Storythread

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>www.youtube.com/watch?v=bM8xByCbjFM

Red Wall, Red Wall around paradise,

Golden rays of the glorious searchlights,
lighting up such a blood red light
Now the Mexicans slowly retreat to the shadows,
out of sight.

Arid winds blow across the Rockies,
giving flight to the drones of prey,
In the distance machines come to transform the border,
day by day.

Only Trump is with us now,
someone blunt and brash,
Find the jobs within ourselves,
no need for a cure

When the wind is slow, and the fires hot
Mexico waits to see what rots
oh how pretty, all the scenery
this is Mexico's sacrifice,

When the air goes through
with a brisk attack
the sombrero ripped from their heads,

when the sun sets,
we will not forget
the red wall around paradise

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>1,400-Year-Old Enchanted Sword Discovered by Local Boy

“I was looking for a better stick” explained Vincent Hunt, age nine. “We were playing Knights and Morts, but Dustin was complaining that he’d left his sword at the cabin and Aunt Gabby made me give him mine, even though he’s only a year younger and it was his fault he didn’t have one. So I was stuck with a crummy stick, and when I went to go find a better one I heard the whispering. ”

The Hunt family’s annual reunion took a frightening turn this weekend when, instead of a stick, Vincent returned from the woods bearing an enchanted sword. Luckily for everyone concerned the blade’s enchantment had faded over the years, and Vincent’s father, Edmund Hunt, responded quickly and calmly when his nephews’ and other son’s shouts of excitement caught his attention.

“As soon as I got up it was obvious that something was wrong: the three of them were standing in a circle, waving those toy swords and shields you can get at the gift-shop at Vince, who was shouting gibberish and trying to swing this big old glowing purple thing. The second I saw Vince I knew what was going on, it was exactly like the pictures in old public service commercials and the pamphlets they give out when you buy get a metal detector, right down to the dark cloud around him and the glowy eyes. I went through all the steps: yelled at the boys to back, dialed 666 on my cell and had my sister call the Rangers on hers, and kept everyone back from Vince and the woods he came out of until the Constables arrived. I felt like I was going to have a heart attack the whole time, but I kept telling myself to stay calm and remember the pamphlet and everything would work out.”

Aha, now there's the image that made me start another story that I was working on last storythread:

>title: Operation Spider Lust

The operation is simple and straight forward:

Capture or eliminate Dark Elf matron; Itiireae Brymys, who is suspected of literal human trafficking and slavery. Although Itiireae Brymys lives in the elven lands of Pluria, the elven authorities of Pluria have given the Special Forces of the Human Sovereign government of Olea the permission to take down the Dark Elf matron as it has been confirmed one of the most recent victims of Itiireae Brymys are indeed humans from Olea. It seems this season has a high demand for Human slaves, and Olean Special Forces are willing to put an end to these old world Dark Elf "traditions", even if it means having to indiscriminately bomb their entire surface-level settlements.

"Alright gentlemen, the plan is to infiltrate Miss Brymys' countryside estate, the local elven authorities can't do much to lack of evidence for their part, but what Miss Brymys and her fellow dark elves does not know is that we are going to knock down their doors and give them a taste of justice and years worth of special forces combat training.

We will insert via UH-60's in this point away from Itiireae Brymys' estate, then we will work our way to her estate, eliminate the guards, then work our way to her estate."

>to be continued

Bradfordshire National Forest Rangers quickly arrived on the scene and cleared the area until experts from the Manchester Magic Disposal Squad were able to take over. Upon arrival, the MMDS team, led by Captain John Spence, deployed a suppression field, and after a brief period of analysis, was able to painlessly subdue Vincent and separate him from the sword.

Vincent Hunt was transported to the Manchester Children's Hospital, along with his parents, where he regained he regained consciousness presented no further symptoms of possession. When asked about the experience during a brief interview, Vincent said “I don’t remember any of it, but the pictures were REALLY COOL.” Edmund and his wife of twelve years, Vanessa, expressed gratitude for the swift and professional response of the Rangers and the Magic Disposal Squad, and said they wouldn’t let the experience spoil their family tradition of visiting the Bradforshire National Forest.

