleasure. It's only a pity that we didn't try sexual stimuli sooner. But without the stimulus she's totally inert, so there'd be no danger at all. I wouldn't bother going to see her though - outside of the testing chamber she's not actually all that interesting. She's so docile she's barely more than furniture. Come on, I'll get you some coffee. I assume you'll be flying back to the capital in the morning?"

The two men left the observation room, and as they walked down the corridor another man - the junior researcher, Sam - came out of a room a little way down the corridor.

"Ah, Sam - just the man I wanted to see." said the head researcher happily. "Congratulations are in order, I think. That was a very effective test run - excellent use of the chair."

Sam nodded, and said: "I'll need to check the chair later. The polymorphic covering should be okay, it's rated to handle more heat than that, but I'm worried she might have been hot enough to cook some of the internals. It seemed a bit sluggish when I put it back into inactive mode."

"Details. You can talk to me about it later. Have you met our guest?"

The liaison officer held out his hand, and Sam shook it.


>> No.41151100


Don't squeeze too tightly, thought Sam as he shook the government man's hand. Just be polite and try not to look look disgusted.

"Yes, Sam's been very good at drawing out useful behaviour in the subject..."

The subject. She's just a piece of meat to you, isn't she?

"And his work on the theoretical side has been exemplary as well..."

His boss was singing his praises. Showing him off to the government's lackey. Sam kept his face a mask. His boss was smiling at him. That's right, you bastard, keep smiling. you don't know I'm almost through the last firewall, Sam thought. By this time next week the facility's whole security system would be under his control.

Out loud, Sam said. "Really, sir, you're too kind." Somehow, he managed to smile back, and said to the liaison: "Everyone working here has been working their hardest to bring this project to its full potential - especially our commander-in-chief." Sam's smile was now so wide it was almost painful. "I sure hope you're going to give a good report to the folks upstairs - they need to know just how much the boss has accomplished here."

Said boss was practically blushing now. Although that could just have been the burn. She really toasted him, the little firebug. Good for her.

"Well, Sam, that's very... very... accurate of you." He laughed disarmingly; his little joke. "Well, carry on then, Sam. Keep up the good work" He turned to the government man. "Have you seen our cafeteria? It's right this way..."

Sam watched as his boss and the government man walked off down the corridor, with a stare that bored into their backs with almost the intensity of the girl sitting in the testing chamber. When the government man had arrived this morning the boss had barely been able to stand in the same room as him. Now it looked like he was perfectly at ease in the man's presence.

>> No.41151172


Well, you won't be so happy to see him when he next comes, thought Sam. Because the next time he's here, it'll be to ask you how you managed to lose the world's only thermadyne.

Soon. Just a few finishing touches and he'd be able to get her out of here. He hadn't gotten into science to torture little girls. He wanted out, and he was taking her with him.

That second part was the tricky bit, of course.

She was relying on him, though. She was in love with him. He wasn't sure how he felt about her - how he'd cope with someone who could burn him to a cinder in an instant. But one thing he was sure of: he wasn't leaving her here, with people like them. And she didn't just want to be free, she wanted to be with him. It'd destroy her if he left without her.

She never spoke, never so much as whispered, but she had other ways of communicating. When they were alone, she'd cling to him and refuse to let go until he'd stroked her hair. He'd talk to her, when the cameras were off, and with a touch or a look she'd use his words to respond, confirming or denying what he'd just said.

She'd tell him how much she loved him. Tell him how badly she'd wanted to die before she'd met him. And he'd cuddle her and comfort her. Quietly, too low to be heard even though he was sure the cameras were off, he'd whispered to her of his escape plan. She'd looked up at him then, and the look on her face was one of the most beautiful and saddest he'd ever seen. Hope can be like that.

She was ready. She was relying on him.

They'd agreed that when she was out, they would find a name for her. A real name, not that stupid nickname the scientists had given her, pi-rho. Pyro. Maybe he could even find a way to find out what her birth name had been.

No - don't think about after. He still had to get her out of here. That was the part he should be worrying about.

Soon. He was almost there. Just a few more days...


>> No.41151212

Sorry if
wasn't exactly what you were hoping for.

I just looked at >>41138383 and the words 'I'm coming' immediately sprang to mind. Yeah, I know, I'm sick like that.

Hope someone out there will find the story interesting, though.

>> No.41151269

Joe knew the boss was pissed. Even though he only knew a bit of Cthonian, it didn't take one bit to understand that the boss was rightfully, truly pissed. The summoning ritual was printed wrong it seems. Joe paced a step back when the giant, non-Euclidean creature unfurled its tentacles as if to eat him. Thankfully the beast started to slow its breathing and started to calm down. John didn't know whether to panic, scream then panic, or stand still. Finally, the boss took out a quill pen and started to write something on the back of the paper. When he was done, he gave it to Joe. It said:

"You stupid fucking yankee, now how the fuck is Ryleh going to get back up?"

>> No.41151320
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>> No.41152424
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No need to apologize, ive got to admit, i wasnt expecting that, specially since i read
>>41150956 first since i missed the previous ones due to my sleepiness, but i really enjoyed your take on the story these pictures tell, way different than what i expected. kudos Anon, this was an interesting reading.

