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9317674 No.9317674 [Reply] [Original] [4plebs] [archived.moe]

Hello /tg/, I'm a writefaggot, here to writefag whatever you want. Be it a character background, item description, character description, or just a regular short-story! I'm up for writing most anything, except furfaggotry or porn. Besides that, hit me with your best shot, /tg/!

>> No.9317745

Addendum: I know a decent amount about fantasy, sci-fi, 40k, etc. But I may ask to clarify if I don't immediately recognize/know something.

Also, inb4 DD11

>> No.9317755

Tell me a story about a dragon fought by three generations.

>> No.9317764

It should have a 'LUKE, I AM YOUR FATHER' ending.

>> No.9317783

Why not? I'll jump in too. Naming for obvious distinction purposes.

Request away.

>> No.9317785

>except furfaggotry or porn

You've come to the wrong place.

While you're here though, spin me a tale about magic item used for storing daemonic entities inside living beings, specifically lolis without using the word loli or any strict pedophilia inuendo.

>> No.9317805

Could you please do an apocalyptic log by some explorers trapped in a cave by a nameless horror?

I got the idea from the part in Lord of the Rings where Gandalf reads that record of the Goblin siege, which I like immensely. Plus, Apoc logs need to be done better.

>> No.9317827

I'd like a continuation of Anderson's epic adventures.

>> No.9317832
File: 90 KB, 600x450, 1267132523848.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] [report]

Requesting "Buzz Lightyear: Space Marine".

>> No.9317870


>> No.9317942

The old man was obviously drunk by now, weakly and pitifully sipping on a tankard of ale, old and weak, holding the drink in one quivering hand. An eyepatch had taken over for his left eye, a single disfiguring scar in it's place. The light of the tavern (or was it the alcohol singing in my veins?) made him look every part the hero that I had heard of. This man was legend, not the men made greater by death but the truth, a real hero. The bones of the Unt'er lay bleached on the mountain face for all to see, a single rusting sword still thrust into the very rock, right where the beast's neck would have been.

"Tell me, Ser Cassius, tell me of your version of the tale of Janus the Immortal. I've heard it many times, but it is few times that a bard gets to hear the story from the source." I smiled and leaned forward, awaiting the man's response. I had already bought him enough ale to loosen his lips, hopefully.

The same shaking hand lowered the flagon onto the table with a harsh knock, making the candle on it flicker somewhat.

"The real tale, huh? You sure you want that?" The man grinned slightly through his coarse beard, scratching his shoulder. "Of Janus, bane of County Highbrough for three generations of warriors, of Janus, the beast that my grandfathers and fathers trained me from birth to kill? You shall have it then, but I warn you, it will not end as you have heard before."

>> No.9317998

Keep it coming.

>> No.9318089

"When I was but a boy, early in my squire days, I first saw the beast. It was a great wyrm, pale and terrible to behold. It lit the southern forest on fire, that which you most likely had to travel through to get here, that which is now a splendor of beauty and fertility. I beheld it with such hate, ingrained and ground into me by my father. I do not know of your lands, but here the words for dragon are used as curses. Every day I prayed for the steeling of my hands, the strengthening of my arms so I could choke the life out of that beast, so I could smash it's eggs and cut the tongues out of it's young, let them drown in their own blood. I was hardened by war, for we have had to fight the Orc on our western borders for as long as I can remember. Even there Janus was visible, always watching the battles from high above, or from a barely visible mountaintop. I had such hatred for this monster that I took no wife, had no children, I let my rage fuel my warrior's skill. For ten years I led our armies on the western front until I broke the back of the Orc horde, but still this was nothing to me. Ever I dreamed of the great pale snake, writhing through the sky and taunting me with the images of my slain mother, of the generations before me that had to live with the shadow of the beast in the mountains, with fear in their hearts at the passing of bird's shadows."

>> No.9318140

The great dragon Skjalandir was a beast that had conquered many other lands, destroyed countless villages, and amassed a following that numbered in the thousands. Warriors screamed its name, like some sort of god, as they waged an engulfing war.

A war that had come to reach the Dwarven lands, the citadel of Koganusan in particular. It was this mighty fortress, with its bloody history hanging about its neck like a yoke, that had stood in the dragon's way. Its armies of orcs and goblins had rushed the walls with all manner of weapons, crossbow bolts shattering against the walls as the Dwarves within- with grim determination- held their line.

Skjalandir had remained behind his massive army the entire while, content to rest atop his moving mountain of wealth as hundreds assaulted the walls month after month. The short pauses meant nothing to the defending dwarves, who worked tirelessly to maintain the defense effort. Crafters forged fresh ballista bolts, whilst bowyers strung crossbows and finished fine bolts from the seemingly endless stocks of the fortress's holds.

