Storythread

Storythread: 'Tis the season edition. It's officially Advent now, so I hope some of you writefags have started work on Christmassy stories.

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

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

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

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

Last week's thread can still be found in the archive here
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=xycRCykPv2w
discord.gg/6AwKHGF
youtube.com/watch?v=MsWA_ScgSSg
twitter.com/NSFWRedditVideo

Is it cool to share stories from stuff like pathfinder/dnd/etc in this thread?

no one cares much where the stories come from, but you should probably write it in prose form.

>tfw still haven't heard back from The Bard after finding out about the plagiarism

The setting doesn't matter, but this thread is for creative writing, not accounts of games you played.

I really ought to be more explicit about that in the OP

Although if you want to take a game you played and write a story about it from the perspective of one of the characters, that would be cool. I think that we could do with more stories that are based off D&D, pathfinder, etc, games, given that we're on Veeky Forums.

>How's this sounding so far? Trying to go for a grim, dark fantasy feel, but I feel it's a little too dry so far. Would appreciate some feedback. Ren is immortal, the story continues eventually, when I get to writing it.

Ren was on his knees in the rain. His body was heavy, far too heavy to lift even a single finger as he stared up at the light. Fat drops of rain were pelting his armor, soaking into the cracks and running down his body. He felt cold, colder than he could ever remember; but, there was warmth on his face. Above him was a light. The battlefield was spotted with the orange flares of fire, the harsh light rising up through the smoke the splay against the clouds and color them as red as blood. Above him was a pure, white light.

Someone grasped his knee. Their fingers were weak and trembling, but they still tried to pull him down. Ren glanced down at the man. Dark, woolen robes had been soaked through and clung to his body. It wasn’t rain, but blood. “You… we were going to save you,” the man said, grabbing onto Ren’s other knee. Tears were running down his face and when he coughed, blood ran down his lips. The man sobbed, pounding an arthritic fist on Ren’s thigh. There was a hollow ringing like a bell.

The bloody sword in Ren’s hand clattered against the stone and he stared back up at the light. It swam and twirled, as though it were dancing in the wind. The light trailed and twisted, as though it were eating up the light of the fires. Despite the wretched mayhem beneath it, it glowed a soft blue. Ren’s eyes began to burn. It felt like he was seeing for the first time in years.

1/2

Ah, then my stuff isn't for here. Good luck on the writings then guys!

The din of combat beyond was a low static to Ren, but footsteps carried over it. The clang of metal on stone, the splash of boot through water, it was perfectly clear to Ren. “Just in time, just in time,” the man said. He was a nobleman, and dressed like one. Like Ren, he wore full plate, but his was gilded with flowers and blades. Clutched around his shoulders was a green cape emblazoned with a white sun. He stopped at the top of the stairs and kicked over a knight’s body. The knight made no noise save that of his armor. An axe had been buried in the knight’s neck, but as Ren watched, the knight ripped it free and slowly sat up.

The noble nodded and walked on. He passed another fallen knight. As soon as he did, the knight began ripping crossbow bolts from his chest. The same happened with a third knight, resurrecting despite a collapsed breastplate. Then the nobleman stopped in front of Ren. “Perhaps I should have sent five of you. You almost didn’t kill them all,” he said, looking between Ren and the robed man. Only the knights had resurrected, the half dozen magi laid still in their blood. The nobleman’s eyes narrowed.

He leaned down, putting his face within a hand’s span of Ren’s. The light above seemed to squirm. It darted across the clouds, bouncing back as though struck by a wall. The nobleman’s visage eclipsed Ren’s vision. “How did you wake up?”

Out of the corner of Ren’s vision, he saw the light blast across the sky like an arrow. The nobleman jumped upright, staring after it. The nobleman roared, throwing his arms up in the air. Ren slumped, falling down on himself. The robed man was laughing, his fingers covered in the wax of the binding circle. The rasp of drawn steel made Ren look up. The blade stabbed down, spearing the robed man’s heart. The nobleman drew it out, looked at Ren, and lopped his head off.

2/2

...

I'm confused about how this is supposed to inspire me.

>Fuck, this took me longer than I thought, but I always wanted to write this. Bear with me not being a native English speaker.

You seek my strong arm, young men? My arms grew tired, they don't strike fiercely anymore, they don't draw the bow as quickly as when I was young. I can only give you advice.

Yes, I was young once, young for an elf and as curious and wanderlusty as your forefather you hold in high esteem, for good reasons. You may know him only from tales, I saw him with my own eyes, heard him talk, fought with him when he was nothing but a spunky adventurer of noble background. We elves may seem to mistrust you dayflies, but this is cautiousness for reasons my tale should make you understand. He was a remarkable man, I soon recognized.

