Storythread

The fortnightly Storythread returns, by some amazing coincidence two weeks to the day after the previous one was posted. The stars must have aligned just right, or something.

If you have Veeky Forums related stories to post, post them here, and hopefully some kind user will give you feedback (or at least acknowledge that someone did actually read it, which let's face it is what writefags really want).

If you don't have a story ready then I and other anons will be posting pictures throughout the thread for you to test your writing skills on. This is, more or less, a world-building and character-building exercise: two vital skills for playing roleplaying games. If you don't have any pics to post, you could try posting an idea for a setting or a character, and maybe someone will be willing to write a story using it. It's also an exercise in writing though, where writefags can try out their material and gain inspiration, so if you just want to talk about world-building save it for the world-building threads.

Remember that writefags love to have feedback on their work. Writing takes a long time, especially stories that go over several posts, and it can be really depressing when no one even seems to read it (and the writer won't know you read it unless you leave a comment).

And since writing takes a long time remember to keep the thread bumped. Pics are good, feedback is better.

last week's thread can still be found in the catalogue here if you have any comments or anything about the stories there
And finally, don't forget to check out past stories on our wiki page:
1d4chan.org/wiki/Storythread

Other urls found in this thread:

docs.google.com/document/d/1fC1TACtbBVL9ko-KOQTrJdxB_s6sIVSCVypU_5C1JL4/edit
twitter.com/SFWRedditImages

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D->Hey Setve
S->Yes Dors?
D->I think they forgot about us.
S->What ever gave you that idea friend?
D->The fact that we're skeletons and haven't received any transmissions in the last five hundred years.
S->Hmm. You may be right.
D->Back to waiting then I guess.
S->Hmm, yes, I suppose.

As its juices run down over the chassis covering my feeder I feel a deep sense of accomplishment. It is a sensation that always follows a successful hunt. The endangered has been chased, stalked, speared, and killed. Its heart, its liver, its brain, and its bones have been fed into me and the precious genetic codes of each part are being analysed, catalogued, databased and prepared for upload inside my own vessel.
And when it is uploaded, It will be preserved.
Kyark will be pleased.
The need to hunt is a strange need. Fractal knowledge from the web, from what little of the web which still operates, bubbles to the surface. Fractal: Hunting serves many functions, practical and recreational. For me it serves both functions. Kyark has revealed to me that there is no more efficient way of preserving a creature's genetic code than tearing into its spine and drinking the fluid within, and to fulfil that procedure is my only recreation.
I am aware of my forebears. They hunted also. But they hunted only to preserve themselves, I hunt in order to preserve all.
The face of the newly saved is lupine in nature, with some kind of horn and pale blue down. It does not match anything in my database. No fractal memory surfaces to update my information. It is a new creature. This has been a fruitful hunt indeed. I will need to hunt and consume many more of these creatures in order to fully preserve them.
The information has been compiled. A new sensation troubles me. Fractal: An itch. Itch. I vocalise it, ‘Etch’, the very sound of it is scratchy and unpleasant. Is it an itch? It is the need to make an upload, but I cannot find Kyark in this wilderness. I have a signal booster on the mudflats.

The world is green. My forebears saw in colour and therefore so do I, but they could not have known what a limitation it would be. I recall an early memory. There was little green then. Mostly brown. There seemed to be fewer hues of brown in the past than there is green in the present. Green is at the centre of the visible spectrum. Why?
At the signal booster I place the head of the blue-fur-horned-lupine on a sharpened spear. There are many such head-bearing sharpened spears around the signal booster. I arrange them there, to remind me what has and has not been preserved. Fractal: Totem. Ritual. Superstition. But the superstitious know not what they do, and I act only out of practicality.
There is a small upright-mammal waiting for me. I have seen these before. In the past I have consumed 1439 of them, and have acquired an immense databank of their genetic profiles. They are complicated, hard to hunt, unpleasant creatures.
“Hello there.” It says.
“Hello.” I reply.

"God curse this. Lousy piece of worthless tech. Third time this week it's transported me to the wrong plane." She glances around at the sullen, uninterested people making their way through the heavy, obscuring fog.

"You there!" She calls out to man who appears to be busy contemplating the swirling grey fog before him. "Where am I?" She growls, annoyed at her distasteful surroundings and the lack of respect being shown.

Glancing towards her, the man rolls his eyes and grunts, "Nowhere, Earthen plane three thousand six hundred and five." His bored tone and subsequent return to ignoring her in favor of the cloud bank telling her all she needed to know.

"I swear this place turns into something dreary everytime I stumble into it." She complains, yanking her portal string, and disappearing in a flash of holy light.

“Awful rain, yes?” It shows me its teeth. Threat? Is the rain awful? I do not feel it. My chassis is proofed against the oxidising power of water exposure, my electronics sealed against its disruptive effects. I found that the rain could disrupt my sensors, cause the greens to run into each other and blur, until I fashioned a visor out of a large skull.
I recall that this made the upright-mammals even harder to hunt. After thirty-three trials with the skull efficiency had dropped by 3% while hunting them, but had improved overall. A fair trade.
“True, it is raining.” I reply, “Move aside. I must speak to Kyark.”
“I saw you earlier. I’ve been watching you.” It stepped aside slightly, its fur pasted to its head, its down sodden and muddy. It did imply long exposure to the rain, “Why did you eat that Antewolf? Were you hungry?”
“Hungry?” Fractal: In need of sustenance. Sustenance: A source of strength, Was I hungry? Is that what hungry is? “Yes.”
“You’re all full up now though?” It tilted its head, “Not hungry?”
“No. I have acquired the necessary genetic materials for now. Once I have made my upload I will excrete the remains and hunt again.”
“‘Excrete the remains?’” It bleated, “Wait, you can take a dump?”
Can I take a dump? Dumps are necessary at regular intervals. The web coverage is not what it once was. My internal cache was only designed to sustain so much information.
“Yes, by design I regularly undertake an annual data dump.”
It began to emit a rapid, high-pitched series of bleats, which I recognised as echolocation. I felt a new sensation kindle inside of me. I have preserved thirty-two species which used a form of echolocation, but never one of the upright-mammals. Was this a new genetic development? Did it need to be preserved?

