Storythread

By whatever mystic forces control this sort of thing, I summon thee writefags. The Storythread is back, and it requires your attention.

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.

The previous thread is still in the archive here
if anyone has any comments about the stories posted 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:

youtube.com/watch?v=nNXzjB6MEb0
twitter.com/NSFWRedditImage

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Who else has submitted to The Bard?

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>I'm planning to, but I'm looking for input to see how much I need to clean up before finalizing it.

The crashing star was the sort of activity that Nathaniel Sulley was looking for in this boring little hamlet. It had already been a month since he had a good fistfight, and this place had nothing else going for him. Crime was near-nonexistent, the people were all so nice and law-abiding that it put him on edge, and there weren’t any monsters out in the forest to beat up. Just approaching the crater had made him excited, the heat of the collision heating up his blood. There had to be something in here, even if it was just something valuable to sell.

The star was now little more than a smoking rock, glowing a pulsating dull orange. It was more than Nate could carry, but he didn’t care. The heat felt overwhelming, but his determination to get something out of this trip was all it took to keep going. As he approached the rock, he could only think about how many punches it would take to break it and if he’d be needing his gloves; to the latter question, he thought it only made sense to put them on anyway. To the former, however, he would find an interruption as the glowing grew brighter with each step. A hand extends, and to his surprise a fiery tendril emerges to match him. He approaches, and the tendril becomes more human in appearance. Their hands finally touch, and Nate jerks away from the fiery human before him.

“You do not show fear,” a strange, feminine voice reverberates. Nate jerks around to find who said that, but nothing else was there. Weird, it sounded so close.
“Why should I?” He asks. “My whole business is beating people up, why should I be afraid of some giant rock? Or a fire-person, but I’ve never seen one until now.”
The fiery figure remains still. “Do you think you stand a chance against me?”
Nate’s stance remains unchanged, poised for any action under a relaxed exterior.

“C’mon! If I knew the answer to that, then why the hell would I still be here?”
The fiery figure does not react to Nate’s attempt at levity. “You could die here.”
The thug replies, “It’s still be more fun than just sitting in this backwater little waste. Not like anything really goes on here.” For a moment, there is silence. The fire continues burning in front of him, and he refuses to move.
The voice speaks again. “Is this amusement all you wish for?”
He scoffs. “All I’m really good at. I’m not exactly what you’d call smart, I find being in the guard boring as hell, but I just couldn’t see myself ever going criminal. So, I decided to do the only thing available to me and become a wandering brawler. Sure, the pay’s utter crap, but I get to fight new things all the time and I’m not stuck anywhere.”

Again, there is only silence. This time, Nate becomes unnerved by it. His anticipation has been building with no payoff, and only now has it begun to bother him. “Well? What’re you waiting for? If you want something, bring it.”
“Your willpower…” it observes, “Your spirit… I feel a sort of kinship in it.”
“The hell are you going on about now?” Nate grumbles, his feet carrying him towards the cooling rock. “All I’m here for is the rock, whatever you’re planning, I don’t care.”
“We are alike.” The voice is now more direct. “The fire in your soul, it is the same fire that I have been seeking.”
This gives Nate a momentary pause. “What?”
The fiery figure’s arm stretches out, but already the flames are beginning to die down. “I cannot last long like this. Eventually I will cease to exist.”
“Sounds like your problem. So that means I can help myself to this?”
“What if I offered myself as well?”
“Wait, what?”
The fire approaches him, the fiery hand now reaching out. “I am the fire you bear inside you. My power can be your power; your life will be mine. Join me, and this can be yours.”

Power, as it turned out, was a far greater lure for Nathaniel Sulley than any amount of money.
“You mean I can set things on fire too?” He clarified. “And you’re giving this to me with no strings attached?”
“Yes.” Already, Nate’s mind was racing. This was power the likes of which was never seen before, the powers only gods had. The temptation of such power, to abuse it and become a king, was great. It was no secret from his barely-concealed grin that he was seriously considering such a use. There was absolutely no downside to this choice. “What is your decision, human?”
“All for the ability to be more than just some street bum?” he muses. “You know what? Why the hell not?” Nate extends his hand out. “You better not regret this.”
The fiery hand reaches, and for a moment, they connect. “We will be forever bound. The only regrets henceforth will be yours.”

The figure dissipates. The fire snakes its way up his arm and spreads through his body, the heat becoming greater than that of the rock, more than a man could bear. He could feel himself burning, even though he couldn’t see it. Then, the fire recedes. The heat no longer matters. All that remains is Nathaniel Sulley, now empowered by that fire spirit, and the rock. He tests his gift by lighting a small fire in his hand.

The dim rock cracks, it hisses, and then it collapses. There is nothing inside but smoke.

Nate walks away. The rock is so little now when compared to the gift of fire. Just knowing that he had the ability to burn anything was worth far more than what could have been in there.

>END

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I really liked this! I'm genuinely interested in who this guy is and what exactly will happen to him now that he has this newfound power. Only thing I thought sounded a little weird was the part where he said that he was a wandering brawler, but other than that I think this sounds great!

Pretty good novella, though I felt some parts weren't described nearly enough to create a visual scene. As an example, the moment when Nate reaches towards the rock and a 'fiery tendril emerges to match him. He approaches, and the tendril becomes more human in appearance. Their hands finally touch, and Nate jerks away from the fiery human before him.'