>> No.41152668

Now, I'm the King of the Swinger's Ball.
Undead V.I.P.
Well, I reached the top and had to stop,
And that's what's bothering me.
A wannabe a man, now man cub, stroll right into town.
And be just like the other men,
I'm tired of rattling around.
So, oooh-oooh-oooh.
I wanna be just like you.
I wanna walk like you,
Talk like you do.
You see, it's true,
Bones like me
Can learn to be human, too.
Now, don't you mess with me, man cub,
I made a deal with you.
For what I strive is man's life ,
So I can be just like you.
Now, don't you mess with me, man cub,
Tell me what to do.
Give me the power of the lively flower,
So I can be just like you.
So, ooh-ooh-ooh.
I wanna be just like you.
I wanna walk like you,
Talk like you do.
You see, it's true,
Bones like me
Can learn to be human, too.
Yes, and ooh.
I wanna be just like you.
I wanna walk like you,
Talk like you do.
You see, it's true,
Bones like me
Can learn to be human, too.

>> No.41152751

made me smile hard

>> No.41153266

Holy shit. No doubt about it, 10/10.

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>> No.41157065


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>> No.41167583 [DELETED] 

The Tri-Fair Crossing is perhaps the largest market ever in the known world, and it is for fair reason: It lay within the reach of both the bountiful harvests and wares of the northward merchants and their metropolitan styles often catch on with other merchants. From the south, there are often many explorers, looking for both partners and suckers with whom they wish to share the fruits of their expeditions towards the World's Scar Mountains. And the East brings with it many warriors and pathfinders, hardened by both brigands and the unforgiving realm of the Sand-Mistress and eager to sell their services for the highest coin.
But these major shows are not always the most standout of the displays. Those who are more seasoned learn more of the smaller wares, the strange one-of-a-kind shops and stalls you can only find in a melting pot like this.

You too have learned of one of these unique stops one day when you wandered throughout the mall. Lost, you accidentally take a right when you should have taken a left and find yourself in a little shaded corner. Occupying that space with you is a child, long, dark hair, no older than maybe twelve – though for the life of you, you can never seem to tell if this is a boy or a girl. The dress is clearly meant for a girl, but the way it fits on this kid looks strange for a girl.
In this child’s hand is a deck of cards. Typical fare, you remember buying a deck from this market before. The kid lays out a small hand out of the table. It dawned on you – this was a street performer! You loved these little games!
Well, the kid shuffles the hand like a pro. You’re impressed by how deftly the cards glide across their fingers before offering the hand under your nose. You decide to humor the kid by taking the top card from the hand. Not a moment passes when the kid asks for it back. Startled, you extend the card out and it’s gone before you know it.

>> No.41167938

The Tri-Fair Crossing is perhaps the largest market ever in the known world, and it is for fair reason: It lay within the reach of both the bountiful harvests and wares of the northward merchants and their metropolitan styles often catch on with other merchants. From the south, there are often many explorers, looking for both partners and suckers with whom they wish to share the fruits of their expeditions towards the World's Scar Mountains. And the East brings with it many warriors and pathfinders, hardened by both brigands and the unforgiving realm of the Sand-Mistress and eager to sell their services for the highest coin.
But these major shows are not always the most standout of the displays. Those who are more seasoned learn more of the smaller wares, the strange one-of-a-kind shops and stalls you can only find in a melting pot like this.

You too have learned of one of these unique stops one day when you wandered throughout the mall. Lost, you accidentally take a right when you should have taken a left and find yourself in a little shaded corner. Occupying that space with you is a child, long, dark hair, no older than maybe twelve – though for the life of you, you can never seem to tell if this is a boy or a girl. The dress is clearly meant for a girl, but the way it fits on this kid looks strange for a girl.
In this child’s hand is a deck of cards. Typical fare, you remember buying a deck from this market before. The kid lays out a small hand out of the floor. It dawned on you – this was a street performer! You loved these little games!
Well, the kid shuffles the hand like a pro. You’re impressed by how deftly the cards glide across their fingers before offering the hand under your nose. You decide to humor the kid by taking the top card from the hand. Not a moment passes when the kid asks for it back. Startled, you extend the card out and it’s gone before you know it.

>> No.41169195

Your attention is then drawn to the hand of cards that were on the floor. A hand goes over them, displaying the choices available. You hesitate and ask. The dealer only asks in that vague voice:
> “Please, pick the one your heart desires most.”
You hesitantly point to the card that you seem to think is a king. The dealer points at it and you accept. A tambourine is picked up from the satchel beside you and is banged a few times, as if to inspire something. Your thoughts instantly start guessing your entertainer as a gypsy.

>”Your card…despite looking like an ideal match, there are some things in life that do not really fit the way they are supposed to. Please remember that.”

You smirk. Fortunetelling from a deck of playing cards? This was unusual!
The cards are picked up from the floor and another small hand is scattered out. This time, you pick one that looks like a ten of…diamonds, you remind yourself. The card is turned to its side and is drawn back. You are then motioned to choose another card. You notice a familiar card over to the right: an ace of hearts. You seem to remember a heart, but was it an ace…?
You decide not to waste any more time and decide on that card. The dealer smiles. Hopefully, you think, they weren’t laughing at you.

>”Your memory is not…quite what you think it is. While you are willing to change yourself to better suit your match, do beware that you cannot change who you are. The person you are destined to be with, they know who you are and wholly accept it.”

Shock shoots your eyes wide open. The fortune was sounding better!
Another shuffling, another hand laid out, this time face-down. That said, however…the concept intrigues you. Curious, you pause the proceedings.