The sword, which Park Rangers and Archeologists now think was unearthed and washed downstream during this Spring’s heavy rains, was transported via armored car to Royal Archelogy Museum, along with some other remains and artifacts found at the site. Preliminary analysis has dated the blade to Third War of the Graves, and it is currently believed to have belonged to a Mortificant General, possibly even Dread Lord Francesco the Kind.

When asked for an opinion, Chief Archeologist and State Thaumaturge William Peterson described the sword as “…the biggest archeological find in decades” and “...a wonderful chance to analyze the unrestrained magicks that doomed the Mortificant civilization.”

>Related Content
French Archeologists Uncover Evidence of Ancient Germ Warfare

Possessed Woman Injures Seven in Munich

Parliament to Discuss Legalization of Level Three Magical Study by Private Individuals

Seven Signs of Magical Contamination and What Do About Them

>www.youtube.com/watch?v=YdEhEuyZukk

After a successful insertion via Blackhawks, the spec ops worked their way through the thick foliage to get to Itiireae Brymys' estate. The elves’ intel on the surrounding area was spot on as already they can see the lights from her mansion, although Wood Elf knowledge on woodland navigation makes the first part simple enough. However they were still advised, both by high command and the local elven authorities to still be on the lookout for traps, even if they're infiltrating through the back.

"Wait. Stop."

The team leader of the group was a Battlemage Captain Mark Hamilton. Command figured to send a few experienced battlemages; such as Captain Hamilton for the mission in case of magical traps, and other hostile magical entities.

"I sense some traps nearby." Captain Hamilton The battlemage said as his team stops for awhile. Hamilton raised an arm and casted a spell on the area he was looking at, and his suspicions were confirmed. There were magical traps in the area, although some of his non-magic user comrades could not see it, his detection spell made it clear they should be careful.

"Team two, Hamilton here. Be on the lookout for enchanted traps. Try using a short ranged ‘Sense-Burst Spell.’” Hamilton said quietly on his tactical comms and received a reply from the second team.

“Hamilton, this is Battlemage McTague. Scanning area… Confirmed, can see some magical runes glowing in my POV. Thanks for the heads up.”

Both Spec Ops teams weaved through the continuously shrinking wood lands while also avoiding any magic traps thanks to the efforts of each team’s battlemage, till they reached the outer walls surrounding the dark elf’s estate.

...

“Command, Battlemage Hamilton here. We’ve reached Itiireae Brymys’ estate’s outer walls.” Captain Hamilton said in his tactical comms.

“This is Battlemage McTague command. We’re just outside, 50 yards away from the main gate, we see two guard towers.” Battlemage McTague said through his comms.

“Attention teams, this is base command. Fully acknowledged, standby, await orders, and stay hidden from the guards.” The base command replied to the spec ops teams, as the command then contacted another unit in the operation. “Sniper teams come in, are you in position?”

Meanwhile somewhere else in the area of operation there was a sniper team positioned from an elevated area overlooking the mansion of the dark elf in which they can provide sniper support for the infiltrating teams.

“This is Spotter ‘Frog’ reporting in. I see the mansion.”

“This is ‘Mantis’, me and Frog are in position. And I see a few dark elf guards out on the premises.” The sniper team responded.

“Good, provide fire support for the infiltration teams below. And be on the lookout for any possible additional enemies from the outside.” Command radioed back. “Infiltration Teams 1 and 2, continue with the operation over.” Command radioed to the main spec ops teams.

“Affirmative HQ.” Captain Hamilton radioed to Command. “Frog do you see any guards in the premises?” Hamilton asked the spotter through his comms.

“Affirmative, I can see a few of those dark elf guards. Two in a guard tower each, you see those towers? I see about three more on some walkways.”

“McTague here, mind sniping those guards at the tower overlooking the main front gate?”

“Mantis here, read you clear. Let me line up that shot.”

Mantis, the current sniper of the operation lined up his sights on one dark elf guard but waited for his spotter; Frog, to give the go to shoot. “Steady, wait for that other guard to look away. Steady, steady…”

1/2

2/2

...

alright just one more.