From the audience's perspective, this seems extremely lazy. We know that you mean the fire is unnaturally forming the silhouette of human form because you say "suddenly there's a fire human there", but there's almost no descriptive writing whatsoever. A most disagreeable shortcut to narrative.

The only other thing I will gripe about the is the overwhelming use of present tense with terminology. It sets my teeth on edge, especially when used in ways like "Nate jerks around..." instead of "Nate jerked his head around..." which feels more natural. Admittedly however, this is more personal than objective.

Good use of separating key parts like character introduction then conflict/story elements, even though as mentioned already, Nate saying "I'll just be a wandering brawler" as if that's some kind of official title and not "i feel like walking around looking for a fight". Is it more significant than that? It doesn't seem like it, but Nate's motivation certainly makes it clear we should catch on to this. Confusion.

6/10, would continue reading.

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>it's back
Oh thank FUCK

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Troc knows many things. He knows that this night is a full moon. And though he does not know why, he knows that full moons are important. He knows this because when he was a small boy he asked the old man, who told him that he must never leave the village during a full moon. He does not know why. And for years, Troc has heeded these words, and others. Small things. But important. Now Troc has a son, and the old man is dead. And he tells his son the same things the old man told him. Does this make him the old man? Troc does not know. But Troc knows the moon rises now, full over the trees and the mountains behind them and the sky behind them, more stars than Troc can count alongside it. And Troc does not know why, but he feels the urge to leave the village. Something in him, Troc does not know what, drives him to slip away from his family on silent feet, padding through mud and leaves. Something brings his shoulders down low, ready to spring and pounce. Something shakes his head, and it is not him. Something alert and hungry twisting from side to side. Troc knows where his body leads him, and he runs fast because he doesn't know what he'll find there and doesn't want to miss it. Troc feels the heat of the moon on his naked skin, taut over vines of muscle and trunks of bone. He slows, stepping on all fours out to the lakeside. He knows this is where he made his first kill, years ago when he became a hunter among his people. He feels something in his gut that he has felt before and never given a name to. He looks down into the lake, water still and flat like the full moon above. He knows why he shouldn't be out. He knows he can never go back. Troc sees a hunter. He sees a thing of pure intent. He sees the animal beneath the skin. Troc does not have the words for what he sees, but what he sees cannot be seen with words. He cannot look away from what he sees, as terrible and beautiful as the full moon. And Troc knows what he sees is himself.

"So miss Granger, care to tell me how exactly you've developed this "sleep paralysis?" Even though according to records, you've never had such condition in your early life."

The nervous woman answered wearily. "I swear doc, it's not some form sleep paralysis, its some actual creature that keeps messing with me in my sleep."

"And what does this creature do to you exactly?"

"..." She hesitates to answer for a moment. "...Nothing that much if I must be honest. This creature just stares at me... It just stares but it also tries speaking to me in my sleep sometimes, especially when it tries to ignore me-"

The psychiatrist cuts in. "Sounds like a classic case of Sleep Paralysis, miss Granger. To be honest I don't very much about it myself. But I simply know it involves a person seeing things and people that are not really there while trying to sleep at night, which are also hallucinatory. I have already relayed this problem of yours to people who are more specialized in this case of your's."

The woman then insists. "I'm telling you its not that. I'm already about to reach my fifties and never in my life have I ever had such a condition. This was an actual creature. Either I'm getting insane for some goddamn reason, or I REALLY am being tormented by such a beast and no one would believe me."

"I'm sure I and the professionals I know who also know about such cases like this can help out soon. But for the mean time, try sleeping with someone, as in try sleeping with a companion to keep yourself feeling safe. Maybe this creature you speak of will not pick on you if you have company... Sorry about that, but I'm certain there is a way to help you and be sure whether you do have sleep paralysis or not."

After this day's session, miss Granger left the psychiatrist's office, she would probably call a long time friend of her's to spend a night with her as the psychiatrist suggested.

But as she was leaving the building, she swear she saw the same dark-multi-limbed being looking at her. She swore it saw not an aggressive or aggravated expression, just looking at her.

She simply rushed off back at home to reach company, any company who can help keep her not alone. And maybe, just maybe this creature would leave her alone.

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>Oh hey another image that motivates me to write another short write-work that's mostly descriptive expo.

youtube.com/watch?v=nNXzjB6MEb0

Welcome to Sci-Tech Labs. Here in Sci-Tech we develop technologies and sciences to help bring in a new age of scientific and technological advancements.

Our scientists, staff and other personnel are only one of the best in their field and profession and are graduates from the most prestigious of colleges, universities and academies.

We focus in the fields of General Science, Robotics, BioScience, and Advanced Systems and Mechanics.

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Here in advanced systems and mechanics we focus on building, developing and researching technology. Ranging from improving the usefulness and effectiveness home appliances to super computers and reactor cores to power entire cities, we work and research to constantly improve the effectiveness of such technological wonders to constantly power our future. And our lives and the future generations to come.

>to be cont

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How would real-life governments and officials react to the Sun disappearing? (As in, it goes down one day, and then doesn't come up again.)

What would they say to the people?

They would say they're investigating and awaiting word from the bigwigs with NASA or equivalents.