But slowly, surely, the luck of the dwarves began to wear thin. As their numbers burgeoned, and the occasional assault was forayed, the seemingly endless stocks of metal, wood, and ale began to run dry. Injuries mounted with little water, bandages, or even basic soap to tend to them.

>> No.9318147

It was thus that the leader of Koganusan, the mighty Sankis, decided to launch a final assault. For an entire generation, over twenty years, the fort's primary functions were put to a halt. Young dwarves were trained to fight, doctors armed with crossbows and what bolts could be spared. Planter and crafter alike learned the necessities of fighting, the dining halls shifting into training rooms and massive armories. No runners were sent forth, for none of the other citadels could provide aid with the fervor of preparations.

Not that Sankis ever would, for Sankis and the members of Koganusan would rather die than ever lose their dwarven honor. As the sixtieth year mark of the siege came to a close, both sides grew tired of the waiting. With a mighty shriek, Skjalandir- the Great Dragon- came to flight, its entire army at its flank.

And on the opposite side, Sankis stood resplendent in his solid adamantine armor, an artifact axe clutched in one hand an a mighty shield in his other. Behind him, rank after rank of dwarf stood ready to wage war. Over two hundred in total, the army prepared to wage bloody warfare on a scale never seen before.

"For Boatmurdered!" Cried the dwarven leader, charging forth.

"For Boatmurdered!" The surviving dwarves cried in unison, joining a battle that would only be surpassed by that of the apocalypse itself.

>> No.9318186
File: 133 KB, 582x900, concept drawing.jpg [View same] [iqdb] [saucenao] [google] [report]

Three women interacting. They are the embodiment of different instruments. They could be discussing a concert or the high Victorian life style.

Kate-Violin I see being demure but somewhat haughty
Loren-Piano: I see being reclusive but emotional and insightful
maria-Flute:whimsical and somewhat young

pic related it's the violin.

>> No.9318258

Finally, I arrived to my home, to my lands, and I began to think of setting aside my rage, my born hatred. There was a woman, you see, of course there is always a woman."

I nodded, but hesitantly so. Everything in this story matched every other I had heard, until now. The story of Cassius had no romance, had no anger, there was only a legendary general with the strength of five men. "Hah, I know what you mean, ser-"

"I'm not done talking, whelp." He didn't seem to recognize he was being rude, but something about the way his remaining eye pierced my gaze suggested that there was far beyond this story than simple hatred and an earth-shaking battle.

"Her name was Kianna, and she was a fantastic woman. Great cook, wore platemail like she was born in it, killed a man for wronging her once, or so I heard, true Highbrough woman, through and through. So I come back, victorious and lauded general, so high and unt'erenn mighty.." He took a huge swig of his drink, wiping his mouth with a broad hand.

"I asked her what it would take for her hand in marriage, Bard, and you know what she said? 'A real man always makes sure his people are protected before he is serviced, and yet Janus still lives, Cassius.' So there it was, I kill the Dragon, I get the woman, just like the stories, right?"

I began to start talking, but the old warrior held up a hand, silencing any thought I had. "Worst reason to kill I've ever heard."

>> No.9318371

The venerable warlock stared down at the bundle in his arms, the elderly man's face- weathered and scarred with age- having gained a rosy tint to it. But not from drinking, certainly never from drink. What he had done would never be erased, and certainly not by drink.

"Forgive me, my child." He said to the infant in his arms, the wee babe reaching out for the short-cut stubble of the warlock's chin. The man's face split into a pitiful smile as the child cooed to him, the bright blue rune on its right hand flickering a deep color of red as the man trod forward.

All around him, the city was in ruins. The massive, proud towers of his people had been knocked over or destroyed. Some house shad been set aflame, whilst others still were broken into, the inhabitants inside giving pitiful wails as they were cut to shreds by unseen attackers.

But the elderly man could see them, could see all of them. He had let these demons into this world, had ripped apart the veil for a force far greater than what he wielded. All in the interest of creating a perfect world for his child.

Even now, a pair of massive, rippling fiends ceased their torment of a long-dead woman's spirit to charge the warlock. A single cone of eldritch energy, silent in its lethality, obliterated the two abominations and a fair portion of the street ahead.

The child simply giggled as the ancient warlock progressed towards the city's heart, a mountain of dead bodies having been piled together in some macabre throne. A throne of blood and suffering that threatened to reach the stars themselves.

A curtain of flames licked at the feet around the Warlock, but a simple invocation caused them to snuff out at his feet. The man tucked the soft fabric over the child's face, the runic symbols stitched into it glowing brightly. They were ancient magic, the same sort used in the creation in the world.

>> No.9318384

Emerging from the flames, he looked into the stormy clouds, knowing the great beast was there. Lifting the bundle up, he spoke in little more than a whisper. A whisper heard around the world.