And when Frog the Spotter finally noticed one of the guards not looking at one another, it was when he gave Mantis the signal to shoot. “Alright fire, fire, fire.”

“Got it.” Mantis shot upon the dark elf guard, and just as the second dark elf guard noticed his fellow is dead, he too was also shot dead by Mantis. “Good job, and no one even noticed the sound of two bodies slumping to the ground.” Frog the Spotter said with glee.

“Hamilton here, mind if you also snipe the guards at the tower overlooking the back of the estate?”

“Of course, just give me a sec to line up, aaaannd…” Frog aimed at the dark elf guards at the back tower and repeated the same process as he did to the previous two guards he sniped. And none of the other dark elf guards noticed.

“~and there, guards at the rear tower just kicked the bucket.” Mantis announced through his comms.

“Confirmed, I can vouch for that, Tangos down.” Frog the Spotter added.

Mantis then piped up again through the comms, “Hang on guys, just lemme snipe the other guards.” to which he did, years of marksmanship training, a suppressed sniper rifle, and some quick successful shooting and the rest of the other guards patrolling the ground area are all dead.

“Frog speaking, all guards in the outer area are dead, repeat. All guards dead.” Frog announced through the comms.

“Alright team one, on me. Time to climb this wall.” Hamilton told the rest of his six man team as they began scaling the wall and advancing to the back door.

“Sweet! Team two roll out.” Battlemage McTauge told his own six man team as they moved through the gate and noticed the bodies of the dark elf guards littering the ground thanks to Mantis. They reached the main door and were getting ready to breach. “Command this is Captain McTague, we’ve reached the main door, getting ready to breach.” McTague announced to command.

Alright I suppose, but the dialogue is kinda juvenile it's sorta jarring.

Maybe you guys can help me. I'm writing a high fantasy adventure series and I'm trying to hammer out the narrative I want. It's not exactly game related but given the subject, there's probably a great deal of fantasy story tellers and readers here.

Now my story is in a home brew fantasy world, several different races and cultures in a set up that's not too different from the Warhammer fantasy universe in terms of planting different kinds of cultures in a setting and seeing how they interact.

There are dwarfs inspired by the Greek city states along mountains to the east, Viking islands to the north west, wood elves occupy a forest to the west, human HRE takes up the center, to the south on another continent is a Zoroasterian Byzantine empire. And in the far east is going to be an Asian vampire dynasty.

Now the series I intend to write is from the POV of a middle age hedge knight who travels the lands looking to make a name for himself and his traveling companion, a young Prince in exile who escaped a coup that saw his father dethroned from the empire who is seeking to take back the crown.

The general outline of the series is that all of the factions are basically going to have conflicts with eachother and within themselves and our two heroes are going to be selling their swords in these conflicts with the intention of eventually get our young Prince back to the capital and ousting the usurper.

Underneath all this is an ancient evil (of course) of lovecraftian monsters that come from underneath the ground and seas from an wasteland to the north as they seek to corrupt everything to their elder gods. So our heroes need to reclaim the crown, put shit in order, and unite the various factions to stem this corruption bubbling up from underneath them.

Questions? How does this sound as a concept?

In addition here's a bit of a twist I want to add in.

Our Prince charming is slowly going to be changed by his journey and experiences, until once he reclaims his throne he will be turned into a paranoid tyrant underneath the weight of his crown.

While our POV character the hedge knight, now the captain of the imperial guard, has to watch his surrogate son turn into the villain.

Anyway any questions for details, both in world and outside for the actual writing would be helpful. I want to tackle as many things as possible

eh, depends on how willing other non-human cultures are to hire on human mercenaries, and how well you explain that with in world consistency. They wont get hired by themselves, so they'd need to find their way into a mercenary company i'd think. It could be interesting, but i feel that it would be very difficult to execute properly. I'll be honest i'd be a bit leery of it if someone described it to me like that, but that's just me.

the twist is nice i suppose, if a little obvious.

What's something that could be done that would make you interested in the narrative or the setting?

I mean ultimately I want to make something people want to read and I know overall it's a very run of the mill fantasy setting.