>What would they say to the people?
They would probably get some fucking sciencist on the job and make a statement based on what those people would find. "Sun dissapearing" would be a MAJOR event a lot of people would probably be looking into how that fucking shit happened. it would not be THAT difficult to explain at least in rough terms how the largest and most important celestial object in our relevant vicinity somehow dissapeared.
It would also mean the end of life and end of the solar system, so there is that too.

What if the findings are "We have no fucking idea what's going on?"

That is quite literally impossible.
And even if that somehow was the case, the absolute complete terror of our society not only facing what is going be the inevitable end of civilization within a generation or two, and of all complex life on the planet in a matter of centuries COMBINED with the fact that we have just discovered that every single most fundamental nature of reality as we thought we knew it has been denied would result in situation where it would not matter what are the authorities saying.
They would probably try to calm people into promising they will be further looking into it, and meaninwhile everything else would be focused onto matters or immediate and pragmatic survival.

Well, yeah, that's what I'm thinking of.

I've got civil order breaking down pretty quickly, but first I need to show the progression of events as things get worse.

The part I'm finding the hardest is how they explain the very first "day", when the Sun doesn't rise. I mean, how would you start talking about that?

>The part I'm finding the hardest is how they explain the very first "day", when the Sun doesn't rise
Well for starters that makes no sense because sun is always up for SOME part of the planet. Some-one somewhere is going to see and probably document how the sun dissappeared. it's not about "oh my god sun is not coming up", it's going be "oh my god, Sun is vanishing right in front of our eyes, in front of thousands and millions of cameras pointed right at it."

I know, but the way I'm framing it is a morning news report on the radio. So, for people who are just waking up, basically.

There would be reports on what has happened running everywhere. That would be the major focus for the next few days, if not weeks. Outside of that, states of emergency declarations, "keep calm and stay home" pleas, re-runs of all available footage documenting the events, experts and authorities consistently streaming out endless chains of speculations of what could happen, more pleas to maintain social order, more promises that experts are looking into it, more pleas for patience and calm.
That is what would be going on.

In a few weeks, first semblances of new emergency plans would start to emerge. Army and police would probably be in the streets of major urban areas, rations possibly being provided in a desperate attempt to stop the inevitable panic and collapse of food and necessities markets, perhaps the first bright minds would start providing calculations of the upcoming climatic changes, making death toll estimations etc...

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That's more like it user, thanks.

What happens after civilization breaks down? How long would it be until things are completely unsurvivable?

>What happens after civilization breaks down?
That would be such a massive speculation that anything that I'll tell you is questionable. The real matters are problably problems of purely economical nature: how long before world-wide agriculture completely kicks, how long before food reserves start to dry up, how competent will be the governments with maintaining order... The most likely assumption is that there will be concentrated push to move at least small portion of humanity under ground with some reserves of food, perhaps with ways to produce more of it: synthetic sunlight and glass houses, that kind of shit.
Everything else is up in the stars, really. And also probably will differ from country to country. Japan will be dealing with this shit in a different fashion than USA or Germany, for an example.

Yeah, that's what I figured. Toying with the driving force of the plot being an attempt to reach a rumoured underground facility/shelter. Unsure whether to have it be real or not.

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>How long would it be until things are completely unsurvivable?
Much sooner than you think without the sun the earth will go full iceball in a matter of days to weeks.

Warhammer high story please. I have no shame or regrets

What, like frozen solid or just Arctic conditions?

Pic unrelated.

>Much sooner than you think without the sun the earth will go full iceball in a matter of days to weeks.
You are deeply underestimating the thermal capacity of earth surface and in particular, of oceans. Not a matter of days or weeks: months or years. We are not actually living in an Emmerich movie.

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I'm normally averse to fanfiction but I've been on a real 40k kick lately so I might play around with this.

Bear in mind I might go against "canon" and make some of the Primarch's Daughters into Primarch's Sons. Bobby Guilliman, Ronald Dorn, Connor Corax, that kind of thing.

[SPOILER]Is BobbyxHana incest?[/spoiler]

>[SPOILER]

Fuck. I've been spending too much time on KF

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Looks like some sort of witch hunt for jack o lantern scarecrows.

Halloween was classed heretical, so they seek out the physical manifestation of halloween.

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Guys, make stories out of/for this thread:

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Here in BioScience, we study the human body, nutrition, medical health care, animal biology, food production and pathology.

While the further development, research and improvement of current scientific and technological fields is crucial. Nothing is more crucial than the well being of our race and species, especially the animals that help make our world go round. The people of BioScience work hard to create new medications, study current and future diseases to help combat infection, study wildlife biology and ways to help make us live longer.

BioScience is here to help make the world healthier for its future.

Write in Samus as a primarch and I'm in.

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"Hey, guys so I met with the big guy up stairs and- OH FUCK NO!"

"What's going on- NOOOO!"

"We were tooo laaaate!"

"Greetings fallen titan! For how many years have you been trapped?"

"Ooooo, I don't know...What's the one with the 'm'?"

"...'m'? What do you mean?"

"You know, how we count stuff with years, and ten of those are a decade, and a hundred are a- MILLENNIUM! That's the word! Yeah I'd say I've been here for some millenniums."

"Ah, well I'm sorry for your entrapment."