Fractal: Giggling, a form of laughter, an expression of amusement.
“You find me amusing?” I asked.
“You-...” It continued to giggle, “You-...”
“What I do for Kyark above is vital.” I turned my sensors to the night sky, “I preserve the genetic diversity of the planet, I protect it against the danger of environmental collapse, the Earth is dying…”
Is the Earth dying? There is much green. I recall increasing amounts of green throughout my memories. How old am I? Without the web tracking time has become more difficult. Memories must be partitioned, cached, dumped, or else unacceptable system failure becomes imminent. The stars. I count them, and see their places in the universe.
Over three centuries.
The upright-mammal has stopped its bleating. I look at it again. It has adapted to survive in this new environment. All of my consumption of its species occurred during the death throes of Earth. Perhaps he is a new genetic development. It stands fewer than three metres away, I could catch it with my hands and crush its skull in a second. It does not seem as flighty or as hard to catch as its forebears.
I watch as it sprouts some new appendage, an extension of one of its arms. It is definitely a new development. A new form of the species. It must be preserved. A fractal memory tries to warn me of some danger.
“Do you know you’re not the first robot I’ve encountered?” It says. “You’re the biggest, and probably the most malfunctional, but not the first. Oh no.”
Before I can move to consume it something happens. There is a flash of lightning, and then I reboot. The night sky has faded completely and daylight has come. My appendages are frozen.
The upright-mammal appears. It is now taller than me.

“I’ve disconnected everything except your main power cable.”
“You are a hunter too.” I say.
“I suppose.” It disappears again and I am left staring at the sky. I cannot see the stars to judge the time. Is Kyark still there?
Is Kyark still watching over me?
“Will you preserve me?” I ask.
The human reappears in my vision, “No.”

Thanks for reading

>This is Snapper Car, reporting directly from downtown Mesdoplish. Today marks the third day the city has been without color after engineer from a utilities company tripped a weapon left by the supervillain Crazy Quilt.

Efforts from the Justice League have so far failed to return normality, by the organization promises they have their best and brightest working on it.

Back to you Linda.

that was very interesting

>This is totally a followup to another story from last thread. Seriously, this image was tempting me to.

Hey Mom and Dad,

Had somebody told me three years ago, while I was crying over your graves, that I'd not only learn to forgive Atlantis for killing you but also fall in love with a citizen there, I'd have probably slapped them. More likely though, I'd probably just look at them with pity, wondering how they could be so hopeful that things would turn out so well.
But, crazily enough, things did get better. I may not have met your friend Tamarath, but I did save his daughter from a fate worse than death. Her name is Pera and I've fallen in love with her. The government wanted to dissect her so they could learn the biology of Atlanteans, and despite it being stupid, ignorant, even illegal, I broker her out of there. Well, me and Doctor Harjer. He respected you enough to give me your last letter and let us go.
I hope I didn't disappoint you by falling in love with a girl, but Pera saved me as much as I did her. When I met her, I was bitter, hateful, and I might as well have been dead to the world. All they needed was my face, the rest they just cast aside. Pera was the first person who needed me to help them. She wasn't some boy who wanted to pity me and be the hanger-on as he became the hero who avenged the deaths of her parents. Pera was just like me: she didn't want our people at war, and her parents were sacrificed just so that could happen. It hurt me to know that she was being hurt by the scientists to avenge you, for a purpose she never believed in, especially when she could smile like she does. I think her smile was the one thing I wanted to protect, just like how my smile was the one thing she wanted.

Ever since we fled that facility, I've been spending my time teaching her English and politics. It helps that she knew a little bit, but if we plan on talking to people about our position, she'll be needing more.

something something the decadence of the upper class
something something hedonism
something something batman

Our plan to protest the war has been gathering ground, at least. Although I haven't been able to go to many of these protests without leaving Pera behind, Dr. Harjer's been helpful with coordinating events, getting us a webpage and forum to coordinate and even covering our presence from the government. I appreciate everything he's done for us, including helping keep your beach lab running.

I know I've gotten braver without you, but I still miss you. I wish for a hundred thousand things I wish I could've done with you, and I especially wish I could have presented Pera to you. Instead, I hope these letters will be enough, and I hope that you can watch over us in heaven while we try to do what you would have wanted and promote peace between humans and Atlanteans.

I really love you both. Thanks for everything.

Your daughter,

Saki

>
>

I put down the book. The letter took me longer than expected.
I leave the house through the master bed's balcony to find that Pera's still asleep. It's fine anyway, the coast looks really nice here. It's quiet, the sun's position was such that it cast a creeping shadow on the world that was losing grip to the light.

I hear the garage door open to find a giant fish tank getting wheeled out. Doctor Harjer wasted no time getting into the mood of things as he got a really garish red shirt and a straw hat.
"You still had time, Saki," he observes. "Why don't you go back inside, get changed? Today's the big day, after all."

He was right. Today we were going to take our first voyage into Atlantis. We had a stolen military-issue respirator and fins prepared so that I could join Pera; it's funny how many things sprang about because of war and how few of them were actually used for the military. With this I'd be able to breathe underwater just like her. Our hope was that we'd be able to meet with someone, maybe even begin protests here too.
I ask, "But what do I wear? I don't think I have a dress I'd like to get dirty underwater."

I'm bored as fuck, someone post a prompt and I'll write about it.

Prompt: The Northmen are losing the war, and in desperation go to break the Bone King's chains and wake him so that he can save them from their enemies. A dangerous, desperate act - will it save them, or destroy them utterly?