I have a similar idea knocking around in my head, although it's less about vast, sweeping conflicts between a bunch of different factions and more about the fallout and aftermath of a war that more or less tore the world apart. What I'm focusing more on is how society and civilization, both winners and losers, pick up the pieces after a war. You have some very nice concepts going on, for what it's worth.

You going to have many races outside your typical elf-dwarf-halfling hodgepodge? The Vikings going to be humans or what? A thing I really want to try is to flesh out a bunch of strange, abstract races and cultures when you get outside of your typical fantasy Europe setting.

Think about where the elves and the dwarves come from. Tolkien took a bunch of folk tales from the regions he took inspiration from, made them epic, and created the memorable races we have today. You said there are VIkings, right? Well, have 'em be based off of some sort of neat Norse creature with your own creative spin applied. Make them your own.

Great minds think alike though because our POV characters are somewhat similar. Mine's a young, idealistic knight-errant who got kicked to the curb because of tradition after being told to do great deeds. His companion is of more humble origins than yours, his bastard half-brother who wrote to him often during the war, which he fought on the front-lines of.

Overall I guess I'm trying to say I like yer style because my style's on the same wavelength, dude.

For me personally there are two things that will draw my interest. Good characters and originality. I'm not saying your characters aren't/can't be good, but whats the hook? I mean if the blurb about the characters on the back of the book is knight errant raises exiled prince, that's all good and well, but it doesn't sell me on them. Gotta make em pop. I know your just describing general concepts, but we're yoy trying to lure someone how would you write the little back cover excerpt?

Originality is always good, I won't read Tolkien clones anymore. This is not to say your a Tolkien clone. Already at the very least you've differentiated dwarves and added elements not present in a lot of the run of the mill so that's good. But there's nothing in your description that just screams this is new and interesting to me. What's absolutely unique to your book?

Hope this is helpful I don't wanna be an ass and tear you down, I wanna help a fellow aspiring writer maybe get some help with my concepts.

Thanks m8.

What I've considered doing is pairing comparable real world cultures with closely attributed fantasy races.

Like I said, Greek themed Dwarfs with a comparable conflict of a trade based and open Athens to the more militaristic and isolationist Sparta and allies.

Vikings won't be humans but rather my world's equivalent of ogres/orcs. Big horned bastards that operate in clans based out of their islands. Not entirely villainous but generally trouble makers. I like the idea of sailing sentient ogres rather than them being de facto bad guys.

I'm still trying to figure out what I want to do with the elves exactly. I may remove them altogether because they're just not necessary.

The Empire human faction is still fairly vanilla.

The southern humans are going to be a really big mix up of cultures. Byzantine aesthetic with a bit of Carthage and Persian influence. Like I said trade heavy faction, an emphasis on sun and fire worship, maritime powerhouse with Greek fire.

It's fine. This isn't exactly a place you come to if your feelings are hurt or if you want an echo chamber.

Like I said, I want questions that I may not think of as it'll force me to adapt the setting and narrative to something that's genuinely interesting.

Actually upon consideration I might just make those elves forest druids

Heh. You'll certainly make Veeky Forums happy if you take out the Elves. Overall, sounds like you have a fun ideas on your hands.

This guy has the general idea. Make us give a shit about your characters and the rest will fall into place. Look at Game of Thrones. No one would care about the politics if the people who did them weren't interesting.

As an aside, how are you handling magic, if at all? I kind of want to do something like Warhammer Fantasy's winds of magic but not so similar that gee dubs' lawyers would show up if I made it big.

Low magic if at all. I want a greater focus on alchemy.

Rather than huge colleges of wizards, each culture has their own alchemist guilds which have a similar function and every culture with their own flares and brews.

The only hint of magic once being a part of the world will be the horrors I have coming out of the bowls of the earth, twisted creatures of a bygone age.

If there's any magic at all its going to be ritualistic and ambiguous.

If you ever want to make a neat twist as to where the creatures from the bowels of the earth originated from in this bygone age, say that elves did it. I've never really seen anyone do that twist well besides maaaaybe Dragon Age.