>”Before I choose this hand, I have to ask… Who are you?”
>”I am but a humble matchmaker.”
>”But…why do you do this? Do you have your own match?”
A snicker.
>”Choose your card. Perhaps I might.”

>> No.41170418

pretty good. Is there more?

>> No.41170438

That sounded rather…curious. Your heart insists you go right, but you feel as though a heavy presence is there as well. Instinctively, that left you with three cards. Out of them, you only felt something calming about the one in the middle.
You pick it. The matchmaker peers from underneath, but…why does their face look despondent?
Before you could ask, a fake smile is already plastered on.

>”You have left home long ago to eke out a living here, yes?”
You nod.
>”There is someone back there. Someone who thought about you dearly. They too tried to change who they were, but lost their way. Perhaps by reminding them, they might remember.”

That seemed to be it. The fortuneteller you were with collected all of the cards and set them aside while bowing to thank you. But you were smarter than that, or perhaps, too curious to leave well enough alone.

>”When I picked that last card, you looked like you were about to cry. Were you…expecting me to have chosen you?”
>”Why do you ask?”
>”Because I think there is something more to your matchmaking than just interest. You’re looking for someone, right?”

A resigned chuckle erupted from the child, then escalating to full-blown laughter. Within seconds, everything in the marketplace ground to a halt to eye on the two of you cramped in this corner, with a kid laughing.

>”Oh, oh…I apologize.”
You pause. You were right?
>”Have you…ever had a time where all of your friends had this really nice-looking toy and they got to have it all to themselves, and you try and try to get one yourself, but you never could for one reason or another?”
You nod in agreement. You weren’t too familiar with the feeling, but you could definitely understand how one would feel envy in that case.

>> No.41170996

>”You see, when I first found out about my sister’s relationship, I had felt incredibly happy for her because I was useful. But then…more people came and asked. More of my brothers and sisters, all asking for help with their own relationships with their people. And then people came begging me for romance and then…I just ran away. ”

The thought of being relied upon too much weighed heavily on you. In a way, you wanted to sympathize with the kid. They don’t deserve to be hounded upon by family. And yet…
>”Then…why could you not just read your own fortune?”
>”You know, if I could, I would have done so the moment I learned that I could. But…the problem is that it requires me to want. And I…I am unable of feeling want.”
It struck you that the kid is crying. You immediately wrap yourself around your new friend and keep them a little more company.
>”I am strange like that. My brothers and sisters, they all can feel the happiness of wanting and being wanted, but when I think about my desire…I see nothing. Just blackness and cold and emptiness.”
Whatever it is, you feel that being here might make the kid feel better.
>”It…can’t be all that bad. I mean, even if you can’t want doesn’t mean you can’t still spend time doing something you like!”
>”I…liked doing this. Once. Before people begged me.”
>”So is that why you’re hiding here?”
One nod.

Your stomach growls. Luckily, you had some pastries on hand from a bakery in the area. You offer some to your curious confidant, and they accept.
>“I guess a break’s just the thing you need then. Just a break to let you appreciate maybe that you’re lucky for being able to help out so many people find the person they were destined to be with. I mean, if it were me, I know that someday, I’d go crazy just looking for someone too!”
While you appreciated the kid’s laughter, it still kind of hurt. You were being serious, after all!

>”I appreciate your gesture. It has been a long time since…someone came to just talk to me.”

>> No.41172257
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>> No.41172403


"My fellow Americans, and to all citizens of the earth united in our dream of exploration, I've just been informed that the Andromeda IV mission, five days into its journey, has met with disaster."

The official story was that, as the crew attempted to initiate the experimental inertial dampeners to prepare for faster-than-light travel, a fuel line had ruptured and exposed the crew to hard vacuum in an instant. There were no survivors. Families would mourn, UNASA would rebuild, Earth would send out another ship to test the depths of space.

"Two centuries ago, a man called William Safire wrote an alternate speech for President Nixon, had Apollo 11 met with failure. I would like to share some of those words with you today, so we may all take comfort."

Currently being analysed by scientists and politicians and military officials in the darkest of corners, however, another tale played itself out on crisp security footage. Being removed from any computer with network access to prevent leaks onto the internet, the ship's camera feed was filled with details many wished were in the grainy format of older video footage.

>> No.41172418


"In ancient days, men looked at stars and saw their heroes in the constellations. In modern times, we do much the same, but our heroes are epic men of flesh and blood. Others will follow, and surely find their way home. Man’s search will not be denied."

The spray of arterial blood splatting against the far wall as the lead scientist's throat was sliced just off camera, her gurgles quieting quickly in the face of the manic snarls and slurps of hunger from her attacker. The panicked screams of the astronaut who'd managed to get to the airlock only to find claws scraping over the outer window, leaving bloody smears as they blocked his temporary escape from death, another *thing* slowly floating up to him from behind. The breach in the hull the creatures had clawed their way through dripping with frozen blood in zero gravity, entrails floating from when one of them had uncaringly gored themselves climbing through. The soft sobbing as the commander found himself backed into a corner in the engine room, holding a pipe close to himself, his suit coated in gore, his visor cracked and his pursuers slowly surrounding him just before the ship's cameras went down.

"For every human being who looks up at the moon in the nights to come will know that there is some corner of another world that is forever mankind. We will return to the stars and we will not rest until we have faced that final frontier and conquered it."

A flicker of static. The cameras flicked on. The torn flesh of the ship's navigator floated next to one of the cameras like a macabre blanket. Through flecks of gore on the lens, words could be seen written on the wall as one of the... things smiled at the camera with sharp, red teeth, the stare neverending, like it was looking back at the viewer. "Are... you... alone...?"