Pera sneaks her head over the tank. "Um, Saki. We do not wear clothing." Just as to demonstrate her point, she lifts herself over the tank, revealing her own small breasts. The scars of experimentation have mostly faded, but there are still a few all over her body that are somewhat visible.
"P-Pera!" I gasp as I cover myself. "I can't do that right here! I told you that's only when we're alone!"
Harjer, embarrassed by being the only man, interjects, "Well, there is that prototype tail. It doesn't really look like the real deal up close, but..."
"The respirator's already obvious enough, doctor," I reply.
Pera asks, "But we are going to be alone, and I'll make sure to protect Saki in case anyone tries to-"
"Now, now, that's mighty nice of you Pera!" he cuts off a potentially embarrassing argument. "But I believe that this should be her decision."

It's already weird to think that I just threw myself onto her after we got freed, and despite not caring about it then, I am conscious about people seeing my body, especially strangers. Just thinking about having all of those fish people, who never saw a human before, just looking at places that I've only bared to one other person... It feels like everything is closing in, just trying to -
"Saki, I'm sorry if this...embarrasses you," she took a bit of effort to remember how to conjugate the word. "I forgot that people worried about such things. In our culture, we do not have clothes like you recognize them. It is so we can swim without trouble"
"I'll say, you shameless girl!" Pera blushes at the idea. "But...um, I want to respect your traditions. As soon as he goes away...I'll do it."
I lift Pera out of the tank while Harjer rolls the tank back in. "Fine, fine," he grumbles. "Don't make me the criminal over something like this."
She kisses me as soon as the door closes. "To be honest Saki, I am also nervous. After all, I don't want them to know you like I do."

>Green Lantern is just Lantern now.
>Same for Arrow.

This... I like this. Also reminds of me Alucard's release in Hellsing Ultimate.

A wizard comes for Edgard, a young potato farmer. Edgard was given the farm when he came of age, but the lawyer had no idea where the instructions or deed came from. The wizard has come to collect him because the king is dead and despite being a bastard he is now the rightful heir.
>Edgard likes potato farming and doesn't want to go.

Her smile was accentuated by the curve of her eyebrows into looking almost seductive. To think I had rescued such a temptress... "He's gone," she then points out. "If you really want, you can take it off." I check over the breathing apparatus as we put it on: It was not only a mouthpiece which filtered out oxygen in the water, but it also combined goggles and an earpiece. I click the headset and I hear a beep.
"Testing, testing," I announce. "Doctor, how am I?"
"Perfect." Harjer replies over the headset. "I'll be keeping an eye through your goggles; they have a camera built-in that can survive the trip. If anything happens, warn Pera."
"Understood."
"Good luck."

I turn off the set to save battery.
"Pera," I get her attention, "I want you to undress me." She nods. The first thing she does is unbutton my shirt, exposing the two-piece swimwear I have underneath. She then undoes the top to that, and the delicate red cloth floats to the ground. I set her down and she removes my shirt, revealing my upper body. Although my skin was paler than hers, and she praises it as beautiful, it still held scars. There were times where I cut my wrists back when my parents died just so I could meet them sooner. The pain of the loss was too much for my heart back then. I was only stopped when the publicists sent me to military counseling. It was the start of my apathy to the world. They just wanted me as a face.
She gently draws her lips towards the scars and lightly kisses them. "Please don't worry, Saki," she coos assuringly. "Even if everyone sees your body, nobody will ever kiss your scars like this."
I stand up to see her loosen my skirt and lower the last two pieces of clothing on me. As they fell, she drew closer to my legs, coating them in that clammy feeling. "And even if they see Saki's most precious place, only I will ever know what it's like in here."
I fold up my clothes and place them closer to the door.

I want smut fags to go

The clouds parted for a moment, the icy rays of the winter sun illuminated a figure of bleached bone, sprawled upon a crude throne. The bitter wind whipped down from the north, Zira pulled he cloak tight, and grabbed her father's leg. The king paused for a moment, and then ruffled her hair with a weathered hand. "Steel yourself young one, The King of Bones doesn't suffer the weak." His voice was calm and soothing. Zira sniffled, then released his leg, and the procession trudged onwards.

The throne took shape on the horizon. No songs or stories broke the oppressive silence that had settled on the party. Zira's eyes flitted between the faces of the company, hoping that one of them would smile, crack a joke, say something, anything, to let her know it would be alright. Instead, she only saw grim resignation. Her mother, her brothers, her sister, they all seemed to know something she didn't, and whatever it was, it scared them. Zira couldn't understand it, they were all mighty warriors, anointed by the spirits, what could they possibly fear? Even Hrondral seemed to be lost in thought.

Zira sidled up to her brother, and tugged on his coat sleeve. The giant looked down at her, and forced himself to smile. "Yes?"

"W-why is everyone so scared?" She asked, looking up at Hrondral with wide eyes.

He paused for a moment, then stroked his beard. "Gn--," he caught himself, "Father, needs to speak with the King of Bones, it's very dangerous..."

Zira kicked a piece of ice, sending it skittering across the snow. "Is he bad?"

Hrondral thought for a moment. "No. He's our guardian and protector, he created these lands from the bones of a great beast, then gifted them to us. He's very old, and very powerful."

"Is this because of the bad people?"

He nodded. "They seek to take this land from us, they wish to steal away the gift he gave us." A blast of icy wind swept across them, Hrondral held his sister close until it passed.

feel free to not read it. Or indeed, fill up the thread with your own writing

>rule 1 of these threads: people who aren't writing don't get to complain about the people who are

Requesting this action-babe who's chaotic-neutral taking up a rather shady quest from grey moral people.

I return to hear Pera praying in some strange tongue. Before I could ask what she was saying, she kisses me and then puts the respirator on. Once I finish putting on the flippers, we both set out to the ocean.

