Storythread

okay, someone's going to have to make sure this thing keeps going because I'm going to bed now.

oops, meant to post a pic with that

Damn I was already working on a story on the previous thread, can't believe it had to die prematurely.

Anyways I'll be posting my still working on story. For those who know me and the stories I've done so far; especially the White Scarf, I'm working on a story that takes place in its same world.

So y'all just keep this weekly thread alive folks, please and thank you.

One night in the pub, I found a strange kid in a red hood.

I didn't quite pay any mind to her until it was time to close up shop. I went to her to get her out. It was at that time that she said something.
>Hey, did you know that people once feared wolves?
Truth be told, I didn't pay any mind to it. It was late in the night and I didn't really have any reason to care about it. I just nodded and sent her on her way.

The next day I was talking to a band of hunters who were regulars. They were talking to me about their most recent winter hunting trip. It was honestly not that out of the ordinary until one of them then mentioned firing at a wolf. At that moment, I decided to ask about what the kid said. One of the hunters, I think it was John, informed me that there was a time back in the days of our fathers, before the invention of things like gunpowder and bullets, that wolves were indeed feared. John's father told him all sorts of tales about how wolves ate those who strayed too far into the forest and how they'd steal the women. I asked if any of this was true, but it seemed to be that none of them could really offer much in the way of proof. John said his father once saw a wolf-like person, Felix was reminded of an old tale about a wolf who was chased out of the house of a family with an only daughter, and Will said that his dad knew a guy who supposedly killed a wolf. When I asked what made them so scary, they all had the same answer: the advent of firearms.
Sure, there were ways to take down a wolf beforehand, but they were all honestly incredibly difficult and took more skill than most people had. Guns didn't require that much. With a few hours of practice, a couple bullets and some gunpowder, anyone could fire like a pro. Compared to about twenty years ago, there were less then half as many wolves out in the woods and those what were still around knew to run the instant they saw a gun.

...

>seems kind of odd to present creative writing as greentext
Really? I've seen a lot of (admittedly, mostly fetishy) greentexts that I'd think of as creative writing, just in a different format.
The sentence structure is different, it seems to move the plot to a different tempo, and there's a stronger preference towards first- and second-person perspective, but it seems pretty legitimate.
Though, not something for outside of Veeky Forums.

Lightning flashed through the skies, illuminating the hills. They had been wandering through this waste for -weeks,- searching for some burial mound or something. Hell if Jeremiah knew- the crazy professor leading this expedition had barely spoken to him since they'd left the comforts of civilization. What kind of academic left the plush halls of Everhold for the Barrows? The kind that pays well, evidently. Which is why Jeremiah, several other fellows who were presumably being paid and were probably even human, and the crazy old hook-nosed freak with the floppy hat were trekking through the ghostly terrain. In the middle of the storm season, of course, because it was of "Grahnd importahnce, the likes of which you could not BEHGIN to comprehend."
A startled cry from up ahead broke Jeremiah from his reverie. "There! In the hills!" Some sheepish lowlander no doubt, scared of his own shadow. The shrieking boy was scrambling backwards, feet slipping in every direction on the soaked slate that made up the path.
"What, boy? Lost your nerve?" Grasping the coward by the collar Jeremiah hauled him upright, prepared to deliver some scathing retort.
"No! I saw it! I saw it!" As if on cue, the lightning bloomed again, and Jeremiah saw... something. It towered over the hills, empty eyesockets staring directly at the small party. A skeletal arm was draped almost lovingly around a mound, ossified feet cracking the slate.
With a start, Jeremiah realized something. Something about the mountains. They were too regular, too smooth, too uniform to be natural. Almost like... almost like...
"Professor. I believe we have found your burial mounds."

>Important author note:

This story takes place in the same world as this story: 1d4chan.org/images/5/5b/TheWhiteScarf.png

So it's best and or important you read it first as a way of understanding its world and context. Anywho, enjoy this next story that'd involve the White Scarf, the very first story I wrote for the storythreads.

###

This was a bad time and or a bad place for the lowly beggar; Toby Bailey, to be having a train ride in this hour. Beacause out of sheer bad luck and coincidence members of the "Demonium" gang where in the same train Toby was currently in. The Demonium are the most feared gangsters of the North Splorstom District in the city of Farburg; which is also about three miles away from the city of Nearburg, in which both cities belong to the Twin Distance County.

But as of now Toby the Beggar picked a bad time and also the wrong train to be hitching a ride in. Because the train that Toby hopped on so happened to belong to the Demonium Gangsters due to the owners of the train station being associated and having ties with the gang. And it was also very late at night, about eleven thirty, which most people in Splorstom District are very much asleep and not out in public, save for law enforcement and people who work late at night. But the Demonium Gangsters know how to keep hidden and out of sight from the authorities in their home district of their home town.