Scratched into each camera was a letter.









>> No.41172482

Good one, anon. I like the way you interwove the separate narratives. Also, using Nixon's speech was a nice touch.

>> No.41172504


Thanks! I've got no experience with speeches so that was kind of a copout on my part. I also notice on rereading I kept repeating words near the end (flicker/flicked, for example), I'll blame that one on my fatigue.

>> No.41172529

This is great. 10/10, clever use of speech.

>> No.41172683
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>> No.41173871


--- The Bahlrin ---

Whether it had been through scripture or spoken word, the villagers had known the inevitability of the Bahlrin's return for centuries. Their fathers knew it; their fathers' fathers knew it; their fathers' fathers' fathers knew it. But it wasn't real. It was only a word once whispered, and then when writing came to their remote village, it was written too.

The only time anybody ever mentioned the Bahlrin was to make light of something.

“I promise that I'll pay you for these leathers as soon as I am able,” someone with a less than stellar reputation would say.

“Oh? And when might that be? When the Bahlrin rises?” the other would remark.

And then they would laugh.

That's how things were in this village. The people were friendly and willing to help their neighbors, even if their neighbors couldn't always make good on their debts. Aside from making sure they had enough food and firewood for the winter, their troubles were few. Life was simple.

* * *

Alfhildr began to awake from her sleep with a long stretch. Sleeping on a bench cushioned only with fur always left her feeling stiff, but her father scolded her whenever he caught her sleeping on the grass. She was scolded for a lot of things actually. When she was younger she tried cutting her hair shorter to a little above her shoulders. Her grandfather hadn't liked that. Her aunt had been displeased when she found Alfhildr wearing the clothes of her male cousin to do farm work. And her father was more than a little distraught to find her swinging a stick around like it was a sword. “They weren't womanly things,” they had said, but she was so little at the time she hardly understood. Thinking back, Alfhildr couldn't help but smile a little.

>> No.41173879


It all seemed happily silly to her considering she was fourteen and would soon be married to her neighbor's son. Her neighbors were among the more well-off of the villagers, and such an arrangement would surely prove beneficial for both families as her own was fairly successful too. Such a thing was normal for her people and one of the responsibilities of being a woman.

Sitting up, Alfhildr glanced around. There were still more than a few smoldering embers in the fireplace that gave birth to a thin trail of smoke which rose through a vent in the roof. Unsurprisingly – as she liked to get up early - everyone in her family was still asleep. She rose to her feet and quietly made her way outside, still clothed in nothing but the loincloth she wore when sleeping under pelts in the spring time. The feeling of the cool morning air on her bare skin was well worth the risk of being chided were she to be caught so naked.

Once outside, Alfhildr made her way across her family's small farm toward a large rock that sat near the edge of the cliffs overlooking the fjord. Drawing closer, more and more of the opposite cliffside became visible, and with it appeared the entrance to the cave that had given birth to the legend of the Bahlrin so many years ago. With the moon behind the cave's position on the cliff's face, little light made its way inside, and so the cave almost seemed a dark spot of emptiness amidst stone and dirt.

Once seated on her rock, Alfhildr let her eyes drift to the water below and trace its winding path as she began to relax and let her mind wander. But something about the water caught her eyes. It didn't seem to be moving right. Instead of gentle waves being urged along the water's surface by the flow of wind through the fjord, the water seemed to ripple out in all directions from the cliff opposite her.

>> No.41173896


The rippling grew more turbulent as time passed, and Alfhildr found herself entranced by the dancing of the water and the way the light of the moon bounced off the water in all directions. It took the tremors of the earth below and a great rumbling that sounded like thunder her to wake her from her stupor, but by then it was too late as Alfhildr was thrown over the edge of the cliff by the violence of the quake. Rapidly descending toward a rocky peril, Alfhildr fought to orient herself and slow her fall. She grabbed out with her left arm at a protruding rock successfully ceasing her descent a short distance from the ground, but she lacked the strength to prevent her arm from immediately being wrenched from its socket. The accompanying pain and loss of function of her arm loosed her grip on the rock, and she began to fall again.

* * *

“Where is Alfhildr?” her father cried, realizing she had not been in bed when he was abruptly woken.

“It is come,” her grandfather said to no one in particular.

“Where is my daughter?” her father repeated, louder this time, as he ran outside in search of her.

The village was in disarray. Some stood absentmindedly, eyes aimed to the direction of the cave. For the most part, a family member would pull the awestruck back into reality, but a helpless few remained. The composed got their family on horseback with whatever supplies were near and fled with haste. The accepting were calm and simply waited.

* * *

>> No.41173904


Alfhildr awoke to a distant pain in her left shoulder and slight throbbing in her head. She looked up to find the waters had calmed and everything was quiet once more. Then she noticed it was daylight, and Alfhildr quickly tried to rise, but her spinning head made her wince and re-evaluate her eagerness. Taking a slower approach this time, Alfhildr got up and made her way toward the steep path along the cliffside that led home.

When she reached the top, Alfhildr couldn't believe what she saw. Not a single house stood whole. The ground was littered with stray wood and stone that once formed walls. The thatching that had once been their roofs was, in many places, reverted to its original, deconstructed form as straw was strewn about, haphazardly scattered with the help of wind. Bodies lay on the ground, crumpled masses of gore. She stood agape as her eyes traced their way toward the spot her own home had once occupied. What she found instead was a small corner of wall accompanied by a mess of rubble.