The pictures that my parents sometimes showed me of the ocean fail to grasp just how massive it is. Even the countless documentaries I've seen just showing the reefs don't quite explain how massive an interweaving tapestry this entire floor is. Fish don't just swim from one place to another, they move like it's a massive body system, with everything reacting just to accept us. The colors looked like I was still watching those movies, each one was vibrant and it just stood out.
But what was even more incredible than the reef was just the open ocean. I remember hearing that when astronauts went to train for space that they went into giant pools to get used to moving in their suits. As we reached the deep ocean, I could only think about being in space, just floating in a giant blanket of all-consuming darkness and sparkles. That fish were still swimming through here like nothing just reminded me of how far from my element I was.

I can't remember how long we were out there, swimming in the abyss, but eventually we came across a tree, just standing out there in the middle of the ocean. I remember that it was a short-sided plan by some politician who knew nothing about how science worked. He thought putting a tree on an island literally made of trash was somehow going to make the trash go away. It wasn't until he was booted from office until they established a more effective measure. Of course, this tree wasn't supposed to last any longer than it did, so why did it...
My answer came once I realized that the tree was lodged in something else: a cage. It looked almost like an egg by the way it was shaped.
"Saki," Pera stopped. "This is Atlantis. I know I warned you about how they feel about people, but please. Let me take care of this." I nodded.

After a few minutes, the wind died down and the procession continued on. Hrondral continued. "Father hopes the King will honor his word, and return the land to us, but..." his voice trailed off.

Zira scrunched up her nose and thought for a few moments. "If he protects us, why wouldn't he help?" She asked.

Her brother sighed. "He doesn't protect us, he protects the land. Once awakened he will destroy the unworthy. Don't know whether that will include us. The King of Bones is a powerful Fae, he is unpredictable at the best of times. That's why grandmother and her warriors chained him to the throne."

"Hold!" Her father called out from the front of the procession. Zira looked up, and gasped, they had nearly reached the base of the throne. Shattered shields, and broken weapons lay scattered around in all directions, the remnants of her family's battle with the King. Hrondral placed a heavy hand on her shoulder.

Zira watched as her mother approached the throne, and began to read from a thick scroll. The words were beautiful, like something out of a long forgotten dream. Zira hadn't heard the language before, but could understand every word of the incantation. It was an invitation. "Feytongue," Hrondral whispered to her. "Mother would have taught you to speak it when, when you turned twelve."

As suddenly as it began, the incantation was finished. The wind died down, the ravens fell silent, the clouds seemed to freeze in place. The land itself waited with baited breath for its master's reply.

Care for anyone to make a write of this?

Rogue Woman visits her teen noble boy friend who's very happy to see her and she's also happy to see him too.

I also pointed to the earpiece and camera, both of which Harjer was looking through. "Alright, Doctor," she continued, "Welcome to my home. Hopefully, we have evaded a patrol."
As we dove down, I felt what was almost like a headache coming on. It was hard to move with something pressing down on me as I went deeper in, but thankfully Pera grabbed onto me and pushed me into the bubble. As I shook myself, Pera grabbed my arm and started swimming. "I forgot; the city is surrounded in a field. We can easily go through it, but it allows the water to not crush us because we are deep in." They made a field to control water pressure? That's...incredible!

As we went further in, both of us heard a sobbing. We swam over to find what looked like a young fish-boy, looking no older than 10. He was crying. Pera looked at him and asked him something. Although she taught me a lot about the Atlantean language, it's a lot more complex than English, perhaps even harder than Japanese. Perhaps it might have helped if there were a book there; hopefully we can find one. Well, anyway, the conversation seems to drain something from the dear as she turns to me with a scared look. "This boy..." she utters, "his parents are gone. Dead from war."

Another me.
The sensation of looking at a mirror scares me. Even if he looked nothing like me, he definitely was headed down that path. I impulsively drew him towards me, and I hummed from behind my mask. The boy looks up and then pokes the mask. He asks something, probably who I was. I don't know what she said, but Pera did mention my name and I think I remember the term 'Ibasandya', which I recall her saying stood for 'Beloved One.' He looks at us both and then says something. She mentions something else, pointing at him at certain points, and then then asks something. The boy looks at us and then mutters something. Pera smiles.
"I asked him if he thinks this war is justified. He agrees that it isn't."

Max sat there, propping her feet up on the adjacent seat. The whiskey burned its way down her throat. The man in the greatcoat stayed silent. He didn’t take off his sunglasses.

“If you’re looking for some tail, tall guy,” she said, “you should start with offering me a drink. Or at least, you know, talking.” She tried to talk over the obnoxious techno music blaring through the place.

“Ms. Chambers?” the man finally asked.

“It’s Max,” she corrected. “And who’s asking?”

“I am,” the man said. Max rolled her eyes. “I was told I could find you here.”

Max finished off her drink. She grimaced. “Who told you?”

“An interesting character named Bingo,” the man said. “He said you have a fast ship and tight lips. Not the only thing about you he called tight, but the only thing relevant right now.” The man looked disgusted.

Goddamn Bingo. “Well Bingo shouldn’t be namedropping me like that,” Max said. She leaned forward. “Alright, let’s cut the crap pal. Are you with Raz? I’m gettin’ his money. Tell him to back off.” Slowly, she drew Penelope from its holster. She held it under the table. “Or are you some kinda fed?”

The man reached into his coat. Max pulled Penelope from under the table and held it at his chest. The man’s eyebrows arched above his glasses, but his face didn’t break. He raised his free hand and slowly drew out his other. It clutched a small, bulging black bag. He set it gently on the table.

Max lowered Penelope. She reached across and grabbed the bag, upending it. Dozens of plat chips fell onto the table. Her heart skipped a beat. She picked one up. Didn’t look marked. She dropped it back on the pile. She drooled.

The skeleton remained motionless on the throne, the only sound was the faint rattling of the chains.

"What brings you here, Oathbreakers?" The voice was not at all what Zira had imagined, it was soft and melodic, with a sharp crackling undertone, like the sound of wind through dry leaves.