"Well that's nice of you! But nah, milleniums of reflection made me realize we really had this coming. Like goddamn I was a shitbag. And there are some other guys out here that are even worse. Petrified but still spoutin shit. Spooking folks into worship does sound pretty sweet though."

"I wish you luck in that venture, should you choose to pursue it. However I must confess that my pleasantries have another motive."

"Oh yeah I figured as much. What can I do yah for?"

"I seek another woman much like myself, in similar garb but bearing a crossbow upon her horse."

"Oh yeah, I saw her. Went-wow still not used to not being able to point-uh...North? North or West."

"Those are two very different directions."

"Yeah, I never really kept track of my bearings. Had A LOT of reflecting to do so the direction of everything gets all muddled."

"Ah, well thank you for-"

"WAIT! THE SUN! There's a thing about directions and the sun! Wow, it's amazing what you forget when you do that self-actualization stuff."

"The sun? Ah! Yes! The sun rises in the south and sets in the north!"

"I'll take your word for it! West is left of north, yeah? Ok then she went North-Eastish."

"Thank you for your help, fallen titan!"

"Thanks for chatting! You have a good day!"

The moment they slinked into the club, Sam Wickham noticed three things about the girls:

First, and most obviously; they were 'dolls'; New-york slang for heavily modified women: Loaded up with both silicon and silicone, dolls tended to look too perfect and kind of... plastic-y; more like over-Photoshopped pictures of pretty, young girls than the real thing.

These two could've been twins, but more likely they just had the same surgeon. Apparently, if you were familiar enough with the modding scene, you could tell which clinic, or even which doctor had installed the mods just by looking the girl over. Sam wasn't that knowledgeable on the subject, but he could easily tell that the pair striding over to him were combat models: Something in the way they moved was too precise, showed too much strength for their dainty frames. He was almost reminded of footage of astronauts on the moon; terrestrial muscles untaxed by mere lunar gravity.

Second; he saw that they were armed. Not that such a thing was unusual in a nightclub this part of town; Sam himself had his trusty, antique, 20th century piece tucked comfortingly into his shoulder-holster, but these girls had their weapons in hand: One had a fancy, new, top-of-the-line PX 325 Gauss pistol, the other a stun-stick; hardly a classic self-defence weapon.

Thirdly; this pair were patently amateurs: From the way they seemed unused to their almost-certainly-brand-new mods, to the way they had completely failed to disguise their obvious predatory intent towards him, to the fact that they'd eschewed hiding their weapons until the last moment: All of it broadcast that these were a pair of bored rich girls who'd loaded themselves up with a platoon's worth of military-grade combat mods on daddy's dime to experience the wild world of bounty-hunting.

Sam had seen their type before; he knew well enough how much of a danger to themselves and others modded-up amateurs could be, and something told him this pair could be a real disaster-area if they went off bang. Still, if they were really as green as they looked....

The girls emerged from the writhing, sweaty, strobe-lit, darkness and throbbing noise of the dance floor, and into the relatively well-lit, sound-shielded booth Sam currently occupied.

"Sam Wickham?" The one on the left simpered.

Sam held up his finger in the universal gesture for 'just a minute' as he continued to fiddle with his phone in his lap.

"Bear with." He said, without looking up.

"Bear with." He repeated. The 'twins' exchanged looks for a moment.

"Bear with... right, okay." He looked up into the ever-so-slightly-uncanny-valley-perfect faces of his would-be captors with a raised eyebrow. "You two here to bring me in?"

"Oh." They both seemed a little crest-fallen that they had been made. "Uhm... yeah." Admitted the left-hand girl, chewing her exquisitely sculpted lower lip pensively.

The one on his right held out an e-warrant showing Sam's face with a sum of money underneath it which caused him to raise his other eyebrow. "Sam Wickham, we're The Dasilver Sisters, and we're here to bring you in." She stated redundantly; evidently sticking to some pre-rehearsed script.

"Uh-huh, mind telling me what for?" He queried, recovering from his shock at seeing just how much someone was willing to pay for his (hopefully metaphorical) head on a platter.

The girl brandishing the warrant whipped out the pistol from behind her back and levelled it at his head. "That's for us to know and you to, y'know; whatever. Just get your ass up and do as your told, scum!"

Ah, he thought, so it was one of those 'warrants'. He had hoped to avoid making a scene in the club, but he'd bet his own mother that if he left with these two, he wouldn't see another sunrise.

The gun currently projecting its little, red dot onto his forehead was one of many things which had given away the Dasilvers from the get-go: Sam had spotted that it was a PX 325 Gauss, specifically the SP 'Proffesional'(tm) model; cyber-linked, DNA-locked to prevent unauthorised use, could switch ammo-types on voice-command and featured the latest in aim-correcting functionality for maximum combat effectiveness. Brand new off the factory line. So new, in fact, that the manufacturer hadn't yet put out a rather important security software patch, leaving the entire 'Proffesional'(tm) range horribly open to malware and hacking, which is exactly what Sam had been doing with his phone since he saw the girls coming for him.

With the push of a virtual button, the gun started to emit a whine as the internal magnetic coils whent into to overcharge, heating the ammo untill it slagged the barrel, rendering the gun harmless. Or so it should have done. Sam was as surprised as the Dasilver sisters when the pistol erupted in a shower of shrapnel, peppering himself and the sister to his left with knicks and cuts, but reducing the left hand of the other girl to a bloody, ragged, stump; cyber-components sparking furiously in the spurting gore.