Something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Adjusting her gaze, she saw him. He sat slumped over with his back to the rock she liked to sit on, blood staining his torn shirt, deep gashes clawed into his chest. His bloodied hand still clutched his sword.

“Father!” Alfhildr screamed as she ran to him, one arm dangling limply at her side.

She slowed as she drew nearer, knowing he hadn't moved since she saw him. She raised his head to look at his eyes, and though they were pointed in her direction, what looked back was unfocused and empty. Alfhildr sank to the ground in front of her father's corpse. And she wept. She clutched her father's broken body, and she wept. It wasn't until a far-off cry broke the quiet of the day that Alfhildr's crying was slowed. Then another scream came, and she realized that whatever did this was still close by.

>> No.41173916


Gently, she pried her father's fingers from his sword handle, and took it in her own.

“Goodbye, Father.” she said before kissing him on the forehead.

Alfhildr rose and proceeded in the direction she heard the screams, staring straight ahead so as to avoid discovering any more members of her family. It didn't take long for her to find the footprints of the beast; they were at least a dozen times the size of her own feet, and they receded away from the village, in pursuit of horses, apparently.

After traveling a fair distance from the village – enough so that it was entirely out of sight, obstructed by hills and trees – she caught up with the owner of the tracks, which was gnawing on the remains of a horse; its rider was nowhere to be seen.

Though a quadruped, the monster's body stood at least twice the size of the tallest man, thrice if one were to measure it from its head down. Scales encased its back, flanks, tail, and the crown of its head which held two large and curvy horns. A thick mane traveled the back of its neck, and a line of hair contoured the beast's underside. Two more horns protruded from its forward flanks, one on each side and longer than those on the creature's head.

It took Alfhildr a minute to realize that this – the thing that had killed her father and her entire family – was the Bahlrin. It wasn't exactly as the tales had described. It was smaller, had no wings, and she saw no evidence of it being able to wield any elements such as fire or lightning. But this was it nonetheless. It had to be.

>> No.41173931


Alfhildr was motionless, her body relaxed. Her left arm dangled awkwardly behind her, and her right loosely held her father's sword. She simply stared. She felt neither fear nor anger, only awe. The Bahlrin. Her whole life, she had been brought up with tales of this creature. She looked everyday to the origin of its tale. To think that it was actually real. She continued to stand idly as the Bahlrin stopped chewing and raised its head from its kill. Straightening, the Bahlrin turned its head to the side and looked directly at Alfhildr, who continued to stand carelessly in her undergarment, her hair floating along with the flow of a gentle breeze.

They remained that way for some time. Each just stared at the other. In the distance a flock of birds flew by. The monster's snarl finally brought Alfhildr back to reality and she remembered why she was there. More firmly now, she clutched her father's sword and raised it to a position of readiness. In response, the Bahlrin shifted its body so that it faced her head-on. A few more moments passed, and then the beast charged.

Alfhildr hardly had time to move out of the way; the terror's speed was alarming. She was hardly on her feet before the Bahlrin was turned and about to charge again. This time, Alfhildr did not move out of the way, instead she waited. She waited until just before the monster was upon her to dive to the ground in front of it, thrusting the sword up and out as she fell, hoping that there was enough space under its belly for her to avoid being crushed. The beast's charge brought the blade home. Letting out a sharp cry, it impaled itself on nearly the full length of the blade as it charged Alfhildr, the sword still lodged in its underside once it passed.

>> No.41173938


Now weaponless, Alfhildr looked to her surroundings to find some sort of aid, but there was nothing. They were in a trough between two sets of hills, and though the hills were covered in trees, the area they were in was desolate save for some large rocks and the body of a half-eaten horse. She looked back at the Bahlrin, which was turning toward her, more cautiously now as a thick, crimson blood dripped from the hilt of her father's sword.

As the Bahlrin cautiously bridged the distance between them, Alfhildr had little idea how next to act. She knew she needed to get the sword back somehow, but the method eluded her. Swiftly, the Bahlrin swiped at her with one of its paws. Alfhildr recoiled, just barely evading the tip of its claws. Before she was able to fully regain her balance, the monster swiped again, and this time Alfhildr was unable to so totally avoid it. She ended up trying to duck under the Bahlrin's swing, but she wasn't fast enough, and it caught Alfhildr on her descent, claws slashed her right calf, the force of the blow sent her hurtling through the air.

>> No.41174091
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>> No.41174559
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>> No.41175285
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>MFW I doodled a picture that was pretty much exactly like that in highschool.

I hope my memory is just failing to remember the inspiration for the drawing, or that's some spooky shit.

>> No.41176369
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>> No.41176667
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>> No.41176789

You pet the kid on the head.
>”Any time! I’m sure that your family really appreciates everything you did for them. After all, they’re happy. Right?”

The two of you spent the next while just staring out into the market. Neither of you really said much, but being together, you were sure it meant the world to them. Just being that cool older sibling for them to rely on felt good.