I actually already considered that
that's where my High Elves went

...

Guys, guys, how do I write a good query letter hook that doesn't make my cyberpunk thriller sound like every other bullshit sci-fi action film in the last twenty years?

Write something that isn't bullshit and derivative.

the novel isn't, but shrinking it down to a two paragraph pitch is an unbelievable pain.

If it makes you feel better, a work which conforms to widely accepted genre conventions is actually more salable than something original. The recipient of your letter, if they aren't an Indie-press, are probably looking for derivative bullshit.

This is what I'm working on cleaning up right now. Going to be sending it to some old school agent looking for authors with voice, very big on the voice according to his agency bio. It needs work, I think.

>

The city of Bastion is what you get when everyone decides to play it safe, forever. It’s eight thousand square kilometers of industrial prison. Every single skyscraper is a nail on the coffin of human spirit. The only ingenuity left is finding new ways to get thrills in virtual reality. It’s the kind of place where just trying to find the guy that got you shot is enough to make you a threat. That makes Dom the frayed thread in the fabric of Bastion. Seizing the opportunity, a rogue AI forces itself into Dom’s neural implant and turns it into the core of the largest terrorist threat the military oligarchy has ever seen.

Dom had been blocked from returning to military service by Dr. Chase, his friend and the man who put the prototype neural implant in his head. As soon as the military learns there is a rogue element able to kill anyone through their neural implant, they turn on Dom. Police, soldiers, and hunter-killer drones swarm on him, thinking he’s the AI in the shadows. The only thing he can do is save his own skin and tries to hunt down the man, the AI, framing him. The only advantage he has beyond his own training, is the city coordinator AI is on his side. But the rogue AI has already turned a new video game launch into a vector to infect half the city with the lethal virus.

This thread is for writing things and receiving critique on said writing. At a certain point you're slipping over to unrelated talk. If you really want to discuss your theoretical novels, and the ins and outs of getting publishing, there's - specifically, Thanks.

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"Do you have the product?"

The slave trader's twitchiness was getting on Magos Volinka's nerves. It was often a problem with those who had not received the omnissiah's blessings or blessings. A very human tendency to focus on short term gains.

The ancients on terra believed that what set humans apart from other life forms was their ability to think and plan ahead. How dissapointed they would be to see the sad specimens standing in front of her. One of them was holding a sack that was still squirming, while the other two were leering at her like a grox at a juicy bone.

She muttered an audible sigh to show her displeasure. Volinka didn't feel exasperation in a way a human would. Not anymore. She was an Magos biologis. Petty emotions were something to be felt by the cattle and chaff of the imperium. She was destined for something greater. Yet, dealing with riff raff was annoying.

She pointed to a small box, lying open on its side. Inside, there was a series of small vials and a set of syringes filled with a green liquid. Stimulants. The kind of things the scum of the imperium lived and died for.

"And do you have what I want?" Her voice startled the two other humans in the room. Unlike their leader they hadn't expected to hear a perfectly clear female voice. Her vocal chords were capable of a wide variety of noises, but she used the accent and the cadence of a hive noble matriarch. It commanded respect from everyone that listened to it.

The leader nodded. "Found it fresh off the ship. It was on that world that got raided by xenos raiders last week. Was a fighty one for such a litte thing too."

"You know what I really need don't you?" Her vocal implants put a subtle threat in her question. These scum would better not waste her time.

"Yeah. Found out it was going to be taken to the rookery and then to the next black ship. It has all it's fingers and toes too. Its as good as you are gonna get lady." The man nodded as if convincing himself as much as convincing her.

"very well then. Let us see what you have brought here."
At this the man with the sack upended it and the thing inside it came falling down with a crash before standing up.

It was a short human male, with moderate melanin content, and around three to four standard years of age. It's irises and hair were black, and despite it's slightly malnourished extremeties, it was as healthy as an average agri world denizen. Volinka refocues her occular scanners and scanned the boy for what she was really interested in.

The boy had psychic potential, yes. But nearly all humans had it. With her occular sensitivity at maximum, she could see that everyone in the room was psychically active. It was to be expected.