When he heard his kingdom dwindling under a corrupt and incompetent ruler, his homeland suffering by famine and civil war, his fiery passion became mine, for we were more than friends, brothers. There was no other man that drew me closer to death and back to life than him. We traversed these spheres many times.

His noble title was enough to give him a claim to the throne. A decade of war, not much for my hundreds of years of existence you might think, but I felt every battle, wound and loss of comrades like you humans do. I still feel them. Though his mission became my mission, I saw the unjustice the ruler of your land unleashed upon the innocent, saw their suffering and strife. Order had to be restored. Bloody days, glory days. We sung hymns of war and soon they extolled our names.

The day came, the throne was his, as well as the hand of his beloved. What a fortunate coincidence that this marriage also allied powerful noble houses. Our struggle did not end, though, but we could store blades and bows away for a while. Reforms were needed, stability and laws. I became an advisor and many times did we argue, but always in the best interest of not only his, but also my country as well, as it has become my home as well.
1/3

And the day I always feared in my heart came faster than I would have ever expected. Time is your most dangerous hunter that even the mightiest warrior can't escape. I could barely accustom myself to his face changing, melting, crumbling. At least it was a peaceful death around his loved ones, including me. Though this was not the greatest grief I ever suffered, after some time I accepted it as inevitable, after I sung songs of mourning in a language alien to your people.

Something kept me there, I saw his face in his sons, I grew attached to this country and its people. So I became the advisor of the new king, one of your forefathers, and mentor of your family. Generations passed, they treated me like the holy weapon of a legendary warrior, a part of their history.

The loss of respect they showed coincided with the downfall of your family. Don't be angry, great heroes still were born in your line and I fought side by side with them, as the kingdom prospered and the covetousness of our neighbours grew. But not only outside forces threatened us, but as the kingdom became safe and rich its people and rulers got lazy and decadent. Unrest and corruption spread again, you can blame me for not being able to stop it. But I'm just one elf. Good men, brave and noble offspring of your venerable ancestor died on the battlefield, sometimes I wished I could have followed them. Good, chaste girls, your relatives, had been married away to the most despicable trash your race has to offer, for political reasons. And your erstwhile king... you knew him, right? I hope the king I helped ascend the throne doesn't have eyes in the hereafter to look at this disgrace of your name.

2/3

You probably despise me too, I may seem like a traitor to your family. Led me tell why I left: As I negotiated the capitulation of the capital with the enemy, the „king“ wasn't there after all, the new ruler offered me to be his advisor. I know this country and as an elf there was no reason to be loyal to the kings family, he might have thought.

And here is the reason why I won't help you to restore your kingdom and put your family line back on the throne. The new ruler had something similar to your ancestor. He was young, impetuous and optimistic and maybe the ruler that will bring safety and stability back and usher a new era. The cycle begins anew. What I helped building, what was as precious to me as it is to you was doomed from the beginning to fall again and rise again. Your ancestor was blessed to die and not see how everything perishes what he fought for, how his lineage decays. But I saw it all. And so I declined his offer, as politely as I could.

You, my young warrior, have potential. But I can't help you. I may look as young as I looked back then, but I feel very old. I lived through many of your kinds lives and I can't witness all this again. These woods offer stability, seasons come and go, life is peaceful and calm. I advise you to find your own peace, your own little place and live a modest life. I'm tired, very tired and seek nothing but peace, not being entangled in your kinds futile struggles. Let me rest.

3/3
Thanks for reading.

>I'm confused about how this is supposed to inspire me.
then your write-fu is weak, my friend. Allow me to demonstrate:


I took the photo out of my wallet - a real honest-to-goodness photograph, back from the days before everything was digital. It was starting to fade a little with age, but I could see their faces there, clear as on the day it had been taken.
My memory, on the other hand, was a little hazier these days. Was it Skye or Alexis who'd had the viper tattoo on her inner thigh? I couldn't remember now... just another little detail lost over the years.
Some things, though, you don't forget.
I looked at the skinny little teenage girl standing in front of me, probably barely old enough for highschool. "Okay." I asked, showing her the photo, "which one of these was your grandmother?"
"Look, mister...' the kid said nervously. 'My mom didn't exactly keep pictures of her mom around, you know? Never even let me meet her. Or her meet me, or whatever. She just said this had belonged to her.' And she held up the ring - the silver skull, with the sapphire eyes and the snake eating it's own tail engraved on the band. It was good workmanship. Valuable enough that it came with a jeweller's mark and a record of sale.
'So you stole this from your mom?' I asked. She shifted awkwardly.
'Look, I just wanted to find my grandma, okay? She's maybe the only family I have apart from my mom, and I'm not going back to her. I just thought I could trace the serial number, and show it to her when I found her to prove I'm her granddaughter. Except the guy said that the ring's last reported owner was you.'
'So maybe she's not your only family, huh? This is my ring alright. I can still see the chip in the sapphire in the left eye, and the repair mark that that damn jeweller in San Jaoquin stiffed me over.'
'So are you, like, my grandfather?' The little glimmer of hope in her eyes was crushing me.