Then you found yourself beholden to perhaps the most bizarre sight you ever saw: two women wearing identical shrouds; one of them looked like their hair was pale like sand – no, wait, you realize it IS sand! Her partner also looks familiar: cropped dark hair, catlike eyes, and a face that looks almost too delicate.
>“Little one!”
The sand-haired one tackled the kid and is now swinging them around. While you can hear cries for her to stop, they’re going unheeded for the time being. Her partner, though, seems to be a lot more levelheaded and talks to you.
>”I take it you are this gypsy’s friend?”
You shake off the surprise in your head and answer.
>”U-um, yes we are! Is your friend over there familiar?”
>”You see, your friend over there and my bride are actually siblings.”
Huh, they’re married? That seems surprising, even for two women, they seem to be almost-wait siblings?
>”My bride is…well, she used to be a lot more overbearing. For the longest time she’s been hiding her own feelings and apparently at one point or another, she asked her little brother about her own fortune. Apparently, it said something about being more honest about your feelings and…she decided eventually to propose to me.”
Brother? You latch on to the definitive proof, that fortuneteller’s a boy?
>”I admit, this is my first time seeing him. It’d be forgivable if you were mistaken about his identity.”
>”So what brings you here then?”
>”Isn’t it obvious? We’re here to thank him for bringing us together!”

>> No.41177447

You need to post that in the smut threads.
Copy all that up and paste into a pastebin.
That was some good writing.
I'd love to see that story continue and unfold.

>> No.41179182
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>> No.41180332

You begin to smile. You were right!
>”So…this means that he really was appreciated then.”
>”My, my. Was that what he told you?”
You nod.
>”It’s funny, really. For ages, we’ve revered our gods as these mighty beings who are somehow above out petty lives, when in reality…they just want to be loved like any one of us.”
The sand-haired woman finally calmed down enough to put down your friend, but it seems he’s still really shaken.
>”You know, when I first found out that my bride’s sister was married to a woman, I was surprised as well. I had thought of such a relationship improper, a breach of contract. After all, they’re putting a single human above the hundreds and thousands they swore to protect. But the more I thought about it, especially after getting married myself, I came to realize that their lives are just the same as ours.”
The way this woman talks impresses you. She’s definitely studied this matter a lot!
>”And…how would you know all of this?”
>”Easy; my wife is also my goddess.”
The revelation floors you. This whole time, you were playing with a god? No, more than that, the whole news about gods somehow falling in love was actually true? And it was right in front of you?
>”You look surprised. Did the whole ‘sand for hair’ thing not seem weird to you?”
>”It-I mean, it could just be my eyes!”
She laughs, wounding your pride.
>”I guess that was a bit mean. This is truly a strange time to be alive. Our gods are becoming closer to us than ever, our lands are becoming peaceful, and we are making all sorts of breakthroughs. Who knows? Maybe someday, we might even see across the World’s Scar!”
That does sound nicer. The thought of so many great things happening in your lifetime is something that people always wanted.
>”I guess we should all thank her. My sister-in-law, I mean. It was her bravery that led to this, after all.”

>> No.41180765

>”Led to what?”
Right behind you, you found a demure-looking woman carrying a cart full of textiles and riding on top of it, a woman whose hair was literally fire, you were sure of it this time! The two of them parked the cart over to the side and the two goddesses greeted each other.
>”Oh! Hello, I’m-“
>”We were just talking about your wife’s hand in making history.”
The woman blushed.
>”Everyone keeps saying that! Honestly, I just wanted to be with the one I loved!”
The sand-goddess’ wife laughs politely.
>”We should be thanking you!”
>”Actually, we should be thanking someone else.”
You already see where this is leading and are about to ask if the humans could join when you’re stopped by yet another woman, this time a lot larger and with a more motherly expression on her face.
>”Excuse me, but I take it that there’s a fortuneteller here?”
Her songlike voice entrances you immediately, but you slap your senses back in. You take a moment to notice that this one is wearing a black cape – as dark as midnight – when you then realize that there’s a head sprouting on it!
The goddesses, predictably, do not seem to be surprised, but the way the sand-haired one reacts especially surprises you. Her steel seems to come almost immediately after how affectionately she was playing with your friend the fortuneteller.
Speaking of, the shadow emerged from the cape and became a full person – equipped with his own cape – in order to speak to him. Though tense, nobody seems to make a move while the shadow-man talks to the fortuneteller. You pick up that something’s wrong with his beady white eyes: They look sad.
>”When I last met with you, I…said many things to you, a lot of them mean. I had thought you were insulting me, but…eventually I, too, found myself wondering what it was like to want someone like our sister.”
The fire-head sighs. It seems she’s popular among them. Could it be, you think, that she’s the cause of all this romance stuff?

>> No.41181814

>”I…want to apologize, little brother. I had acted out of line that day, and I feel as though I should have been better about it.”
Your friend seems apprehensive about it; he looks to you as if to ask for guidance. You think about shrugging, but then you notice everyone’s eyes on you. Without any option available, you just nod your head, hoping for the best.
>”Brother, there’s one last part of the fortune I want to show you. If you are willing to cooperate, I would…like to show it to you.”
>”I would gladly.”
The darkness begins pooling into the floor, peering as the fortuneteller grabs his deck and begins shuffling once more.

With nothing else to do, you decide to approach the two goddesses.
>”I would like to ask, but…what convinced the two of you to...well, marry who you did?”
The two of them glance at each other for an instant before agreeing to let the fiery one talk first.
>”I remember…one day, I decided to ask my brother about my fortune. I was anticipating something bad happening in the event that some marauders were to invade the Port of Birth, but…curiously, he instead mentioned that one day I would answer someone’s deepest most heartfelt prayer if I only felt it as much as they did. I admit, it made no sense to me back then. Then, one day, I met this beautiful woman who prayed to me that she wanted someone to be friends with her. Someone who cared about where she was and missed her when she was gone.”
She sighed nostalgically.
>”I…decided to answer her wish. I agreed that I’d welcome her back every time she returned home. And…well, we became friends. And from friends we became lovers, and from lovers…”
>”And you were confident about this being right the whole time?”
She jolted out of her dreamlike smile.