She began to lower her sensitivity progressively and the kidnappers began to fade into the background. The boy on the other hand remained stable. Interestingly, his resonance did not dim one bit until she reached at nearly the lowest levels of sensitivity of her occular implants.

"Very well, we have a deal. Take the box and begone."

The men didn't hesitate. They had the opportunity of a lifetime. A Magos who offered stims was what the ancients on terra would call a golden goose. They would never need another source of stimulants again. Volinka had made sure of it.

She half expected the boy to cry. Juvenile humans often cried to be rid of stress under trying conditions. It was an easy way to dump the brain from overloading under pressure. The boy just kept staring at her, not saying a word. It was either under extreme shock and it's brain had stopped functioning temporarily, or it had processed the entire thing extremely efficiently. She sighed once more and pulled back her hood.

Rudolf stared as the kindly lady robed in red extended a hand to him. He thought the bad men were going to beat him, and maybe take away puco. It was all that he had left of his ma and papa. He clutched puco closer to him, the rough cloth resting comfortably against his cheek

"Little one. are you hungry?" Her voice was nice and friendly, but her words were funny. Each word sounded sharper for some reason, and quite unlike ma's voice. While ma's face was round and broad, the lady's face was shaped like a heart and narrow. Her hair was white as snow, except for a sliver of yellow in front. Her eyes were as blue as the sky, while ma's were dark. She was also tall, almost as tall as Papa. She was quite unlike anyone Rudolf had ever seen before.

"I asked you a question little one" Her voice came, a little sharper now. Rudolf gripped puco tighter and said yes in a voice so low that it surprised even him.

The lady heard him though. "Come on over. I will see if I have something for you." Rudolf walked over to her slowly, looking warily at her. She was nice to look at, and she smelled nice but that so had all those people who had hurt papa. She didn't seem like that though.

After a few seconds of thinking, he reached up and held her hand. She smiled at him, and Rudolf felt absurdly happy. Everything was going to be alright.

After an hour of eating some very tasty food, Rudolf felt tired. He didn't remember what happened next but vaguely remembered being carried to a shiny bed by the nice lady. When he was on the verge of falling asleep, he vaguely remembered seeing the nice lady staring at her.

Remembering his manners, he managed to mumble a sleepy good night, and force of habit made him say ma.

He wasn't sure but the lady's eyes were glittering as he fell asleep. He wouldn't wake up for a long time.

Captain Brooks paced the command bridge sipping his coffee as he went.

"Status report, conn."

"Holding steady at 4,000 fathoms, sir."

"Anything on sonar?"

"Negative, sir. All quiet."

Captain brooks mentally sighed to himself. It had been 4 days since they had come to the Mariana Trench at the beck of Vice Admiral "Schlubber" Schuber to investigate some "bloop" that apparently every sonar equipped ship had heard. 4 days of looking up and down this trench for....something. Something to explain the sound, and besides a very persistent school of salmon that followed them on the way down they hadn't found anything to explain the sound.

"Conn, set a course for Port Wellington. As soon as we surface get Vice Admiral Schuber on the radio. Last time we go on a goose chase for Schlubber rank or no rank."

"Aye sir."

trying to work on my writing. this is what I've got so far.

you are dropping too many names. Space it out a little, do a little more exposition, a little more hints at the state of mind the PoV character is in.

Just because I've always wondered what the explanation is.

The last thing Magos Volinka had expected the boy to say was "good night ma." It was a common enough greeting for children to tell their guardians she supposed but she had never had expected to hear it herself.

She had applied for a genetic second to take up her work after she would have stopped, but it had been terminated after unforseen complications. She had shrugged and carried on with her work, and stopped caring about others beyond that point. Only her work and her consultations with her colleagues remained. Yet the boy's trust had shaken her in a surprising way. Her logical mind told her that the boy was just trying to find a new guardian after traumatic events, but another part of her long suppressed was beginning to rear it's head again. She needed to make a note of it and present it to the next conclave. Archmagos Prathios' suppression treatment apparently had some deficiencies.

The boy had been drugged and would be asleep for long enough to begin the treatment. As the laboratory was sterilized the servitors brought up the equipment and the transplant organs that would be required for her work.