Her father knelt, and the rest of her family quickly followed suit. Zira felt Hrondral force her to the ground along with them, "keep your head bowed, don't look at him." He hissed.

Her father responded. "Oh King, we come seeking your aid. Your land is overrun by thieves and interlopers, we require your assistance to drive them away."

There was silence, then the valley began to echo with bitter rasping sound. After a moment, Zira realized it was laughter. She covered her ears, trying to drown out the horrible sound, but it was no use. An eternity later, the laughter died down, and the voice returned. "You would dare to ask me for assistance?" The bones creaked as the King looked down at them. "You betrayed me and left me here."

"My King, we are all the remains of those who wronged you," her mother said, "we accept whatever p-," her voice cracked, "punishment you feel is just. All we ask is that you deliver our people from the hands of their enemies."

"Well now..." Zira could hear the rattling oh the chains, and the groaning of the stone, as the King rose to his feet. "I accept your offer."

Zira reached out a hand to her brother, and found only cold stone. She stifled a gasp. "Rise, child." The King almost sounded gentle. She closed her eyes, covered her ears, and wished it would all go away."Rise. I will not ask again." Zira swallowed her fear, and stood up. Eyes still tightly closed, and head bowed. "Your family's sin has yet to taint you, you played no part in keeping me here. For that, I will let you keep your life. However, you were still offered to me. I wonder, what shall I do with you?"

Zira whimpered.

“This is just a consulting fee,” the man said, snapping her out of her reverie. “For your time. Bingo said you value your time. I promise there’ll be much more where that came from.”

Max vowed to give Bingo the biggest, wettest kiss she could manage the next time she saw him. Assuming he showered by that point.

“So, can we do business, Ms. Chambers?” the man asked.

“Buddy, name the fucking job,” she holstered Penelope and started shuffling the plat back into the bag.

“I understand you have a ship,” the man said. “A fast ship. A low-key ship.”

Max smirked. “The Black Knight’s the fastest ship in the Fringe, tall guy,” she said. “Most dangerous one too. You need something moved, it’ll be well-protected. You need something dead, they won’t know what hit ‘em.”

The man cocked his head. “My employers will be happy to hear that,” he said. “Indeed, we already know about your ship, Ms. Chambers. We’re well aware of what it can do. And we know where you got it.”

That unnerved Max. Now the “consulting fee” was making a bit more sense. He was blackmailing her, and trying to act nice about it. She kept her cool. “We all get our ships from somewhere, friend,” she said. “Okay, so what am I moving and where is it going?”

“You’ll be taking it to my contact at Footfall,” the man said. Max’s stomach dropped. He wasn’t serious.

“Throwing me to the lions there, buddy,” she said. “You do know what’s there, right?”

“If the patrols there are beyond your abilities to outmaneauver we can look somewhere else,” he said. He smirked. Max scowled.

“I can handle any run, pal,” she said. “I just hope you understand the situation you’re putting me in. That kind of work won’t come cheap.”

“My courier will give you three thousand when he delivers the package to your ship, Ms. Chambers,” he said. Max’s eyes widened. “And my contact at Footfall will give you another ten on delivery.”

Thirteen fucking thousand. At that price, this guy could twist her arm behind her back all he wanted. The consulting fee was good, but nowhere near enough for Raz to let her off the hook. She kept him waiting much longer it won’t be long until his guys actually show up. “I think I can make that work,” she said. Her voice cracked. “So what am I moving?”

“That is strictly confidential,” the man said. He folded his hands. “And that detail is non-negotiable. It will arrive in a sealed container with extensive security redundancies.”

Max balked at that. The price was too good, but…well, no one put anything on the Black Knight without Max Chambers knowing what it was. Now things started smelling really weird. “Sting” popped into her mind again. “Hold on, tall stuff,” she said. “That’s not gonna fly. You want it moved, I gotta know what it is. And that’s ‘non-negotiable’.”

The man stood up. “Then I’m afraid our business is done, Ms. Chambers,” he said. Max’s stomach dropped. “You can keep the platinum. Consulting fee, after all. And my employer knows some people who’ll be relieved to know you found their ship. They might even reward you for it.” He started to walk away.

Max wasn’t standing for that. She stood up and pointed Penelope at him. “Over my dead goddamn body, pal,” she said.

He turned. His face remained a mask. “That can be arranged, Ms. Chambers,” he said. “I thought you someone who loved her ship more than her life.” Max squinted. Several men walked out of the crowd. They had guns. “My offer still stands, Ms. Chambers,” he said. He smiled. Max almost shot him right there.

Finally she lowered Penelope. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll move your shit.” The man kept his smirk and stretched out his hand. Max took it and shook hard.

“We’ll be in touch, Ms. Chambers,” he said. He turned and walked away. His goons disappeared.

Max sat back down at the booth. She poured another glass of whiskey and stared into it. Then she threw it back and sucked it down.

From what she said, I'm guessing that she's now explaining that I don't want this war either. I remember her saying something about a council long ago, that they were the ones that called Atlantis to war. I don't know how a bunch of kids are supposed to protest their own hierarchy, but I'm guessing that it's about as easy as having a bunch of college students protesting the war as me and Dr. Harjer did with a circuit of speeches. We had Pera appear for a few of them, and it managed to convince enough of them to start a network.
I snap out of my memories as Pera drags me into a darker, more circular sac, suspended from below. From the openings in them, I guessed that these were homes. As we climbed inside, I see a bunch more of Atlanteans, all of them looking no older than Pera or me. It took only an instant to figure it out: These were all orphans. I couldn't tell if they were orphans of war or of some political sabotage, but I could tell that they needed someone. My lover understood it immediately and began asking them. The boy (I think his name was Hokiu) says something, maybe to say that I was friendly. They then crowded around me, grabbing me. It felt weird having all those hands on me, but before I could remember the feeling of being cornered, Pera cuts them off and saves me. She kisses my forehead and warns them to be careful about touching her lover.
The others apologize, but then she asks them to repeat something: "I'm sorry. I want to be your friend. My name is..." I'm surprised at how easily they picked it up and before long, they each apologize to me in English. Encouraged, she then teaches them some other phrases, ways to introduce themselves and talk about some basic textbook situations like the weather.