'Eh, maybe? If your mother is the age you say she is, the timeline matches up. What month was she born in?'
'May.'
'Shit. Yeah, that could be me. 'Scuse my language.' It had been a while since I'd been around kids. Somehow I didn't think this girl was a stranger to the odd expletive, but that's no reason to let standards slip. 'I wouldn't like to say for certain - things were pretty wild back then - but there's a better than average chance. If your grandmother was one of the women in this photo, that is.'
'You mean that you could have had a kid with /any/ of these three?' the girl asked, eyeing me with something half between suspicion and admiration.
'Yeah, well, like I said, things were pretty wild back then.'
'Well, which one did you give the ring to?'
'That's the thing, isn't it? It's been a long, long time since that picture was taken. I'm sure I gave it to one of them, but damned if I can remember which one it was. Did you mom ever mention the names Alexis, Skye, or Gracie to you?'
'No. Like I said, she never talked about my grandmother. Except to talk shit about her.'
'Language, young lady.' Like I said, standards. And to her credit she replied:
'Sorry, mister.' Then, after a moment's thought, she added: 'What's the story behind this pic, anyway? Where was it taken.'
'That's quite a story to ask for. I guess if your grandma really is one of these three then it's the story of how your grandparents met, and how your mom... uh, came into being.' I saw a suppressed eye roll there, although she probably wasn't as worldly wise as she thought. I wasn't, prior to the summer the picture was taken, when I learned that there was more to life than just the basic biology. 'Long story, though, but it's not like I've got anything better to do these days - if you got time to hear it?'

'Sure.' Again, that little glimmer of hope. This girl was really desperate for a family. And me? Well, the feeling was stealing over me that maybe this girl could be my granddaughter. And maybe... maybe that wouldn't be so bad.
'Great. Who knows, by the end of the telling I might remember which one I gave that ring to. Well, sit down.' And she did, next to me on the bench on my porch. We had a great evening view over the valley - a valley not unlike the one in the photo. I continued: 'It was taken the summer of the year I turned nineteen. I guess this story is a roadtrip story, of sorts - you can see the bikes there in the photo. Each of the four of us had one. Damn, they were good bikes, although I guess there was nothing really that special about them, in and of themselves. But that journey... that summer...' I trailed off, remembering, and she looked at me expectantly.
'Yeah?'
'Well you know how old people go on and on about how the summers of their youth were so magical?'
'Uh... I guess?'
'In this case, that ain't no exaggeration.'


And that's all I have time for. May natty writing gains be yours - if you exercise your creative muscles according to The Way (of the random forum writefag). If someone else wants to pick this up, feel free, because I doubt I'll have time to (I didn't have time to do this to be honest). In fact, if several people want to have a go at coming up with a story for this prompt that might be cool.

Early draft.

...

...

...

...

All I have so far.
Finished in 2-3 more parts.

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

Hey Mr. Chronicler, I was working on the story partaking that image previous thread:

and But the previous thread got buleted too soon. Just wanted to clarify that I'm still working on it later and that if you're gonna be posting the previous stories of previous thread. Dont post these yet since the story ain't done yet.

...

...

Author of this story from the previous thread here.

So just asking how did my story do? Didn't get enough feed back. So any thoughts and comments? Wana know before I go joining the ranks of the authors here.

...

...

...

...

...

...

>BGM: youtube.com/watch?v=xycRCykPv2w

She was crying in despair, in hopelessness. She did not know how and why this happened to her. Jaylin Clay, age 17, was kidnapped by these cultists who were known as The Order of The White Fleur. There has been an urban legend in which young girls and or young women below the age of twenty are kidnapped, abducted by these cultists. Whom of which a majority of them are composed of women, though there are men who serve in their clergy too. The Order of The White Fleur is said to worship some sort of God they call a "Great Father and Mother." It is said their gods created beautiful and holy maidens to help guide and cleanse the world and help create beauty and fertility among mankind, and whom which the White Fleur Cultists believe the descended from. And they also believe all the ugly women around the world will turn pretty and beautiful, so there's that as well. And the fact that Jaylin Clay is kidnapped and held captive by these somewhat matriarchal cultists just proves that this isn’t an urban legend and is an actual thing.