There was a second's stunned silence before the now one-handed girl began shrieking, and Sam yelled "EXPLOSIVE ROUNDS!?? YOU LOADED EXPLOSIVE ROUNDS FOR A CLOSE-QUATERS FIREFIGHT IN A CROWDED CLUB!?! ARE YOU FUCKING RETARDED!?"

In fact, Sam was so distracted that he almost missed the second Dasilver swinging the stun-stick at his head with inhuman strength and speed. However; no-one was a professional PI / bodygaurd / bouncer / general underworld scumbag for as long as Sam Wickham without acquiring at least a few mods of their own. Albeit that he had nothing as comprehensive as the Dasilvers' full-body stuff, he had invested very heavily in augmented reflexes, and it was these that allowed him to narrowly twist aside, missing a skull-caving blow by less than an inch. With time subjectively slowed, Sam saw an opportunity in the girl's over-extended position, and brought his foot up with all the force he could muster in a kick that would have shattered a normal, human elbow. Although her reinforced joint resisted breaking, she did at least drop her stun-stick, and Sam, using the momentum of his kick to back-flip out of his seat, snatched it out of the air, landing on his feet behind the pink, fluffy couch just in time to see it demolished by a wild punch from the enraged doll.

She let out a furious scream, low and rumbling to Sam in his slow-mo world: Again he saw opportunity and took it; flicking the stun-stick's activator to maximum and flinging it with an accuracy borne partially of cyberware and partially of long practice with improvised weapons, straight into her open mouth: Rage had just enough time to turn to surprise as hundreds of thousands of volts cascaded directly into her nervous system, causing her to seize and bite down hard on the metalo-plastic rod with such force that the hardened casing deformed; making it almost impossible to remove untill her jaw unclenched.

Before the shuddering girl even had time to drop to the floor, a twitching in his peripheral vision, combined with a lifetime of brawling experience and his boosted reflexes gave Sam just enough time to fling himself into a diving roll as half of the mangled couch flew through the air, nearly clobbering him. Either the first Dasilver sister was a hell of a lot tougher than she looked, or else she'd just remembered to activate a pain-block implant; whatever the case, she'd recovered her wits and was spoiling for a fight.

So far Sam had been afforded a number of advantages over his opponents; their inexperience, their unfamiliarity with their own implants and the fact that they had apparently been built for brute force over speed or finesse, but Sam knew it was only a matter of time untill he was on the receiving end of a lucky hit, and one solid blow from walking tanks like the Desilvers would put him on his ass at the very least. Time to end this.

Down on one knee, Sam reached into his jacket and drew his own pistol; old and lacking in bells and whistles it may have been, but, as Sam often pointed out to those who mocked his choice of gun; in terms of reliability they don't make them like this anymore.

Glancing up, he took brief stock of the situation; thanks to the near-weaponised volume of the club sound-system, no-one else had noticed the life-or-death fight going on mere yards away; the sister he'd made to swallow her own stun-stick was now on the floor; thrashing uncontrollably; smoke was beginning to escape from her mouth around the intruding stick as her lips and cheeks blistered and charred; the other girl, meanwhile had taken out a serrated combat knife from god-knows-where and was barreling towards him, unnaturally pretty face twisted up with anger. He aimed his weapon between her eyes and squeezed the trigger; her head snapping back from the force of the impact. She stopped her charge mid stride, dazedly dropping her knife as she did so, and raised her hand to her forehead. She peeled away the still-hot disk of deformed lead from the front of her reinforced skull, leaving behind an ugly, silver-dollar sized wound that began to pour blood down her face. She gazed at the object between her thumb and forefinger in bewilderment for a moment before seeming to shake of the stunning effect of the hit just in time for half-a-dozen more in rapid succession to slam into her face, ruining hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of the plastic surgeon's art.

The last standing Desilver sister staggered, then fell to her knees as Sam stood. He strode over to her and grabbed her by the hair; she was too dazed to resist as he pressed the gun to her temple and emptied the rest of his clip into the side of her skull. Even at point-blank range the hollow-points lacked the penetration to break through the advanced sub-dermal armour-plating, but the shock of the impacts was more than enough to knock her spark-out. He unceremoniously dropped her to the floor, and walked up to the other sister: He saw that she had stopped shuddering and her eyes had completely rolled up into their sockets, the whole lower half of her face now a smouldering ruin of horrifically burned flesh. He reached down and turned off the crackling stun-stick before turning on his heel an heading towards the exit.

As the wall of noise that was the club sound-system in action washed over him he pondered several questions his little fracas had thrown up: How had incompetent amateurs such as the Desilvers managed to track him down? Who was even aware of his existence that had the kind of money to burn to place an illegal dead-or-alive bounty of that size on his head, and why? And, perhaps most importantly; would he ever be allowed back in the club, and, if so would he have to pay for the destroyed sofa?

