Post a picture. Write a story about other pictures

>Leopold II
Give the man a hand!

See, izz island! Offer very good price! You give DNA for fertilization ritual, and don't azzk questions. I give you entire island, filled with ancient ruins that aren't abandoned birthizzg plazes filled with failed offspring!

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Cccccoooooommmmeee. Come join our party. It's a fun party. Free entrainment! Free skin care! Free patronage of Things Best Not Spoken Aloud! Don't mind the wires, tools, blood, and strange devices, just c'mon over!

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'I swear to god those fucking flowers are following me.' He thought, checking his map again. Easiest hunting grounds in the country his ass. He hadn't found any living thing but plants for the three days, and those fucking flowers kept multiplying and moving!

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"Shhhhiiiit, this is some good stuff! I told you F'glák's this would be easy, just gotta have the right drugs!" Hermedial said, his know it all tone, and the horrible stench from his drugs that even the filters on their helmets couldn't help, grating on them all. Doing their best to ignore them, they worked on butchering and moving the pieces of the Hinderland Àuknt back to their transport, not helped by the lazing Hermedial.

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"I am aroused but also terrified"

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1/2
>He wasn't sure if he stood just beyond the reach of the arrows, or just within them. Either way, those cares were miles away; the sense of danger was there but it was such a distant sensation that it barely registered. He had a bad feeling about his son accompanying him on this most holy crusade, but he was of age and could do nothing about it. The seasoning will do the boy good, he told himself. But going up the ladder and seeing the boys helm hoisted off his head by the spear tip going through the eye socket, brain matter and chunks of scalp slipping down the shaft of the weapon as it made its passage, relegated these thoughts to a distant past that seemed as if they belonged to another person entirely. And they did.
He didn't care as he was knocked sideways from the ladder by the sword blow to his shoulder that could have been easily blocked if he wasn't so distracted. He didn't care about the pain when he came down on the 3 men who broke his fall. He didn't care about the arrows hissing past him, thudding into the earth with a dull finality as he shambled out of the screaming throng of men massed around the walls of the Holy city. Cares were for a different man. There wasn't even sadness, just a shock so pervasive that there wasn't any feeling at all.

Sorry for the rags, all the tailors in the city are working day and night to make you a new dress.

>2/2
>And as he turned to look at the city, his detachment let him take in the whole scene for what it was. Men slowly gaining footholds at the top of ladders, heathens being ripped from the walls and thrown to the murderous masses below, the trebuchets slowly eroding the walls, the siege tower slowly creeping past the burning hulk of it's sister tower. It was then that he realized they were going to make it into this city. A month and eight days passed, all the hard fighting along the way, and his son who barely missed seeing all their efforts rewarded. Perhaps it was the realization of the siege ending, or a sadistic rage slowly building inside him, but he then thought of all the fathers who were about to lose THEIR sons. Mothers, their daughters. Siblings. Women and young girls who would be raped.

And then he felt his feeling come slowly back in the form of happiness.

The siege had ended; the massacre was about to begin.

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Look at it this way. If you want to fuck them after you kill them, I don't think anyones going to care.

>So uh. How long have you been here?
He flinched as the Demi-god turned her.. His.. It's? Morose gaze on him.
>I have been here since your kind threw down the gods, binding the divine to your twisted whims.
It's voice was was oddly calm and unaccusatory for the subject matter at hand.
>Oh. Wow, that's quite a long time. Sorry 'bout that! But huh. Seeing as it's just us two here, maybe we could strike a deal for your release?
He asked eagerly, shifting from one armored foot to the other.
>I've long since accepted my place within these chains... But if you were to set me free, I supposed you'd deserve some recompense. I have much that is with in my power, what would your desire be?
>Ah, well. I always wanted to try out eating out a giantess!
>Vaugely amused mostly disapproving stare.

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>Oh. That's why they call it the erect forest of hanged men.

This guy is about to learn the unpleasent truth about Gwyndolyn.

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I been there. Smaller than it looks

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Last one for now. Liking the thread so far, keep it up friends.

"I am an asian dwarf riding a turtle. Your argument is invalid"

The party glanced between themselves and the sight before them.
>Elven rouge:Twenty pieces says it's a trap
>Orcish Paladin:Betting is such a unsavory act. That said, twenty on it being some sort of temple to a long forgotten God.
>Young dragon:Fifty on it being some sort of art project of a bored wizard.
>Human Bone-dancer:My share of the loot on what ever it is being haunted.

The Yak was not one for pleasantries. In fact, he was quite content with himself causing a scene in Drogo's tavern. It skips the bull shit. The gangers noticed him immediately, and in one synchronized look, the reptiles turned their gaze to the bovine at the door. The Yak wasn't just unwanted, the Yak was an enemy.