Indeed many of the victims who're kidnapped by the White Fleur are aspiring young and beautiful girls themselves. And the White Fleur Cult believed that if the "liberate" all the worthy girls from their false whorish mothers and false fathers, all of them will ascend to be alongside the true and great grandest father and mother of all. And unfortunately for Jaylin Clay, she so happens to "qualify." Perhaps it is to do with her winning the school beauty pageant?

"There is no use for those tears Sister Clay. You have proven to be worthy material to join our ranks in liberating the lost daughters of the great Father!" Jaylin Clay was held captive by the cult for about three months. And during those three months she was subjected to whippings that is said to purge her body of physical impurities and sins, anointed with “specialized” oils and tonics to cleanse her spiritually.

But the worse and probably most traumatic experience Jaylin ever endured was her being sexually violated. The women of the White Fleur fondled her, caressed her, all without her consent and willingness. There were cultists who forced themselves on poor and defenseless Jaylin as they laid their mouths and tongues on Jaylin’s skin in an uncivilized act of debauchery as they also claim that it is part of the test of her being “desirably delicious” for her future husband, who’s also a member of the White Fleur. As fertility and procreation is a tradition that is practiced and encouraged throughout the White Fleur’s society.

“You'll begin anew Sister Clay, accept the Great Father and Great Mother. Your true parents await you child.” The white haired priestess clad in the cult’s signature metal armor said in a somewhat soothing and heavenly voice.

“But I already have a family! I want to go home! I WANT TO GO HOME!!!”

“But you are already home dear sister. The fact that you have endured and passed the initiation rites, especially the passionate loving and kisses of your fellow sisters and have such natural born beauty, proves you are worthy.” Said the bald White Fleur Clergyman.

Another cultist; a woman also clad in the cult’s signature metal armor, said to Jaylin while standing beside a brainwashed female initiate who was also nude but covered in a blanket of cloth. “Don’t tell us you still miss your false parents? They never appreciated your true beauty. And Brother Curtis is correct, such beauty you have is proof that you belong with us and our great mother and father, isn’t that right Initiate Bella?”

“Yes sister Jenassa.” Said the brainwashed initiate. “Good.” Sister Jenassa said as she also smooched the initiate as some reward.

“Sister Jenassa.” The White Haired high ranking member said in an un-amused tone.

“Sorry Paladin Rosetta.” The cultist replied.

The white haired “paladin”; Rosetta, then reached for her back and got some sort of book, which Jaylin assumed was their holy text book.

“Sister Jaylin, after enduring our tests and having proof that you are worthy for our ranks. Its time for you to swear your new loyalty to your new great parents.”

“BUT I ALREADY HAVE PARENTS YOU WITCH!!!” Jaylin yelled in defiance while also choking on some tears.

“Forget them sister. Unlike your previous 'parents', The greater Mother and Father will save you and once you have died your soul will belong to them. And once their second coming has happened, everyone will be purified and every woman out there will be reborn in the Great Mother's image.”

Another White Fleur Cultist holding on to some scrolls, standing behind Paladin Rosetta. Began citing from the parchment she was holding.

“Oh great mother and father. Witness us as you have another mortal to be your new devout follower! Behold; Sister Jaylin Clay, for we have liberated her from her false parents, tested her for her worthiness and has passed every single test.”

Then the same brainwashed nude initiate who was close with Sister Jenassa spoke out loud. “OH GREAT MOTHER AND FATHER! HEAR MY CRIES, MY PLEAS AND MY VOICE, FOR I BEG FOR SALVATION.”

“You will receive salvation soon Sister-Initiate Kinsley. For now we are anointing and blessing Sister-Acolyte Jaylin.” The cultist bearing the parchment said to the initiate as she continued. “~May you give Sister Jaylin the strength to combat faithlessness and the faithless! We may be docile and not in any hostilities. But once we rise, once you have given us the strength to rise up! We will crush all who oppose you and our faith! Give Jaylin the strength she needs mother and father. Witness thee, Paladin Rosetta, as she will now officially announce Sister Jaylin as a new member and acolyte… Paladin Rosetta, please do the honors of giving the final blessings for Sister Jaylin.”

...

Paladin Rosetta motioned the “holy text book” on top of Jaylin’s head. “Sister Jaylin Clay, after being considered yourself worthy for our ranks and cause. Do you now accept your new life in the Order of The White Fleur? Do you swear it to the Divine Lecture of the Great Parents? Now and forever?”

Jaylin remained silent as Paladin Rosetta repeated. “I say again, do you accept your allegiance and loyalty to our cause and the Greater Mother and Father?”