As a pair of servitors scrubbed her and prepared her for her work, Magos Volinka felt a sense of pride and accomplishment that smothered all her doubts. She was going to be the last link of an ancient work that went farther back than the formation of the imperium itself. Stretching from holy mars to her humble quarters on Tranis Minor, dozens of magi had spent their lives perfecting the great mystery. Her order had in their possession one of the holiest relics of the Omnissiah, an STC that would unleash the psychic potential of man and would be the next step in it's evolution. Not the clumsy genesmithing of the adeptus astartes, not the enlightened modifications of the Techpriests, it would be a rebuilding of man in the image of the Omnissiah itself, provided the man was strong enough.

If magos Bubeck could see his protege now, he would be proud. The moment of their triumph was at hand. Soon mankind would stand triumphant over it's foes, as it was remade in the image of the omnissiah.

She began to chant the necessary rites, her voice clear and lilting as the servitors began the operation. First the epidermis would need to be removed. A servo skull kept monitoring the patient's biological responses and kept making sure the juvenile would not die.
The eyes would need to be removed next, and volinka had to be careful to recite the rites in the proper order otherwise the nerve chords would be severed.

The brain would need to be oversaturated and the pineal gland driven to overdrive. This would keep the psychic might of the specimen from going out of control. Volinka remembered the anecdote where the adeptus biologis gave the navigators the chance to fix their genetic defects, and the ingrates refused. She would show the barbarians.

Next came the long process of overcharging the bone marrows of the specimen. This would cause immense trauma to the subject and Volinka had expected the boy to die at this point if she proceeded at the recommended speed. To her surprise she kept doing it much more slowly than she had originally planned, replacing one bone at a time instead of working with all the major limbs as was proscribed. Her logical mind told her that this was because she had come too far along to let the boy die, but a part of her didn't want the boy to die for other, inexplicable reasons.

Slowly and tediously she finished her work and made a note to start the replacement organ growth as soon as she could. All the improvements the boy was getting would make his metabolism faster, and his body would require more robust organs to process it's requests.

As the servitors finished reattaching the boy's eyes, she took a look at the bloody mess on the table. The boy was certainly tough, as far as juvenile humans go.

She had found him on what seemed to be impossible odds. The child had survived a xeno raid, had survived a rogue trader's clutches, had nearly been sent to the black ships and had escaped from the clutches of a brutish hive world gang and had fallen into her hand.
His biometrics were as perfect as she needed them to be and he had turned up right when she had finally decoded the STC.

The omnissiah had marked her for triumph, and him for everlasting glory. He would be born anew, a living avatar of the god of machines, in his aspect as a human.

Yet she felt a bit of pity and a twinge of sadness. What fate had awaited this mutilated child lying on her table, and what would his life be like if the xenos had never struck his backward farming colony. The boy depended utterly and completely on her, in a way she had depended upon Bubeck nearly two hundred years ago.

Yes, she would raise the boy as her own, and watch as he ascended to the very pinnacles of humanity as was his right.

Almost unconsciously, she ruffled his hair and looked at him with some a measure of care. As Magos Volinka was leaving the room, she almost remembered as an afterthought that the boy hadn't told her his name..

I HAVE FOUND IT! THE GOLDEN SUN! NOW THERE WILL BE NONE TO JUDGE ME FOR MY CRIMES FOR ALL SHALL CEASE TO EXIST! IN ITS STEAD I SHALL CREATE A NEW WORLD, ONE WHERE I AM THE SUPREME MORALITY! WHEN I DIE IT SHALL BE AS A GOOD MAN!

I am done with this one for now, I will continue it later. Any suggestions advuce or brickbats are appreciated.

*advice

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Taxidermy.

yes I know I lack imagination in this response

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>Uff da, my wife is going to be sore tonight, for sure!
>I'll bet I'll hear her from my shed all night with you big fella.

>yes I know I lack imagination in this response
I don't care, I've got a picture of a squirrel riding a snake now, thanks to you

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Fuck it, if somebody wants something silly here you go.

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>its actually a cow.