The whole place reeked of swamp gas. This was reptile territory alright. The kommodos in the corner were the first to notice the intruder. The lizards and gators by the pool table curled their backs straight and puffed out their chest, toothpicks hanging from their lips. Snakes cut their drinking short to show their displeasure with the rest. But it was the gator, Ronnie who was going to be the problem.

"You got a lot of gall being here, Yak." The croc grumbled.

The snake joined in, "You ssss-hould leave before therez a problem, we don't accept no furies."

The tortoise removed the cigarette from his mouth, and with unwavering eyes croaked, "Don't bother, Marty. We already got a problem..."

>Dryads are the result of parasitic trees brought over from the fae realms that subjugate humans to become their attendants.

>The means by which they do this is varied. Some keep their spores in their fruit, some in the sharp thorns and briars that grown on the leaves and bark. However the means if not treated the victim feels intense nausea and will be drawn to the area of the plant that infected them at which point the plant will be stimulated to release a pollen like substance that coats the persons skin and, over time will cause their skin to become bark like.

>When not active then are always near the tree that infected them, often laying about it or on it. The oldest dryads becoming so plant like they can be still and would be nearly indistinguishable from the other plants

"He's at it again." Said the guard, looking at the scene before him with mild disgust.
"You'd think the even the King would be able to take a hint after this many no's, sighs, and uncomfortable frowns." The courtier said, shaking her head, not sure which of them to feel more sorry for.

The heroine looked down at the king, annoyed, but still kind, and smart enough, to not just tell him to fuck off.
"My dear! Your prowess, your talents, your power, your sheer breathtaking beauty! Surely you must see why I am so smitten with thee! Please, ignore my pleas no longer my love!"

>ifunny
>OMG guys, look at how cute this new Abmonation is! It's totally smiling! I bet it loves bacon and Ron Paul too! And it's just confused!
#Cute #Adorkable #Stopthemonsterkilling #ASmileADay

Out of the howling wind, a faint sound came, at first, furtive and cautious, feet on snow. Then, out of the veil of snow, a figure slowly took shape... Then two, and finally three. Hips swaying and hair blowing in the wind, it did not take a smart man to know these were women, and seconds later, to see that they were quite nude.

But Gerry did not want or need to be a smart man. He came to slay the Three Hag Sisters, wandering this god-forsaken forest for 3 days and 3 nights. Luring them. As the figures approached, their voices came through the howling, bitter wind, singing of warmth, comfort, and love.

But they fell on deaf ears, for, as soon as he heard the footfalls of these deadly beauties, Gerry stuffed his ears with beeswax. Sailors speak of sirens, and have their ale paid for by eager listeners, but rarely do people hearken to tales of hags and the final song every man hears before dying a gruesome death.

He drew his blade, and the illusion quickly faded. The beautiful, snow-white supple bodies with luscious hair flickered and faded to reveal matted hair and blood-spattered skin...

So any of the shit I wrote good for even half a giggle?

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OMG, so much Giftwish (and Catchfire) in this pic!

Doneval and Favila for us poorfags Spaniards.

Thanks user, so much memories.

>vileblood trying to pretend she's the good guy

Nice try.

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>They said it was against God

>They said it was against Communism

>They said it would not work.

>I tell them no, you are against God. You are against Communism. You would not work. Then I leave with barrel-wife strapped to back.

>Barrel-wife is heavy, but Pitor is strong. I will walk many miles to find new home for barrel-wife.

>My feet hurt.

>Dat file name
>Fuck Dynaheir

These dwellings were not made by Gnoll hands. A far older and smaller race built this long before the Gnolls took over the ruins.

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That map was easymode - give one guy at the front the best armor you have and everyone else bow or a slingshot.

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Give a competently built acher, either as a fighter in the original or a ranger subclass in Enchanced Edition. The map is full of choke points, long distances and easily exploitable areas that require a winding pattern to hit your characters.

As much as the proud Asgardians knew about the world they ruled, even when their power had slain the old gods and brought the fire of life to children of midgard, they still failed and fell.

Because who would think that an elder wyrm would disguise itself as a fucking cloud

I remember when I first saw this image, there was already a story tied to it.
It was about monsters known as 'canvas men', who were cloaked in the dried up skin of their victims. If you were to unwrap their 'cloaks', you would eventually just find a final empty layer of skin.

Source? It's clearly K6BD, but I don't recognize the scene.