>> No.41181983

"Well this isn't going to plan..." Elise grumbled, as another particle shot slammed into the post she was taking cover behind.
"Ron, How close are you to shutting down the force-field around the head?!" She shouted, over the blaring of the alarms and shouts of the security men running towards them.
"Shut up El, you know I'm going as fast as I can!" The man was quickly using his stolen hand welder to fuse a few circuits and melt a few wires here and there on the interface. The smell of acrid smoke filled the room, mingling with the ozone smell of discharged plasma blasts. Ellie, meanwhile, getting a momentary reprieve, thrust her arm out behind her, around the pillar, shooting away in the general direction of the door. Hearing another grunt of pain and a shout, she knew her flailing shot had hit someone. "Look, we're about to be overrun by corpsec, are we any closer to getting this damn head thing out?" She growled out, this time leaning out to accurately aim at the fuckers that were trying to stop her payday. Her cybereyes didn't see anything, because the fuckers had ducked back when she was shooting.
"Yea yea, almost there, keep your panties on!" With a final electrical arc and an almost inaudible whirring noise, the shield around the head was lowered. Ellie heard the noise and looked towards the head.
"Okay, Ron, grab the thing and lets go, just slice the damn cables off, that thing brain has a battery backup that will last long enough to get it the the client." As Ron hastily complied, she blew out a breath of relief and frustration. "Now how the hell do we get out of this damn base...?"
Ron, having finished putting the head in his pack, grinned at her and pulled out 5 bricks of something that looked like white clay. "Well we could always blow our way out, ya know?" Ellie grinned at him and nodded. "Good idea."

>> No.41183040
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>> No.41183518

>”Oh, no! Not at all! There were absolutely times where I was afraid someone would think it wrong that a goddess and a human were together, from either side! I was afraid about being left alone when she finally passed on and the like! I thought that she would have someone she liked more than me, someone who could feel the same as she did, but…she loved me more than anything else, and I her.”
On some stupid impulse, you decided to take her hand upon yours.
>”Thank you, goddess. I enjoyed your story, and…maybe you do not feel it, but I think this place has certainly become happier thanks to the two of you.”
She smiled. However, the moment was interrupted as the sand goddess turned you around.
>”Y-you can’t have her! She’s married and you’ve still to hear my story!”
The way she changed faces was cute to you, like she wanted to please you. You decide to humor her as well.
>”Well then?”
She hastily straightened herself out, which you noticed also amused her bride too.
>”Listen well, mortal! My story began when I first gained my territory. Despite my power, I knew I would be unable to protect the people of my lands for long, so in their stead, I took in a family and offered them my favor in exchange for their services as my priests and protectors. So it was for years upon years, where I saw many families proclaim themselves in my service, helping the people in my name and protecting my realm from invaders and brigands alike.”
>”Um…can we please just skip to the part where-“
Your interruption infuriates the sand goddess.
>”You DARE question me about my story? You insolent –“
You were saved by her wife, who similarly agreed with you. You exhale sharply, saved from learning how sand feels in your lungs.
>”F-fine. But only because she asked! Well, the thing is that I eventually grew attached to my servants. But as a protector, I could not show weakness lest my enemies learn of it. And then, one day, my last servant died and gave birth to…her.”

>> No.41185587
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>> No.41186149

Your eyes trace her gaze to see…the short-haired woman she was with, now busy talking with the merchant while selling something. To think, their romance lasted her lifetime. It felt surreal.
>”I…never admit to being a good parent, but in that moment, I swore that I’d protect her precious, tiny life with everything that I had. And when she grew up, I then thought about what would happen when she got married. I was…afraid, maybe, that she’d forget me.”
>”So you decided to propose to her?”
>”Well…eventually. When I heard that my sister got married, I too decided to ask for my fortune, and I’m sure my bride already explained the story about that…which embarrasses me.”

You thanked both goddesses for their stories and then look to see your friend the fortuneteller finishing his art with the shadow-man. One last card was drawn, a Joker. You could feel the tension as he began to calculate with that tambourine as his guide.
>”You have done well to not forget about what I said, but still, I think stalking and kidnapping her is reprehensible.”
The shadow-man bristles.
>”But…you have to remember that she is not the same as you, but the one person to complete your life. Please, cherish her as such. She just may surprise you when you least expect it.”
A little finger of hand of darkness stretches out and pats him on the head.
>”Thank you.”

You then catch sight of another couple, a man with another man that looked almost like a sea monster. And then another, looking like a flock of birds. Pretty soon, the entire floor is flooded with couples of all sorts, divine and otherwise. You even catch sight of a few pairings of three, usually reserved for those relationships that are absolutely assured to last because of the trust between them.
Soon, the entire marketplace is just full of people, just looking at the little fortuneteller.
All of them recite the same thing, as if it were rehearsed.

>”Thank you!”

>> No.41186799


Immediately, the little boy starts crying, though he seems unable to register it as such. He just stands there, face leaking, and he’s struggling to say even a word. On instinct, everyone goes to him like a giant tidal wave of bodies, but you manage to reach him first. He grabs onto you, now visibly crying.
You’re glad for it, and you’re sure he is too: He was never really taken for granted.