“No… I refuse! Not after all of, THIS! YOU MONSTERS TOOK ME AWAY FROM MY FAMILY, FRIENDS. I HAVE A LIFE! WHO ARE YOU TO SAY I’M PART OF YOU!? YOU KNOW WHAT!? FUCK YOU!!! FUCK YOU ALL!!!”

Paladin Rosetta was not amused. “You still refuse??? Sister Jaylin Clay. May I remind you of the position you are in? Although you may have passed the qualifications to be a part of us, you still must not only answer to your superior sisters and or brothers, but swear absolute loyalty! If you continue that rebellious behavior of yours you will either face severe punishments, or if we’re feeling compassionate and merciful; face further re-education.” Though Jaylin Clay still looked down, refusing to make eye contact or even look at Paladin Rosetta. Rosetta said again. “I repeat. Do you swear your new loyalty to our cause? To the Divine Lecture of the Great Parents? To a higher authority figure such as myself? And to the greater parents above?”

Just as Jaylin was about to say something to the cultists, loud noises and bangs were heard from outside the chamber they were all in and from beside the large metal door that provided single entry and exit from this chamber, it sounded like gunshots. The door quickly opened and in came a cultist who was breathing and panting hard, a young male, an acolyte-brother; “THEY’RE HEAR! THEY’VE COME!” He yelled.

“WHO IS HERE!? WHO ARE YOU SPEAKING OF ACOLTYE-BROTHER!? AND WHAT WAS GOING ON OUTSIDE!?"

"THE UNFAITHFUL! THOSE LAW ENFORCERS!"

...

...

...

There's a semi-official Veeky Forums writers discord here.

discord.gg/6AwKHGF

Join to talk about your stories. Or don't. It's up to you.

Side is this even a 40k story? Because of the image that you quoted yet the different story you used, I can't really tell. Just why man? Has anyone else noticed it?

What would you change if you were to edit it? If you can choose a small section that you think can be improved and rewrite it, maybe we could give you feedback on that. It'd be easier for people to advise you if they know what you can see for yourself and what you need pointed out to you.

Also, what would your title for that story be? I swear, coming up with titles for other people's stories is the most tedious and time consuming part of organising the wiki.

no worries, I'm on it.

>Wrote something for a picture last thread
>0 replies
Well, I tried.

Storythreads in a nutshell, friend

Happened to me, too. I think you have to ask for feedback if you want it, maybe?

I'm not sure of the etiquette, myself.

Yeah, that's the way it goes; we always seem to get more stories than feedback. You'd think it'd be easier for people to leave a comment on someone's story than write their own, but apparently not.

Which story was it?

Continually asking for feedback can seem a little pushy, but it doesn't hurt to drop the odd reminder - if you don't ask, you won't get.

>Which story was it?
Kindness revisited, but it doesn't matter now. It's fine. Just made an observation.

www theallguardsmenparty com

At least our man posted the updated ETA. Was due today.

Caught the first live, HYPE unbearable

Just because you actually came up with a title for your story, I'll give my feedback, such as it is:

Yeah, it's pretty good. You could probably have made your paragraphs a little longer - you don't need to start a new line after a single sentence. But your prose is fine apart from a minor grammatical error here and there.

As for the story itself, it works, and I liked it. I don't think it's really long enough for the reader to form a deep connection, and it isn't particularly thematically adventurous, but you tried to do something simple and it worked, and it turned out pretty good.

I'd give more feedback if I actually knew what I was talking about. As it is I can only say "this is good." Or something along those lines.

LEL... This is somewhat the type of reaction I was expecting...

But yeah sounding mean aside, no, I ain't making a 40K story. The image just simply gave me an idea, and I based the context and content of the story based on that 40K pic I saw, thats it. Plus I was just hoping trying make a good hearted and non malicious dickings to 40K fans, no bad intentions made.

Also if some y'all want a 40K related story; here's a related one I made for the Warhammer "Nobledar" AU thread.

...You're welcome to add this in the wiki if needed or considered OK Chronicy.

...

I wanted to leave feedback back when the thread was still active, but it died. That's one of the main issues I have with my work schedule taking me from being able to bump the threads when it slows down between 2330 and 0500 my time.

Your monster, such as it was, was jumped from a young age to old in the span of a post. Instead of simply starting at the beginning and then -time happens- to the end of present time, try interweaving a memory.

>as I looked upon her, scared and wary, I remember the time I first saw a human...

Although, I have to say the ending line was rather perfect in summing up that the being telling the story was the quiet, reserved badass of the forest; a defender for the defenseless, if you were going for that.

...

...