"The, uh, the rules were simple, they were written on several billboards near the pier, they were readily available for reading on the ferry and I had given the children a verbal reading of the rules, once before entering the ferry, once after, as requested and mandated by the country. The rules read, as mandated by the county, in order: Do as the ferryman says, never take off your safety vest or safety harness, do not reach over the sides towards the water or any extended limbs from the water, do not disturb the water, if you break the earlier rule by disturbing the water with a pole of equivalent object and the said object is grabbed or becomes stuck you must let go of the object and under no circumstances attempt to help anybody caught by the extended limbs or if the person has gone overboard. During the ride over the lake I, in two minute intervals, reminded them not to break any of the rules, as mandated by the county. By the time we had reached around half way of the ride, one of the older children, age, uh, fifteen I believe? He was caught reaching over the side to take a close picture with their phone. One of the crewmen run and attempted to pull the child away from the side, causing him to drop his phone in the lake. Enraged the child then swung at the crewman with the nearest object in his reach, which was a full bottle of soda from one of the nearby children. Now those things may not seem like a weapon of choice, but they pack a punch of swung hard. This caused the crewman to lose balance and accidentally reach over the side himself. One of the hands grabbed him and dragged under the waves. The associated bell toll was heard. That was just the first we lost that trip."

"We continued on, ignoring the crewman who fell over. After some time, something clogged the engines and we came to a halt for fifteen minutes. During that time a couple of the children, both age fourteen I believe, got into a heated argument. The girl pushed her presumed boyfriend over the board during the argument. The boy managed to grab the railing and was hanging there with all his might. Visibly distressed and clearly struggling, the boy pleaded for help. He was quoted saying something along the lines of "Please help me, they are hurting me, I don't want to die, somebody, they are tearing off my leg, no no" and several expletives. The crewmen then held back the onlookers and brought a fire axe to....well.....it was necessary. By the time we managed to get back moving we found the girl who had pushed the boy over the board, crying and puking over the side. An extended limb caught her by the hair and dragged her beneath. It was less than ten minutes before the engines clogged again and we had to come to a halt for several hours, hence why the ferry was so grossly late. We heard the two bell tolls only at this point, oddly considerably after the...incidents. I, uh, I need to sit down for a second and grab something to drink, after which I will continue with this presentation. Is this fine with you? Very well, I will be right back."

Has no one tried to pull a Hypersphere and try to get StoryBook published? It'd be an anthology of all the classics

"Right, where was I? Ah yes, the second malfunction. The passengers were clearly restless understandably so. As the time went on, more limb- you know what, fuck it, I am calling them hands from here on out despite what the county said. The hands had multiplied, that is to say more of them had extended above the surface. All of them were waving and grasping as reported. In an attempt to take peoples' minds off them, the entire crew, me included, went inside the ferry and blocked the windows. The engineers had come to the conclusion that trying to repair the engines was futile as nothing was seemingly wrong with them and that only time could tell if we could move again. At first people seemed to calm down from not seeing the hands, but soon they started hearing scratching noises from the bottom. Soon there were also small knocking noises from the windows, which we later checked and deemed them to be small pebbles as thrown by the hands. Then we heard one slightly larger knock that cracked one of the windows. It was the cellphone of the teenager who had knocked a crewman over. More and more pebbles were thrown and the scratching intensified over time. We even felt the ferry rock more than what the weather would have rocked it. Look, they were all kids save for the few supervisors and the crew, ok? They went into a silent panic, eyeballing the child who had knocked over the crewman. Even some of the crew had their eyes on him. We had been stuck in place for hours and the tension was high. After three hours, I guess, some of the children and two of the crewmen assaulted and dragged the child outside. We heard a splash and a bell toll. They came back inside and they were, how would I put this, satisfied? They claimed that they had appeased the hands."

"We didn't even notice it before they had opened the door and we heard the pebbles hitting the deck clearly. We would've tried to stop them had we noticed, but it was too late. The panic toned down some, but the scratching and bombardment didn't stop. In fact, they had intensified. And now we heard the bell toll without anybody being dragged into the lake. I mean, the damned place has a concrete wall around it, nobody can scale it with that frequency. Anyways. The bell toll was getting louder and louder. The children were now in full blown panic. Some of them in their panic crashed against the windows and the pebbles started flying in. Soon the pebbles turned into small stones. But when we looked outside, the hands didn't seem to do anything other than grasping at empty air and waving about. Not throwing rocks at us. We have no idea where the rocks were coming from. But the rocks were more than real enough. At this point we had to go under the decks into the engine room to avoid the hail of stones. At that point we had no idea how long had passed, but it felt like an eternity. But now that we were in the engine room, the scratching had moved from the bottom to the deck above. Nobody was going to go check what was making the noise. And...and the rocks were back. They started pouring down the stairs, even though the door was closed. And now they were the size of a man's fist. They, uh, fuck, they started being thrown at the children again. The adults, the crew, me and the supervisor, had to stand in their way or we would've had fatalities. Some of the larger children also blocked the way. My back is still fucking hurting from that whole ordeal. Then it just stopped. The bells, the scratching, the rocks, everything just stopped. Even we stopped. It was deathly quiet. Nobody dared to go see what was going on outside. Then the engine started again. It startled us, but our small panic turned into a frantic race to the cabin."