The next day, you enter the market again.
You try to find that little gypsy again, but instead find a note where you think you remember seeing him.

>”I have my own stand now. Come find me.”

So again, you let the currents of the marketplace take you. You drift throughout the corridors and halls and glance for an instant to see what just might be there. While many interesting wares are sold from all across the world, you only seem to pay attention for anyone with cards on their table.
By a complete turn of luck, you find a stand covered in a purple-and-gold cloth. Spread across it are playing cards, all face-down.
A hand motions to you.
You pick a card. An ace of hearts.
>”Tch. I knew you would pick that card.”
>”So, got anything you need help with?”
>”Sure thing, friend.”


>> No.41187888
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>> No.41188087

Good work as always, anon.

>> No.41189134
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I'm just glad it's finished.

I just hope people are okay with it even though there's no lewd involved..

>> No.41189296

>even though there's no lewd involved..
It's good to see you branching out, while still building on your previous work.

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>> No.41197145

ya Wizard interview was good shit

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>> No.41198369

"Okay, who left their lunch in the generator rooms fridge?"

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>> No.41205573

Two black-feathered beasts stood high above the dry Java grass. One looked at the long, gray roads that stretched off to the forest at the horizon. There were multiple signs near the roads, one like an eye and another pointing to the west, but the creatures did not understand them. Far off, through the thin fog, the remnants of a orange orbital station could be seen jutting out of the earth. After so many years the stench of man still lingered within those grand ruins, but nature has already begun its process of transformation. Many generations in the future, the upper portions will crumble and crash back into the earth, creating new homes for the animals of this land.

The two predators did not think of the far future. Hunger filled the recesses of their mind. They were tracking a scent that drifted from the rings.

These creatures, commonly known as achillobators, are noteworthy not for their deep black plumage, but the pattern that their white and blue feathers take. White markings stain the tip and back of the snout. A large, blue eye inhabits most of the space of the back marking, and blue feathers partially trail down behind the beast’s neck. A thin line of white feathers also comes from the side of the back marking, and it travels along the achillobator’s entire body. The raptor’s body is balanced by a long tail that is enveloped with black feathers. Three white-tipped, black feathers form a crown on the beast’s head.

The two achillobators looked down the roads in caution. At an early age they have been taught that large, hulking animals frequently travel down the roads at high speeds. The plains were quiet, save the chirping of the birds in the far-off forest and the occasional achillobator growl. After gaining enough courage, the pair leaped across the road and continued their stalking.

>> No.41205601

The creaking and groaning of the rings’ rusting metal filled the air as one came towards it. For this reason the raptors saw the rings as a motionless, foul-tasting, dying creature owned by man.

Through the rings, the prey’s scent was intensified. The nest was bound to be hidden within the rings. A location like that made it difficult for predators to enter it, but it also made it difficult for prey to leave it. Typically, the way in was also the way out. The more patient type of predator simply has to wait in front of the entrance until the prey finally sticks their head out in desperation.

The hunt of the hour consisted of two large sand badgers, one male and one female. Usually, one badger can be easily handled by an achillobator, though not without some trouble. Many a raptor have lost an eye or two as they tried to tear into the belly of what appeared to be a dead badger. These two badgers are expected to be exceptionally aggressive considering that they will be defending their nest and children.

That is not including any other pairs of badgers that are nesting within the ruins.

The raptors stalked with their heads down, keeping their clicks and chirps to a minimum. The fog grew denser as they traveled deeper through the rings, yet, due to their large eyes, it had no real effect on their vision. What the beasts focused on was the scent, which only grew stronger.

They stopped in front of a piece of the decayed station. The scent was strongest there, and they could hear the panicked breathing of the two badgers inside. The soft mewlings of babies could also be heard. There would be enough for both raptors.

>> No.41205633

The achillobators detected the stench of fear waft from the sett and into the air. One raptor stood near the plate that covered the opening and the other stepped back. The second raptor rushed the plate and knocked it to the ground. The badgers hissed and the first raptor lunged to take advantage of the opening. It snapped its jaws towards the mother and bit into her back.

The mother badger screamed and trashed. The boar turned to the mother and was promptly bitten by the second raptor. Because of the badger’s flailing, the sow was dropped, and she bit at her previous captor’s leg, tearing off the feathers to reach the flesh that could be found there. The second raptor swung its head around and threw the father to the floor. He was dead.

The first raptor was still having trouble with the mother. It would bring its jaws close, but the mother would bite back. The second raptor dug into the burrow and pulled out a cub by the leg. The raptor threw it at the plate and shattered its spine.

The mother turned to see its child cry out in pain. Its life was escaping. The first raptor used this opportunity to grab the mother by its head and crush her skull between its teeth. The mother’s blood tinted the beast’s feathers red. It dropped the body and headed to the nest.

The two achillobators were able to pull out all three of the cubs. They bit into the heads to kill them instantly. They ate the children as they were, bones and all. Only the sound of the wind whistling through the ruins and the crunch of small bones could be heard. The achillobators tore into the flesh greedily.

The two raptors, their jaws and chest now dyed a bright, dangerous red, walked towards the parents. Each one picked a badger up between its bloodied maw and faded into the fog, back from whence they came.

The forest birds' songs eventually returned.

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>> No.41224841

>> No.41225230

>ITT The girl with Dodge Challenger eyes.

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