"IT'S THE NATIONAL OFFICE OF LAW ENFORCEMENT AND SECURITY; THE NOLES!"

Paladin Rosetta roared up at the news. "SO THE UNFAITHFUL DARE ATTACK A SACRED SITE!? VERY WELL! And thank you for the information Brother Garrus." Paladin Rosetta placed her holy text back to her side and drew her gold plated custom revolver from her holster. "IT APPEARS THOSE PIGS; THE NATIONAL OFFICE OF LAWN ENFORCEMENT AND SECURITY, HAVE DECIDED TO ATTACK US UNPROVOKED FOR NO REASON! THIS MAY ALSO BE ANOTHER TEST BY THE MOTHER AND FATHER TO DEFEND OUR FAITH AND BELIEF, WE'LL FIGHT TO THE DEATH IF WE MUST!" Rosetta said valiantly all while raising her revolver as the other cultists in the chamber also yelled and praised in acknowledgment and agreement.

Rosetta looked back down on Jaylin Clay. "Stand back Sister Jaylin, for the unfaithful have had the audacity to attack a scared site such as this building!"

One of the cultists; Sister Jenassa, in the chamber grabbed Jaylin in the arm and dragged her to the other side of the chamber.

"Fear not Sister Jaylin Clay, we'll protect you from those faithless NOLES pigs!"

Then the large metal door of the chamber once again bursted open as other cult members who're armed with automatic weapons and wearing the cult's signature metal armor came in and slammed the door shut again. They looked like they were shot at as some were clutching and holding to the wounds that have been recently afflicted to them.

"They're here! They are converging in this position Paladin Rosetta!" A male cultist said.

"Then defend against those pigs! They shouldn't have any right or 'warrant' to attack us or do anything like this!" Various gun fire and yelling was heard again from the outside. There were screams of pain from what was likely other cult members, then yelling and shouting from what sounded like the police was now faintly heard; "HOSTILES ELIMINATED!" "Tango down! Tango down!" "Over there, that metal door! I saw them get in there!"

"TO ARMS BROTHERS AND SISTERS!" Paladin Rosetta yelled. "Brother Curtis, weapons!"

"Yes Paladin!" Brother Curtis, the bald man who was in the chamber the whole time, rushed off to a bookshelf in the chamber and pulled a book that revealed a compartment that hid various firearms, a few automatic weapons but mostly semi-auto rifles. There were now about ten cultists in the chamber, (not counting Jaylin Clay) as the hidden weapons was just exactly enough for them.

Jaylin Clay just sat in a corner where Sister Jenassa placed her in as she shielded her body and was witnessing what was unfolding.

All the cultists, even that other nude zealous initiate was holding onto a weapon and were prepared to shoot and fight against anything that was about to breach those metal doors.

They all then heard some banging on the metal door and came the voice of a female cultist. "Brothers, sisters! The police are here! Please let me in!"

"That sounds like sister Jeanine. I'm coming sister!" A male cult member was just half way to the door but stopped as automatic gunfire was heard from the other side of the door. The cultist who was half way at the door sternly raised his weapon to the door, ready for whats coming.

But then a thud was heard from the other side of the metal door, then a tactical police unit were heard yelling: "DETONATING BREACHING CHARGE, BREACH!"

Then BOOM! ~The large metal doors was blown open by the explosive charge planted by the tactical units. Any cultist nearby, especially the one who has half way near the door was blown back by the force of the blast, and Jaylin sworn she saw the nude zealous initiate flip in the air all by the blast.

The other cultists, especially Brother Curtis, Sister Jenassa and Paladin Rosetta were stumbled a bit by the blast.

The police threw smoke grenades through the door way as a cloud of white smoke now covered the area.

"OPEN FIRE! KILL THOSE PIGS THAT INTERFERE WITH OUR FAITH!!!"

>current BGM: youtube.com/watch?v=MsWA_ScgSSg

Paladin Rosetta ordered everyone to shoot at the white smoke cloud as she was the first to discharge her custom revolver at the smoke, hoping to make a hit on her foes. All the cultists followed as they begun shooting their guns wildly as possible.

Meanwhile the Tactical Response Unit from outside were just about to return fire as the commander said; "Alright teams, don your thermal goggles!" The Tactical Units then donned on their thermal goggles as way to see through the white smoke. "Shield units, provide cover!"

The Tactical Response Units finally entered the chamber, the units bearing ballistic shields were the first ones to enter a midst the gunfire as they utilized their shields to provide cover for the units. Then the rest of the units hid behind their shield bearing comrades in a kneeling position.

Jaylin Clay hid in the corner she's in, covering her ears as she sees gunfire being exchanged between the cultists and the police. Whom she hopes are here to rescue her and not gun her down, mistaking her for another cultist.