As ever, the market place was thronged with noise and people. The happy chatter of locals mixed in with the odd tongues of foreign traders and explorers, the city being one of the few places in the country they were allowed to enter.
Misha looked up to see one such foreigner smile and flourish her new cape, inviting her to chat.
Today would be an interesting day.

bump

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Giantess helps soldiers rest by getting in the shadow of her massive cape

They listened to fools and now the mob rules

There was something always eerie about the calm after a fire fight. The world just never seemed the same again afterwards. The muzzle flashes the blinded the eyes (not a bother with flare protection), the drowning staccato of machine fire (filtered out by selective hearing mods), the dull thud of bullets pounding into your body (I can only keep the pain receptors off for so long, this is gunna hurt like a bitch later).

Regardless, the 5 or so seconds of fury was over and now I'm wondering if these assholes have anything worth fencing to pay for the repairs

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Does she represent a power to come? Does she stand for a power that once was? We may never know, because she literally never moves. However, legislation is underway to prevent soldiers from armies stationed in the area making detours to look up her skirt.

The man sat on the sagging couch, eyeing the blood puddle that seeped into the cushion beside him.
It was to be a quite night in his small apartment suite was it not for the woman that hid in his bathroom now.

When he had opened the door to a panicked knock, he was taken aback by the horrific sight in his doorway; a woman, seemingly in her late twenties or so, hunched over and supporting herself against the frame.

She was clad in a form-fitting black suit made of some sort of synth-leather and polymer, an outfit that was now ruined by large tears that leaked blood. As he opened the door further, she stepped in with an unexpected grace and speed for someone in her state. She stumbled about his living room, her form lurching to the left; to the right, sprinkling drops of blood into the matted shag carpet, until finally collapsing on the old couch.

The man had quickly shut the door and approached her cautiously. He knew she was hurt, by only God knows what, but she seemed to be in better shape than one would be in with that much blood seeping from her wounds. She lay on the arm of the couch, her torso bowed over the arm, with her legs bent dainty behind her and her arms and face crumpled on the cushion.

He stepped around her and the couch, still fearing what may happen if he provoked her. On the other side of the couch, he stooped slightly to peer at her face, trying to peer past her wall of arms. In that moment, the woman's head rose, slowly; tiredly, and returned his stare. Instinctively, the man backed away from her, something in his gut telling him that this bloodied woman was, or posed to be, a threat to himself.

The stranger's fair skinned face, framed by short raven hair and highlighted by dark eyes, was marred by a gash across the bridge of her nose and a fat lip that pursed with pain. After a long second, her bruised mouth opened and uttered a question.

"Bathroom?"

>meh, I'll continue later maybe.

Clint Eastwood grinned and chuckled to himself as he drove his power-sword upwards into the Khornate space marine's heart through his stomach. Heavy bolter rounds whizzed around him in the sandy air, from both the front and the rear. The Ultramarines behind him had trouble aiming at the Chaos scum, so impressed were they by Eastwood's badassery.

Another traitor marine charged at Eastwood with his chainaxe. The weapon roared as the heretic made an overhead swing with both hands at Eastwood, who coolly sidestepped away and severed one heretic arm with an underhanded cut, then another with a downward swing.

"Looks like you've been disarmed," Eastwood quipped before thrusting his sword through the heretic's forehead, then kicking him to the ground while letting his blood-soaked blade slide back out.

Eastwood felt a tingle in the back of his neck. He ducked and looked upward, watching as a power-axe the size of a small tree trunk whooshed in the air from behind him. In a flash, he whipped himself around. It was a Khornate terminator, dual-wielding power axes. The ping-pang of Ultramarine bolter rounds from behind made the Khornate terminator laugh. A bolter round that glanced off the terminator's inner thigh grazed Eastwood's right quadriceps, making him wince slightly. Unable to move his leg freely, he could only raise his sword up to meet the dual overhanded swing of the terminator's power-axes. The huge weapons slammed down on Eastwood's sword, and although the shock that vibrated through Eastwood's bones was enough to shatter the skeletons of lesser men, Eastwood stood firm.

Eastwood looked up to the heavens, and in divine reverence, he whispered, "The Emperor protects." He then shoved the axes up from off his blade, and as the Chaos terminator stumbled backward, Eastwood wound himself up to throw his sword like a javelin. With utmost precision and cool, he unleashed his throw, and the blade struck dead center in the terminator's chest, making it fall backward and explode in a maelstrom of fire and gore.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, Eastwood looked over his shoulder. The traitor marines were routing behind him, leaving a heavy cloud of dust in their wake.

A copy of the Adeptus Astartes was dropped down on the ground in front of Eastwood from a temporary rift in the Warp. He chuckled to himself, then unzipped his jeans, and urinated all over the tome for all the Ultramarines to see. The Ultramarines would use the Adeptus Astartes' pages as toilet paper from then onward.

Damn, I meant the Codex Astartes.

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Long ago, there was a great kingdom the North... I believe they called it, Drangleic...