"The little comfort that the overcrowded cabin had was enough to calm most of them down. They even rotated on who would get to lie down, which was surprising considering how panicked they still were. It was already dark outside, but I knew the lake well and I knew that we were close to the end of the trip now. At least....It was supposed to be near the end of the trip. The pier wasn't there. Thinking it a miscalculation I went on for a while, but there just-there just wasn't a pier to be seen. The passengers didn't seem to notice it, but the crewmen did. We even used the searchlights to look for the pier, but we didn't see anything. Not even the hands. Time went on, but we couldn't find the pier no matter how we looked. Everybody was tired at this point. So we just announced that we would be stuck in place for some more time and that people should sleep. I know we did. Some went to sleep right away, while others were still on the edge about all of this happening. I knew I was. I was staring out the lake while everybody else at least tried to sleep. I was still awake when even the hardest sleepers were dreaming of something more pleasant. My lids became heavy an-what? Why am I going into this much detail? Because it's part of the presentation, you drones. Again, my lids became heavy from the fatigue and I was blinking more and more. And then...after blinking a few times the hands came back. First there were few, but there were more and more after blinking. I shook off my fatigue and went off to wake up the grew to get back on the move. And that's when the pebbles came back. And the scratching. And the bell. Even louder than ever. It woke everybody up, startling one crewman who had fallen asleep outside. He tripped on the pebbles and fell over the side. Everybody retreated back into the engine room, with me remaining out with some crewmen to navigate the damned ferry. And then it started raining."

"Tolling bells, furious scratching, ceaseless bombardment of rocks and now the rain whipping everything else into a frenzy. Fucking Christ. A few passengers, a single supervisor with five kids took refuge in the cabin, saying that the engine room was too crowded. Ironic, as now the cabin was crowded.The ferry wasn't built for that kind of abuse, I was hard pressed to go on while the fuel got lower and lower, thank God that the ferry had a full tank and those damned malfunctions. No matter how much I searched, no matter how well I knew the lake, we just couldn't find any land. It's a goddamned lake, not some inland ocean, but it sure as hell felt like one at that point. It's not even that big. Yes, I am calming down now. Right. At this point I started noticing something. The hands had started rising from the wet surfaces. Nobody at any point has reported them doing that before as far as I have been debriefed. Even still none of the hands were throwing the the pebbles or scratching the boat. The bell was tolling even louder and louder and now it sounded like it was coming from the engine room. Then from the passenger cabins. Then outside. And then, finally. We saw the bell. The bell was hanging out of nowhere, tolling the loudest I had ever heard. And then the engines stopped again. And so did the pebbles. And the scratching. And the rain. And the bell. Total silence once more. I grabbed one of the emergency torches and went outside. The others opted to stay in the cabin. I could walk through the hands without them grabbing me for some reason. I shone the light towards the bell.....
.....
.....
.....
The bell was a dinner bell. Held by one gigantic hand. It was covered in scars, skabs and cracked skin. The smaller hands were all across it's length, scratching it, which sounded identical to the scratching sound from the ship's hull. While scratching, the smaller hands also picked the skabs and threw to fallen off pieces at the ferry."

"It just....I can't explain it further. It was..I don't know...it was something different. I kept staring at it until the rain stopped. I don't know why I stared at it. It didn't move, it didn't make a sound and it sure as hell wasn't pleasant to look at, but I did. The others were flat on their stomachs in the cabin, hoping for it all to end. The hands started retreating back beneath the surface. Slowly. Until the large hand was there alone. It then tolled the bell once, an all too familiar toll. And it too sunk back beneath the surface. The engine started again. We went on and reached the pier. The others came out of the cabin and I announced over the radio that we reached our destination. Three times. Nobody came from the engine room. No answer over the radio either. Just static. I sent one of the crewmen to check down there. I gave him a hand radio to tell me once he was there. I asked him to confirm if the people there were still alive, but the radio was too quiet and I couldn't hear his answer. I turned up the volume and asked again. All I heard was a bell toll from the radio. Then I collapsed from exhaustion, hitting my head on the floor. When I woke up in the hospital, the police told me that the engine room was flooded.
.....
.....
.....
.....
The point of this presentation? My point rather simple: Either you fucking pay me more or close off the God forsaken lake completely! And I am not going to be responsible for the disappearances of over fourty fucking people anymore, especially fucking kids! Do I make myself clear?!
....
....
....
....
....So what if it's the fastest way over? Tourist attraction? Fucking tourist attraction?.....
.....
.....
.....yes, the retirement sounds good too....."


It's shitty, but I haven't slept at all and I can't into horror, but I took a jab at this anyways. Somebody more versed in horror willing to tell me everything I did wrong? Other than things not being scary.

I really wish I could tell you more than "try to not ramble" because it's a firsthand account from a main character that isn't a trained orator. I don't normally do horror, and I classify this as creepy. I liked it, and saying THAT feels inadequate.

...

I want to write about cute animal girls but I don't want to be labelled a furry. How do I do it?

Write.

Fuck the haters.

They'll find something to complain about because that's all they do. It's easier to just ignore them.

I'm sorry, but I'm confused with what you just said. You want to be a furry writer but you don't want to be a furry writer. Is this some existential crisis kind of thing?

Regardless, start writing, and don't stop. You either find your audience, or you get so good at prose the audience will find you.

...

Here in robotics, we specialize as in the namesake's; robotics and mechanical locomotion. As seen in here scientist are working to help improve a Perceptive War Domination Technician Military Robot to boost its combat and security capabilities.