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I'm sorry, but how exactly is this Veeky Forums related?

I think this should belong on Veeky Forums

This the first time that I've seen someone complain about these threads. Off yourself, newfag.

He's actually a butthurt questfag who put on his warrior hat and saying "I'll show them! I'll show them all!" in a nasal geek accent

Writing fiction is not Veeky Forums relevant. There are more suitable boards for that.

Veeky Forums threads should be Veeky Forums related.

That exact question is addressed directly on the wiki. Try reading it next time.
1d4chan.org/wiki/Storythread#Why_are_Storythreads_important.2C_and_what_do_they_have_to_do_with_.2Ftg.2F.3F

also, shhh. As long as the mods don't notice us we don't have a problem.

1d4chan is not an official Veeky Forums wiki.

The mods should be notified about these off-topic threads.

>"SNFFFF I'll show them! I'll show them all! How DARE they take away my queshts! I'll take eeeeeverything they have SNNFFF! I watsched the greatest battle of all shcience fiction, the epic battle from Season 2, epishode 1 of the original Shtar Trek sheventeen times on YouTube to prepare for the trialsh to come!"

This has nothing to do with quests. This is about improving Veeky Forums and getting rid of off-topic threads.

>Writing fiction is not Veeky Forums relevant.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dungeons_&_Dragons_(novels)
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Warhammer_Fantasy_novels
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Warhammer_40,000_novels
whitewolf.wikia.com/wiki/List_of_White_Wolf_fiction_by_title

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight, you're just crying like a little faggot because your animu loli yuri quest was told to GTFO.

Those all belong on Veeky Forums

The same way Total War: Warhammer is not permitted as a topic on Veeky Forums just because it ties into a tabletop property, tie-in books should be relegated to the appropriate boards too. Veeky Forums is for traditional games discussion, it is not a general sci-fi/fantasy board.

Keep shitposting faggot, it just makes your ban longer!

"In hindsight, well, maybe it was a bad idea raping the President's daughter."

-Last words of Terrorist-rapist, few seconds before losing his dick and his life, in this exact order.

probably, but Veeky Forums is complete shit

Irrelevant.

I got an "ongoing" one that just started yesterday
I find this qt on ask.fm, get a crush on her, start checking out her profile
It turns out she's from my city, which is pretty rare
>yesterday night
Finally find the courage to contact her and send her a pm
We speak for a couple hours, talk about music and stuff
I tell her I play TTRPG and turns out she's super into it and even wanted to go to a DMing class, but never managed to find a group
I've been DMing for about 4 years now and I just moved in, so I need to find a new group
I tell her I'd gladly play with her if she manages to find someone to form a group, even for a one shot just for shit and giggles
>"Some of my classmates wanted to try, I'll ask them tomorrow and let you know"
>"How many are them?"
>"Well it's me, Stacy, Chad and my BF"
>"O-ok"
>tfw I made myself the supreme maximum cuck and now I have to play with her and her BF
At least I hope it goes well and they decide to start a campaign so I can start playing regularly again

>Writing fiction is not Veeky Forums relevant. There are more suitable boards for that.
Ah but it can be, friend. Imaginative thinking, especially on the spot imaginative thinking, are crucial to running a good roleplaying game. Those skills are more closely related to traditional gaming than literature. The act of writing creatively itself is important to the modern roleplaying scene, where many folks only engage in these games over text-chat programs; without a place to practice, those people will create unenjoyable experiences, and that's bad for the hobby. I believe this is justification enough for a writing-prompt based thread to exist, so long as it does not stray too heavily into other arenas of writing in general.

Wrong kind of storythread.

Woopsie daisy excuse me next time I'll read the full OP

Amusing story either way. Good luck.

Guys, with the way this user is posting, and due to my experiences in life, I have come to a conclusion. He is legitimately autistic. Like, medically diagnosed autistic. Like, /b/ tard greentext storytime tier autistic. The poor little guy thinks he's a mod.

Best to just ignore him at this point.

>also, shhh. As long as the mods don't notice us we don't have a problem.
>not poking the autist until it falls over on it's back and starts rolling in it's own filth.

...