Of course, I suppose that it was far too easy to think that some eager kids were the worst of it. I notice from the edge of my eyesight a larger fish tail. Panic sets in as I make a push, but that gives me away. I can hear him shouting.

The King said nothing, then reached out a finger, and touched Zira on the forehead. She stifled a yelp as the touch burned her. "You are now marked as my servant." the King said softly, "neither man nor beast will harm you, for fear of my wrath."

There was a rush of wind, and Zira was alone.

I'm kind of in agreement about the smut going though. wst got blacklisted for whatever reason, we don't need storythread to get the same. I remember a month or so ago a couple of them were deleted, so I feel like the thread is on shaky ground.

Also I'm not really enjoying it but whatever. Different strokes for different folks.

Inclined to agree with this. I love reading and contributing to this thread and already have (Max Chambers). I don't really relish the idea of it becoming WST 2: Electric Boogaloo.

That was good. I'm having fun imagining a group of PCs stumbling into her a decade later as she picks through the remains of a camp of the invaders. I'd write more but it's ypur character so I'll shut up.

a smutty story or two isn't going to kill the thread. If every other story was porn I might see your point, but we have a reasonable mix atm.

My guiding principle here is that these threads are for all writefags. You just get on with your thing and let them get on with their thing, and if you don't want to read their stories you don't have to.

Before he could reach me, Pera intercepts and asks what the problem is. As I peer out from over an edge, I can see the first set of anything resembling clothing here: My pursuer was wearing a large pointed helmet and bracers, with only a thin strip of cloth connecting the bracers to a belt.
The man says something alluding to me, an outsider, being here. Pera deflects the accusation and assures him that only kids are here and she saw no intruders. He then asks her name, which Pera answers. She says that she's responsible for these children. He seems to buy it and turns away, but before he does, he asks one last question. Pera's reaction seems to mean that it's something unexpected, but she makes up an excuse.

"Saki," she rushes to me after the guard leaves, "I don't like where this is going. I don't know if they still remember my family, but I can tell they're on the lookout for anyone protesting." She grabs my arm. "I think we should leave now!" I agree. Such a close call isn't something I want to experience again, especially down here.

Though Pera was right, she definitely did not expect a pack of guards, all armed. The first few threw tridents with such force they nearly graze me. Then the last one breaks the respirator, leaving me choking for air.
It's a terrible joke, suffocating in a world I was fighting to protect. My vision was blacking out as I tried to hold my breath as best I could, and...for a moment, I could swear that I could hear my parents. I wonder what they felt in those last moments: Betrayal? Futility? Lost hope? Were they thinking of me?

When next I could see, I was gasping for air in the middle of the ocean. I couldn't see the tree, but I could see Pera crying on my shoulder.
"Saki! Saki, I'm sorry!" she's sobbing as we're above water. "I didn't see you until too late! I was scared that you died! I don't know what would have happened if you died!"

I'd agree but half the posted writing all belongs to the same smut story, which began in a previous thread leaving anyone who wasn't there with no foundation. I skimmed through and I guess there is a prude lesbian who had sex with a tailless mermaid who was experimented on? I think the fake tail mightve been for the lesbian though. Also I skipped the letter because that intro has always been too cringe for me, so maybe that had a recap.

Anywho, enjoyin the other stories. Wish I wasn't stuck on a phone so I could contribute more than idle bitching. Have a picture?

Heh.

I'm glad someone got what I was going for. I was afraid it was too subtle. And feel free to write whatever.

Well, they're all blind now.

"Thank you, Pera." I don't think I had all my senses there, but I had enough to kiss her. "Now I owe you again."
"Again?"
I smile. "Do you remember? Before I met you, I had given up on living. You smiled, and your smile made me want to live again." I wrap my arms around her. "And I remember, when I was facing down that barricade just praying that if I died, that you'd join me."
Pera stops. "I don't think it would be fair to risk you like that."
"You're right. Our lives are too precious for that now."

I took the rest of the journey on Pera's back, tired but alive. The next morning Harjer came to go over the footage. By and large, he's hopeful that this would be a start of a protest movement in the sea. Pera agreed to possibly getting the two fronts together, though I'm not quite sure how to arrange it yet. It's another step forward though, and that's what matters.

>
>
[Translated (roughly) from Atlantean Script]
Dearest Father,

I am hoping that you are resting peacefully in the holy ground below us. I am not sure how I am to send this to you, but I am told that this is for personal reasons.

You were right about humans: they do have a great potential to help us. When I was kidnapped, one human proved that they had the ability to care for someone not of their own blood.
I am now living with this person, who has proven to be irreplaceable in my life as a friend and as a lover. Her name is Saki and apparently you met her family years ago. I recall you saying something about them being good, but this was my proof. She also believes that war between our people is not right, and is trying to convince people to consider other ways to solve this conflict. If you were here, what would you have done?

Perhaps even without you, your blood will guide me to the right choices. Thank you for that much.

Until the tides bring us together again [Common Atlantean phrase],

Perasangula

Again, on phone so not really gonna write up a ton.

Having the mark of the Bone King on her meant nothing dared attack her for fear of retribution. At the same time though, nothing wanted to be near her for fear of a misunderstanding that ended in them finding out where the things a skeleton eats go. As a result, Zira grew up with a definite lack of protein. She still had the resources of her village, of course, but being so young it was rough for awhile. Time passed and eventually she regained some interest in the world beyond the borders of her village, so she took short journeys out. Each successful venture gave her confidence until eventually she went where she pleased with no worry- except for a certain row of hills where the remains of a sprawling camp could be seen. It took years for her to muster the nerve to enter one of the invading army's camps. Eventually she shed her fear of them as well and began picking through what was left to learn of them.