"By the purity of this child, I reseal the Gates. By the sanctity of this child, I unwork the acts of the demon. By the flesh of this child, I encase it. Malkius! By the purity of my own kin, you shall never walk these lands again!"

And with that, the Warlock absolved himself of his sins, watching the entire city erupt in light and sound, the Demon King Malkius being ensorcelled into the tiny child, the power of such a binding obliterating the entire kingdom.

"Forgive me...my child."

And with that, all was dust, pardon the child.

>> No.9318433
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>Making up shit that goes against the established lore of Boatmurdered

>> No.9318455

So I gathered a troupe of warriors, the finest from my lands, to scale into the beast's lair. For four hours we scaled up the mountainside, freezing our arses off and covered in head to toe platemail, and finally into the cave. We met drakespawn and slew them in combat, but I lost men. Ser Gregory and Ser Uther were both impaled upon the vicious talons of one of the beasts, and Ser Jahns fell into a pit none of us had seen. It was then only I and my greatest warrior, Ser Kautherin, then entered the true lair of the beast, the Wyrm Janus. She was coiled, snow white and almost mockingly beautiful, coated in shimmering scales that looked diamond hard, sleeping soundly, fangs sticking out of her mouth that were the size of lances. Here was the culmination of my hate, I thought, the final chapter to my forefather's revenge. Revenge is a simple thing, and is almost always a lie."

He made a gesture like he was banging on an unseen, imaginary shield. "I woke the beast and challenged it in the way I had recited before as a child, full of tales of bravery and impossible odds. 'Foul Janus!' I said, pointing my blade at it. 'For too long you have plagued the lands of my people! For too long you have burned our countryside, slaughtered are people and driven us to fear! Now you face the greatest of our warriors, and now you shall know fear!"

The old man came close then leaning in so he was a mere six inches away from my face. "She uncoiled, ever so deftly, and looked me straight in the eyes with the most intelligent gaze I have ever been given, and in my mind I hear this voice, smooth like liquid crystal, almost more chime than voice.'Ah, Ser Cassius', it began, blinking at me with watery blue eyes. 'I have longed to test you.'" And with that it slammed forward, turning Ser Cautherin into nothing but a smear along the floor.

>> No.9318515

Glad to see you back OP.
I would like to see The group of Musical adventurers trying to get over a massive wall of speakers that block their path for miles on either side.They are looking for fabled instruments of power located somewhere in the land beyond the wall.

>> No.9318576

"For hours we battled, for more times I can count I barely stopped the rain of screeching talons against my shield, barely dodged the gaping maws of the creature, leapt over it's sweaping, barbed tail only to have my blade turned by it's scales. The whole time this creature was mocking me, or so I thought. 'No, that is not the way you fight, Cassius, I have seen you! Fight with your fury!' it would say, like a drill instructor. Finally, I saw the weak point, right behind the beast's legs- it's tendons were unprotected. I brought my shield up to deflect it's claws and with a roar I swung full force at the back of it's leg, severing half of it. All at once I was overwhelmed by a feeling of another's pain...and a sense of deep pride. Neither was my own feeling, I could tell it was Janus's."

"The beast was limping, Bard, and it was easy prey now. I defeated her like I defeated the orc horde, I flanked and broke the back of the enemy. I ran up the wounded leg and onto the enemy's back, and took my shield in both hands, slamming it down. I heard the snap and pulverization of bone, the moan as the Dragon lost control of it's own body. I landed heavily on the stone along with it, but I was the victor. I got up, as I always have against my enemies, and went to look my foe in the eye. Rage boiled in my veins as I remember the taunting of the pearlescent wyrm, and I pulled my blade roughly from it's leg as I advanced upon it's head."

>> No.9318606

Can you write me a medium lenght newspaper like article about a coupe d'etat in brazil and now and why it was prevented in the last minute? I need it as a hand out for Delta Green.

>> No.9318789

the wall is manned by the fiercest opera singers that utilize the wall of speakers to repel unwanted guests. They keep people from going in and things from getting out.Their commander is Russian opera singer Vitas. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vitas)
They have to get through one way or another. But preferably without breaking the wall or killing the guardians.

>> No.9318809

The hero began to fiddle with his beard, as if lost in a thought so real that he was scarred by it.

"I remember the eyes, most of all. So human and large they were, and so expressive. They looked...proud. Happy. I do not know how I knew these things, so do not ask me why. She was in my head once again, sad and full of heart. "Ser Cassius, I love you,' it began, 'as a mother loves a child, for you are the fruit of my labors. The word in your language I can barely make out, but I am a...protector. Guardian.' For generations I have razed the lands of your fathers, for times beyond count I have battled with your grandfathers and anscestors past, until finally...you."