The cultist's numbers are getting picked off as the Tactical Response Unit's far superior combat and weapons training made them gun down the cultists one by one.

Although the cultists' good looking metal armor looked tough, it was not enough to stop constant gunfire from eventually piercing and penetrating it as each cultist was going down like flies. It also didn't help the cultist had little to no cover, save for the pillar-columns in the chamber. Then suddenly one of the cultists; Brother Curtis, was shot in the head by one of the police.

"BROTHER CURTIS HAS FALLEN!" Paladin Rosetta yelled, but just then she looked back to Sister Jenassa and saw her metal armor already riddled with numerous bullet holes as she was already bleeding heavily.

"Paladin... If we're going to die today... Its been an honor-" Then Jenassa was killed from a shot to her neck and head.

"SUPERIOR SISTER JENASSA HAS FALLEN!" Paladin Rosetta announced to her remaining fellow cultists as she quickly loaded another six rounds to her revolver and kept defiantly shooting at the police, who simply kept their composure as they just kept gunning down the remaining cultists.

After another three minutes of exchanging gun fire, Rosetta was now feeling weary, she was the one to take the most gun fire. Her armor took one, two, three more bullets till suddenly, she felt penetration. A bullet finally penetrated her ornate armor and struck her in the left side of her abdomen. She cried in pain briefly as she held to her wound with her right hand, while her left hand still held to her revolver.

There was a brief silence that filled the room, the gunfire has stopped as a majority of the cultists have been killed, only four remained; Paladin Rosetta, two cultists who ran out of ammo and are now both hiding behind a column and the nude zealous initiate who was knocked out unconscious earlier by the blast of the breaching charge.

Then the commander of the Tactical Response Unit announced: "Attention Rosetta Lynda Thomas. This is the National Office of Law Enforcement and Security. You and your accomplices have lost. There's no hope for you to win this battle. Surrender now! Unhand your weapon and put your hands in the air."

Rosetta refused to surrender as she defiantly raised her revolver again to shoot but was immediately shot at with three round burst fire by the commander in her lower body again. She yelled pain as she fell to her ass on the ground and lost grip of her weapon as it was beyond her reach.

The injuries that were inflicted to her were clearly painful as she was clutching to her wounds to prevent bleeding. She was now unable to stand up.

"Attention commissioner, main target has been incapacitated. Threats neutralized." The commander said on his radio.

"Acknowledged commander. I'll be down there in while." Replied a female voice.

...

...

...

...

Well your story is interesting. Can't wait to see the fate of the not! Sisters of Battle cult.

...

>This was the ring I was going to propose with.

[In theory the title is actually a story in itself]

Amelia wasn't like other women. For one thing she wasn't entirely human. We first met in Florence. I was lucky to be on holiday there, she was less lucky having died there some forty years before.

We had a number of barriers to our love, the first being that I definitely did not speak Italian, and she couldn't really speak, additionally there was some awkwardness in that I was fairly sure she was trying to dismember me the first time we embraced. I am still quite certain it was love at first sight though. It certainly didn't hurt that the small amount of magic I did know included a binding spell.

Amelia had a delicacy to her that no other woman had matched. Floating above my bed, screaming sweet sweet nothings. Despite the trailing chains she was a tender lover. I thought myself blessed.

Our love blossomed, she took to haunting me through the night, I won't say that she warmed to me - her touch was still of course deathly cold, but I detected more and more lingering glances, more and more enthusiasm in her tortured moans and chain rattling. What the neighbours must have thought...but we cared not a jot. We were in love.

I spent the days researching who she might have been and the nights with her. She became my every waking moment. I began to yearn for her more and more. Counting the minutes until midnight.

All too soon, I had but three nights of my holiday left and while it had been difficult to discuss our future, the prospect of a day without her seemed like an eternity of torture.

She of course bore her own troubles, chains, and indeed fate, far more stoically than I.

There was no way I could bring her back home with me, what would mother think? We must be wed. Betrothed.

There was no way to join her on this side of the divide between life and death. I would go to her. How appropriate that I would do so by the ring which symbolised my love.

I knelt before her, and it seemed she said yes. I clasped the thing to my heart and pulled the trigger.

I never countenanced of course that I might not die. At least not until I had been found and taken to hospital. Nor indeed did I consider that by the time I found my way back to her she might have taken another lover. It took me only a week or perhaps two of nightly fumbling from the cemetery to the hotel to find her again, but by then I was too late. She would not answer my haunting wails. She would not even glance from the window down to me. It could only be that another had stolen her from me. I could not even gain entrance to that run-down hotel to confront her.