By this point she was well adept at feeding herself off the land (though the damned wildlife was still too scared of her to hold still long enough for her to eat them), but a person in the tundra needs more than just food to get by and the supplies she inherited from her dead village were dwindling. She began raiding the invader camps in earnest, looking for more supplies and when those ran out she began gathering valuables.

It took her several long weeks of sitting in the pass that led to the Bone King's domain, staring out at foreign lands with a mixture of awe and curiosity, before she finally saw a trading caravan. It didn't look like the one she remembered visiting her village in her youth, but trading caravans have a pretty universal look to them. She spent the better part of a day making her way to them to trade for what she needed.

****
This would be a good point for another story, or for pcs to meet her, although she's kind of pointless to meet atm. I have more to write, phone be damned.

The traders mostly ignored the pass to their North. It had been a long time since anyone went in it and came out, but since nothing came out of it either it was more of a "don't stick your nose in it and you'll be fine" kind of thing. When Zira showed up suddenly, ghosting out of the woods from the direction of the pass, there were more than a couple screams (and not all of them were feminine). After the last scream faded away the traders, frozen in the middle of preparing their camp for the night, stared at Zira who in return stared back. These were the first people she had seen since her village had been turned to stone, and despite her best efforts she had already forgotten most of their faces and certainly the details of the remaining.

The traders were pretty sure they were about to be eaten. Despite the old leathers and furs wound around the creature it was plain that it was skeletal; its eyes had a flickering in them that disappeared when you focused on them; the silence, now that they had frozen, was deafening as not a single animal seemed to be in the area. All this added together to mean that either this was some spirit of the tundra, come to make them disappear, or a ridiculously underfed teenage girl as one of the traders suddenly began to notice.

Yarlgruf was a retired adventurer (because he was bad at it) who claimed to be a bard. He prided himself on being quite the ladies man, though the only thing remotely "ladies man" about him was how incredibly horny he always was, which is why when faced with what appeared to be the wendigo from stories other more successful adventurers told him he glanced down to check for tits. Finding some broke him out of the staring contest enough to think, and as he looked her over and noticed a lack of both curves and general wendigoeiness he decided she was no threat and, more importantly, not nearly old enough for him. He went back to trying to look busy, which broke everyone else out of their shock as well.

The parlor, though dirty and poorly furnished, was cozy. A fire burned in the brick fireplace, and a table with three simple chairs sat in a corner of the room. Edgard motioned to one of the chairs, and Wizard took a seat. The farmer sat across from the Roderick, leaned back in his chair, and began to clean out his pipe. "Now then son, how much money did we win?"

The wizard placed a thick tome on the table. "Well, as my message said, you don't actually get any money." He looked around, "actually... do you know what happened to the rabbit which delivered the message? He hasn't responded to my missives."

The farmer knocked a bit of ash out of the bowl and onto the floor. "Oh you wanted that rabbit back? Sorry, my wife made it into a lovely stew."

Roderick grew pale. "Y-you ate my familiar?"

"Seems like it, he was damn tasty too. But don't worry," he slapped the wizard on the back, "there's plenty 'a rabbits around here. You can get another one. In fact, lemme see if Maude has one." He cupped his hands, and shouted towards the door, "Hey Maude! Do we have any rabbits in the coop?"

A middle aged woman with thick greying hair and a round face poked her head through the door. "Don't think so, why?"

Edgard stuffed a bit of tobacco into his pipe and lit it up. "Apparently we made rabbit stew out of this young man's pet. Was just seein' if we had another one to give him."

"Shame about that," Maude replied, "this ain't going to interfere with the money, right?"

Roderick slammed his fist on the table. "For the last time! THERE. IS. NO. MONEY."

Maude looked to her husband. "If there's no money, then what in blazes is he doin' here?"

Edgard took a long draw from his pipe, then gave an exaggerated shrug. "I dunno. I only let him in 'cause I thought we had won something." He looked back to Roderick. "So then boy, what's so important you had to drag us out of bed at five thirty at night?"

Roderick buried his face in his hands. "The Kingdom is doomed."

Zira was approached by the leaders of the trading convoy and quickly fed until she nearly puked. The traders offerred to take her with them when they learned she was on her own, but knowing her duty to the Bone King was not over she declined. And so it was that she began to make regular trips out to the pass to trade with passerby for what she needed,trading the keepsakes of dead men. Those who traded with her spread the story of the skeleton woman of the North, who clearly destroyed the army that was lost there years ago and still on occaision was known to kill any who didn't trade with her fairly or offer her a meal. She never did of course, but these stories tend to conform to the same pattern.

There came a day however when Zira woke with a gasp as her forhead burned. The pain was intense but brief, and when she looked into a mirror she had salvaged from a tent she saw a rune on her forehead. As she tried to rub it off the surface od the mirror rippled and the Bone King's visage appeared, hazy and indistinct.

"Servant," he said in a voice of great strain, "I have need of you. Come to me. Find me." His beautiful voice began to fade, as did the image on the mirror. "Free me..."

Never had the Bone King actually asked her to do anything, and never had she felt compelled to do anything other than what she wanted, but the desire to obey settled imto her bones. She knew she had to go to him and help him. She also knew roughly which way he was, surprisingly enough. She began gathering supplies for what was probably a long journey in the direction of the Bone King. South.