The Robotics Division are just as diverse as we share our studies and findings to industrialists, builders, the military and law enforcement. And even entertainers on helping to build more effective and efficient robots and automative machines to improve the mechanized lifestyle. The people of Robotics also work to ensure Artificial Intelligence will forever be friendly and efficient and not deadly, hostile or inefficient.

Robotics will be there to make the mechanized lifestyle great.

...

Aside from just continuing to practice and practice and practice what tips do you guys have for prose?

I can't progress past introductions. My middles aren't good either but when I actually have to start something it just crashes and burns.

Posting a short 40k story I wrote, feedback would be much appreciated.

--A hush fell over the waterside district of Port Oberforth broken only by the synchronized clap of sixty massive armored feet as Captain Hath Lycerius led three squads of Adeptus Astartes down one of the city’s main streets. Hath smiled inside his helmet as a young woman he would have once considered quite comely dropped the basket of tomatoes she had been carrying and stared at the column in slack-jawed awe. Though all living humans owed their continued existence to the warriors of the Adeptus Astartes less than a billionth of them would ever lay eyes on one and the vast majority of this planet's population had no idea why the most feared warriors of the Imperium of Man would be on their seemingly peaceful world so Hath could hardly fault the woman’s surprise or the look of horror it was soon replaced with. Horror because no good thing could have brought such warriors running past her.

--Though most of the planet’s inhabitants were unaware of the fact, Moribus Pall the planetary governor had ceased delivering the planet’s tithe to the Administratum five years ago. When Basroil, the strike cruiser carrying Lycerius and his company, arrived in the system 48 hours ago it immediately received a transmission from the planet’s surface. Interestingly the transmission was not from the palace of the planetary governor but from what appeared to be the primary command center for the planetary defense force (PDF). Hath quickly arrived on the bridge to speak with their caller, a man who identified himself as General Pabil Estabil commander of Estin’s PDF. The man expressed surprise and obviously feigned happiness at what he termed “the Imperium’s swift response to this unforgivable treachery.” Hath and his company had only dropped in their system as part of an ongoing effort by the [Redacted] to asses the readiness states of the imperial worlds in their area of operation while on their way to rendezvous with Fruit of Truth after having completed an assignment nearby. It had taken the Captain a bit of creative investigation to find out what treachery the general was referring to without exposing the fact that he hadn’t actually been dispatched to deal with it. The situation, once Hath finally managed to piece it together, was almost laughable; the planetary governor had violated Imperial law and stopped sending the planet’s tithe to the Administratum. When the general, someone who would almost certainly had to have been in on the governor’s decision, learned that an entire Astartes company had arrived in the system he assumed they had been sent to restore the planet to compliance and panicked betraying the governor as quickly as he could.

Make the start and then make the end in your head. Then do the middle. Also don't try to stretch it. Make it only as long as it needs to be.

--Captain Hath had been forced to change his opinion of the general almost immediately however when the man was joined on the vox screen by two other individuals whose loyalty to the Imperium he might have doubted individually, but never both together. Bishop Vance Hextor, acting head of the planets Eclisiasty claimed that since the Archbishop had been imprisoned by the governor for protesting the cessation of tithes. The third man in the room had ordered both Bishop Hextor and the general to feign obedience to the governor until help arrived. The third man only identified himself as Parador then revealed something that made even an Astartes like Hath feel uneasy, the seal of an Inquisitor.

...

The thirty power armor-clad warriors ran down the street in perfect lock-step until another broad street intersected the street ahead of them and, at a hand signal from Hath, they fanned out and rounded the corner. The cross street lead onto a long wide jetty that ended at a stone and mortar tower that looked like it belonged on a planet that had lost any technology more advanced than the wheel. On top of the tower however was an all too advanced piece of technology, a powerful long-range AA battery more than capable of downing even a stormhawk. When Captain Hath transmitted his demand for surrender to all of the PDF installations on the planet this was the only one which had yet to respond and General Estabil felt it was likely that the governor’s nephew, a Colonel in the PDF, had holed up inside with any other traitors he could find in the hope that the space marine transmission had been a fabrication.

--Any doubts about the installations loyalty to the Imperium ended instantly as las- and autocannon fire began pouring out of the installation towards the oncoming marines. Hath gave the order to return fire, “In Emperor’s name! Leave none alive!”

--Hath’s marines roared in response and their pace increased even as their superhuman vision pinpointed the defenders’ locations and they returned fire, every traitor would feel the caress of their bolter shells. The traitors’ fire slackened to a trickle in seconds though not before one of the battle-brothers crashed to the ground most of his helmet and part of his head blown away by an auto-cannon shell.

--They arrived at the entrance and Hath nodded to Sergeant Bothari who activated his powerfist and blew the fortified door in. Looking through the vid-feed from the sergeant’s helmet Lycerius saw that the hallway was narrow and easily defended; his marines could succeed with a direct assault but they would likely suffer casualties.

--Unwilling to accept casualties for such a petty installation Hath looked around and saw a window only a single story above as well as a small ledge of stone ringing the tower, he leapt up, grabbed the ledge, and climbed around below a window. The window was not big enough to fit an armored marine but the captain shot out the window then tossed a grenade in through the window as other marines followed his example and swarmed up and around the tower.