What hope is there for the jilted and recently deceased? It's not like I could kill myself in a fit of unrequited passion. I could perhaps mope insouciantly, perhaps even haunt some warm blooded filly, or perhaps the only real option open to me, none of this of course would help me find any kind of eternal rest. My only hope could be to see off my rival. To find who the cad was with his boots by my lovers bed post.

I did my best to observe the hotel through the night hours. Listening desperately for any sign of her.

There was none to be discerned. I began to worry not that another had taken my place but that an exorcist had taken her.

My worst fears were confirmed when I was able to observe the police exhume from within one of the hotel walls what could only be the corpse of my beloved. Tipped off no doubt by renewed interest following my death. Putting her to rest in a cemetery I know not where. I could only think of her spirit lost and alone, crying out for me. I used what little physical influence I had on the world to take the ring, still lying where it had fallen on the bedroom floor and bring it close to my incorporeal chest. I would find her.

I would never give her up. I would never let her down.

I would roam around and not desert her.

I would never let her cry or say goodbye.

2014 called, they said go back

Sorry I really couldn't think of an ending and I sometimes think these threads can be a bit too serious.

I've also never tried that sort of faux gothic before. Felt very odd to write in even if I was just pulling it out of my ass.

I thought this was quite good. Not sure how I feel about the end - even if you wanted to go comic i think you could have come up with something better than rickrolling. Maybe you could write another third post with a more serious ending, so we can compare the two.

>2014
more like 2008. How old are you?

Yay, someone wrote about a picture I posted!

I liked the story; I thought it was interesting in concept and the ending (in spite of being obsolete meme 'humour') got a smile out of me.

As for Jaylin, she still hid in the corner where she was. She still feared the NOLES units would gun her down, thinking she was one of the cultists. So she stayed hidden while taking a peek to see the right time to show herself.

"Teams, secure this area and inspect the casualties! The Commissioner's going to be down here in a while."

"Yes sir."

As the Tactical Response Units were now inspecting the entire chamber, one of the other two remaining cultists who were hiding behind a column, looked to each other and one asked in whispered tones.

"Is this it? Are they going to kill us?" A young male cultist asked to his fellow brother who was older.

"No Mickaya you dolt, its time for us to do the next best thing. Just surrender to the authorities." The older male cultist also replied in hushed tones. The younger man spoke again.

"Surrender? But Brother Jebodiah I thought you were loyal to this cause-"

"First of just call me Jeb, second; forget the formalities. I was never 'loyal' to this crazy crypto-feminist clubhouse. My wife joined this crazy cult and forced me to come along with her, to which I did. It was the only reason I was a part of this, we were poor, we both had shitty jobs and I just loved my wife. But now she's dead. So the next best thing's to just give in. You with me boy? Maybe these NOLES guys won't immediately kill us"

"...I guess so. Not like we have a choice."

The two male cultists got out of their hiding spot with their hands behind their heads. "DON'T SHOOT, WE SURRENDER! WE GIVE! WE GIVE!" The older male; Jeb, said as the younger one; Mickaya, followed.

"ON THE GROUND! ON YOUR KNEES NOW!!!" A Tactical Unit yelled at the both as Mickaya and Jeb dropped and stayed to their knees with their hands behind their head.

"WHAT!? NOOOOOO!!!!" A womanly shriek echoed throughout the chamber. It was the nude zealous initiate. She regained consciousness only to see her fellow brothers and sisters slain and to see Paladin Rosetta injured.

...

Honestly I am not entirely sure how to end it. I think maybe a rewrite and an extra couple thousand words to flesh it out might help. It feels like what I call a sting story (as in with a nasty twist on the end) thoughts?

Also I am rather sorry for rickrolling. Bad form on my part - if amusing for at least one user.

...

I think what you've got is fine except for the end. All you need is an extra paragraph or two. Maybe he sees his beloved, in the flesh, walking past the cemetery arm in arm with another man, and he realises that his suicide had in effect been a human sacrifice that allowed his lover to return from the dead. Then the story ends with a young woman entering the cemetery, whom he plans to seduce, thus continuing the cycle.

To be honest, I hadn't noticed the rickroll.

Probably because I don't spend my time looking for it.

This is how the 'You awake in Westeros' quest could've turned out if they'd taken the engineer background.

...

Trying to post, but Veeky Forums thinks I'm making spam. I don't have any website links or copypasta or anything.

It could be that you have several repeating lines or sentences. e.g:

This kind of repetition is not allowed
This kind of repetition is not allowed
This kind of repetition is not allowed
This kind of repetition is not allowed

I had to cut the number of repeating lines down to this for it to allow me to post. Any more and it registers as spam.