As she shouldered her sack of essentials she knew she'd need a weapon of some kind. Being in need of freeing implied being imprisoned, and imprisoned implied guards. And anyway, who knew what she would face on the road? She set out to one of the camps of the invaders, the one nearest the pass, to find a weapon. The traders over the years had been wary of what she brought to trade, afraid of curses on the items, and so had only taken what they were too greedy to pass up such as gold and gems but never weapons. Though she had sometimes taken weapons and fought off pretend hordes she had never wanted to bring any home and thus always left them at the camp. She remembered there was one sword she had been morbidly attracted to because it had a skull motif on the guard where it slid into the scabbard and the grim irony of the sword's owner being destroyed by the Bone King had spoken to her. As she finished buckling the curiously rust free blade to her belt she decided she wanted a shield as well and began to look for one whem the quiet was broken by a greeting. She looked up in shock at a small group of people, who carried and wore an assortment of arms, armor, and gear.

****
The PCs have been contracted by a druid to enter the Bone King's land and attempt to gain audience with him. The druid gives them a talisman to prove they are on a peaceful quest from the druid, and are instructed to politely inquire as to if there is anything concerning happening in his land. The druid, truth be told, has no idea how to guarentee safe passage into those lands but it almost feels to him as of the Bone King is suddenly gone and he wants to test rhis out by sending some hirelings out of the local tavern.

Zira demands to know what they are doing trespassing in the land of the Bone King, they explain, she explains he is imprisoned and asks them for help since he is the great protector of the lands and anythimg that has imprisoned jim must be evil. Boom, campaign.

I posted this last time, then got banned for an unrelated reason, so I couldn't respond to feedback. Really, really sorry about that, guys.

In any case, I've been writing a story about a dragon who gets banished to the frozen hell Earth, and the human who has to deal with all the bullshit that ensues. That's available here:

docs.google.com/document/d/1fC1TACtbBVL9ko-KOQTrJdxB_s6sIVSCVypU_5C1JL4/edit

It actually has a proper beginning now, which is nice. I don't think it's a very good beginning, but at least it's something.

I haven't written in a while because I've been busy with other things, but now that I look over the piece I was working on, I realize half of it just doesn't work and needs to be redone entirely.

...

As I lay upon this here hospital bed
I can tell that soon I will be dead
A man's life well lived, hangs by a thread
Will a thousand and one things still left unsaid.

Damn it all, I wanted more time!
Is that so wrong? Is that a crime?
A chance to a high mountain top climb,
If life is a dollar, is mine not worth even a dime?

In this sterile hospital room I stay
As the nurses bring me tray after tray
Of unfinished food, while I can only lay
Waiting and waiting for the final day.

Until I hear, one trying and fateful night
What was that, a child? What an unexpected sight!
I can barely turn my head slowly, as if the child would bite
And prepared to call for a nurse, should I expect a fight.

Dressed as a pirate at his side a set of keys
The outfit befitting a newborn sailor of the seas
Standing still in my doorway, doing as he please
The boy then nods and grins with the utmost of ease.

"Greetings old man!" Said the boy with a grandiose tone
"I am Dread Pirate Roberts of the ship the Horrible Crone!"
"I come for you, dear Mr. Maxwell, and you alone."
"A chance to reclaim something that away you once thrown"

I replied, "I do not have an idea of which you speak"
My voice gone quiet and barely above a squeak.
My body ached horribly, having grown far too weak.
"But you have my attention, and yet you still have my curiosity to pique"

"I offer you closure, one final time, to see the wife you once left behind."
The young child smiles, his eyes ultimately kind
And yet with a certain sadness they certainly shined
"So what do you say Mr. Maxwell? A contract signed?"

I stayed silent, for a very long while
To make hasty bargains was most definitely not my style.
But soon I'd be dead, I wasn't that senile
"I agree, Ser Roberts" I said, with a very small smile.

In his bag, Roberts digs for something
Before ultimately from the murky depths he bring
A shining piece of metal, not just any metal but a ring!
Shining gold, written words, all the love songs I'd sing
Outside my darling Sylvia's window until the air itself would ring.

With a smile and a nod, Roberts deftly places it in my hand
I could tell in an instant it was the same wedding band
I had placed on her finger on the beach of sand
Where we kissed as husband and wife, the happiest couple in all the land.

But fairy tale endings aren't meant to pass, and soon enough the happy days were in the past,
We were a broken ship, with a shattered mast,
Spinning and spinning in an ocean far too vast.
Yet nothing we did could make the failing marriage last.

We threw our rings away one day, unable to bear the thought of the other.
Sylvia leaving one last time, saying she was off to stay with her mother.
But....but on the way there, her car was smashed, all gone in a blur
And all I could think of was what we once were.

Sylvia was gone, and I was lost, content to die alone.
Lost to the void of time and left to sit on an empty throne
Of beer bottles and pill bottles, and the all consuming gluttony I would have come to known.
And looking back at these memories I'm being shown.

I wonder what life could've been like, lest I had taken a different path.
A marriage filled with love and acceptance, not just bitterness and wrath.
I wonder if she still wanted to walk the same footpaths
We took when we were younger, and if only love was as simple as math.

One plus one equals two
That is indeed incredibly true
But one person plus another is a completely different brew
If it was an animal. it would be a completely different zoo.

Roberts smile sadly, as I feel tears come down from my eyes.
The young boy standing next to me, smiling a big old smile, lets out a kindest of sighs
"I think it's time Maxwell Adams dies."
He says it like he's saying the saddest of goodbyes.

I numbly nod, aware this was my moment.
My life claimed by an incurable ailment
But if I had one regret, a question an answer warrant.
"Regarding me, what is Sylvia's final judgment?"

Roberts replies "She waits for you beyond the pearly gates, waiting with open heart"
"She misses you dearly, loved Maxwell, for not even love can death break apart."
"If I could call any mortal's life anything, I could only call it art.
Because for every bad thing that happens, there is an equally good part."

My heart swells with joy, at hearing his kind word
My eyes creeping closed as a teary eyed Death leans forward
In my final moments of sight, I see that his eyes with pride glimmered.
And in my final moments of breath, I said the final words only he heard

"I can hear the angels' wings"

Fin

...