He shook his head, and I swear I saw a single tear escape from the deep folds of his eyes. "I burned not for perverse pleasure but because I knew to make your men hard you had to face adversity, I knew to make you strong you had to be ground down. I killed not for murder but to bring warriors in your people, to make a nation of arms out of my chosen land. Have I not succeeded?"

"The eyes, they hinted at so many emotions I was overwhelmed, emotions I can only describe by glimpses in language and color, but I felt them all. I had just killed the thing that made my people great, had made us resist where all lands around us had fallen, had made us press on because we knew what we could survive, and the Orc pressing into our borders were nothing compared to it."

He hung his head, staring into the tankard. "And so, what did Janus ask for, in the end? Nothing but the knowledge that I would do whatever it took to bring it's way to the entirety of all nations, of all peoples. Make war so that your nation is strong, so that your people can know no fear. And with that I ended the thing I had hated so long, only to find I had hated a lie, bard."

>> No.9318848
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There was a long pause, then Ser Cassius the Dragon Lord, former High Marshal of the Empire of Highbrough looked at me with red-rimmed eyes, and begged me to leave an old man with his drink.

I think I will stick with the story of legend, but perhaps it is best to know that within every tale of vengenance there is a tale of something beautiful that might have happened or did happen, and that the greatest tales of vengenace are also the greatest lies.

FIN, if anyone is still reading. Sorry guys, gotta get to sleep.

>> No.9319409

I'm terrible at log-type stuff, so could I interest you in the greatest apocalypse ever told?

Ah yes, /Andy/. Andy's been very...crazy...

Last we spoke, Andy- after being told he was getting fired- went on a homicidal rampage on the top floor. Butchering a few of his coworkers, and crippling two security guards on their way up the stairs (Thanks to the strategic pulling of the fire alarm, the elevators are out-of-use). SO! Without further ado...

Anderson smiled as he marched down the stairs, the door to the first floor beckoning to him. The alarms were ringing all over the place, and even now the office man could hear the wail of police sirens outside. The police were here!

"Sucks to be them." The deranged office worker replied, kicking open the door to a scene of panic. Office workers, having seen the police vehicles outside, were now rushing towards the waiting arms of the regular blueshirts. They had no idea about what was about to come their way.

At least, not too many of them did. Hefting his handguns with no real level of skill, the young worker opened fire on the fleeing crowd.

A two-handgun barrage of rounds took down that many officers, both men crumpling to the ground as the rounds ripped through their unarmored chests.

The other officers, not having come expecting a firefight, were slow to react. Alexander took advantage of this by rushing a child-laden woman, driving her forward like a cow with the muzzle of the empty handgun in his right, the still-loaded one in his left waiting to be used.

The screaming woman stumbled on as the officers held their fire, their eyes glazed over in shock at the madman as he forced his way through the crowd. None thought to be heroes with the woman's life on the line.

>> No.9319498


When he came within twenty feet of the officers, he snagged his foot out. Alexander's face split into a demented smile as the woman went tumbling, his right hand discarding the spent pistol at the officer to the left whilst he shot the remaining cop with his last few bullets.

As though looking through water, the effect he wanted was had- One cop went down with a perfect hole drilled into his forehead. The other recoiled as the still-hot barrel scorched his shattered nose, Alexander leaping at the man like a spider monkey.

A well-placed Nike to the throat sent the man to the ground, gasping for air. Alexander wasted little time, knowing that more officers would be on their way the moment the words "Shots fired" hit the air.

His coworkers agasp, Alexander took one of the fallen guns of the officers before using it to shatter a cruiser's driver-side windshield. Letting the glass fall where it will, he opened the door, used the keys left in the ignition to start it up, and promptly peeled out over the fallen remains.

Whilst, of course, taking aim with his front bumper at choice targets of opportunity.

>> No.9319632

A story depicting noble lord's daughter beingli turned into a living marionette less than half her original height as punishment for her manipulative nature. The curse was cast by a traveling witch. This is one of the characters in a game I'm in. Other party members were similarily cursed for various deeds, before the game started.

>> No.9320667

Did OP leave?
I request this character discussing with his wife.

A young black man with his head shaved bald and a sorrowful look. His eyes and left arm are cybernetic. His clothes are similar to ones in Tron legacy, except not a body suit. He is holding a device that is projecting a holographic doll sized woman who is looking up at him. She seems sad with her arms clasped together in a pleading fashion. In his other hand he is holding a futuristic syringe.

She is his wife who died in a piloting accident. He also was in the crash, hence his cyber-parts. The syringe is filled with a drugs that he has been using to forget about the accident. And to forget that he was the one piloting

>> No.9321593


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>> No.9325236


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