Made even worse for Toby is that he does not even know who these gangsters really are. He was just a drifter who constantly traveled city to city and he was just done drifting around the city of Farburg and boarded this train in a bad time. And the four Demonium gangsters noticed Toby the Beggar who was easily recognizable outfit that composed of cardboard cutout "armor pieces" and also the action figures he was fiddling around with and also he had a child's backpack.

The whole time, I couldn't help but feel a bit of pity. I mean, I was still scared as anyone else was, but it reminded me of this bully I knew at school who grew up to be some miserable beggar who lived on the street, trying to scare people into paying him but always failing.

And just as I was thinking about her, I found that kid at a table again, still looking out a window. I decided to strike up some small talk with her this time, asking if she heard those hunters and what her opinion was. I also explained that they weren't trying to be mean or anything, they were just good at their job. Her response was brief again:
>I know the legends of the wolves better than you think. They aren't the beasts you think they are, but everything you heard is true.
I didn't quite get any of this, so I asked her to explain.
>If you ever went outside when the moon's at its fullest, you'd understand.
Before I could ask again, she already ran out. I was completely lost.

Over the next few days, I decided to ask more about the wolves. Nothing that weird girl mention left my mind, and the fact that it bothered me so was cause for concern. I asked those hunters again on what superstitions they knew, I asked the local seers about the strange things they knew about the wolves, and I tried to ask the girl again, though she only gave me more cryptic answers. I learned about the tales about how men became wolves on the full moon, about how it was said that they once lived all the way up there, and how before we conquered our fear, wolves ruled the night.
It all lined up with each other, the superstitions, the fear of the dark, the fear of the moon and its children the wolves. The people were taught to never be outside when it's late because of all those tales of the wolves. The only thing that still didn't make sense was that girl's statements. How could everything be true if they aren't what I thought they were?

In the end, the only lead I had left to follow was the full moon.

"Uhhhhh... Yeah? You wana talk to me? Could you spare any change?" Toby Bailey spoke softly to the three gangsters who noticed and looked at him.

The three Demonium gangsters walked to where Toby was seated, all while the train was moving in a steady pace.

One of the gangsters asked. “Hey pal, you know who we are?” One of the gangsters asked loudly while Toby stayed quiet, likely realizing what he got himself into. The gangster asked again. “I said, you know who we are!? What ya got yourself into!?”

Toby replied softly. "No, I Don't know who you are. Where I'm going... I just hitched a ride 'cause I just wanted to go wherever this train's stopping by."

"You have no idea who we are?"

"...No."

The gang member who questioned Toby laughed out loud, and so did a few gang members in the train car, except for one who was reading a newspaper. The gangster who was taunting Toby drew a knife, but did not use it to threaten Toby, just showed it off, though one of the gangsters who were just sitting was already brandishing a bolo knife. While another one; a scary looking black man, stood up and was holding a hatchet.

The taunting Gangster piped up again. “Old man, we’s the Demonium Gang! We’s one of the most ruthless, toothless and fearsome gangsta’s in this country of Braland, and we’s own half the city of Farburg! The city of Nearburg’s too much of pussies to help and is scared of us, and half of The Twin Distance County knows not to screw with us to! And you don’t know who we are??? And where’ve you been livin’ in, under a rock?!”

Toby replied again wearily. “Please, I just want to get off where ever this train stops to, I mean no harm to any of you. And no, I’m not working for the authorities either. I’m just minding my own business…”

The hatchet wielding gangster joined in and boasted: “Look at this Hobo-Chump, dressing like some cartoon fool and playin’ with dolls! Oh and nice shoes, loser!”

The hatchet wielding gangster continued mocking “-I Know you some poor-ass bitch living off scraps. But who ever gave you those hideous sandals… Flip-Flop-thingies? Must be some cruel and merciless asshole. Again, you playing with children’s toys?”

Another of the gangsters who was brandishing the bolo-knife joined in too. “Also might I ask old man? What are you dressed up as? You trying to impress the kids, geeks and other people who are geeks and got kids? I doubt anyone would find your getup convincing, HAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEH!”

Then suddenly there was a loud wooden tapping sound that echoed in the train car, it was from the Demonium Gangster who was sitting down and reading a newspaper. He was tapping his baseball bat that had nails embedded in it on the ground and unlike the three gangsters making fun of Toby; he was quiet the whole time and had a name visible in his jacket, his name apparently was Dante.

“Alright settle down, settle the fuck down you three. We’re just on our way home to my suite in the Frast Avenue; and quit acting like a bunch of juvenile motherfuckers by making fun of an old homeless guy. Not being some moral considering the heinous and evil shit our organization’s done, but come on Bo Cree, Gavin Brinly and especially you Tyler Grin, act like mature adults at the very least.” Dante said to his fellow Demonium Gangsters in a loud yet bored and somewhat tired sounding voice. He was apparently the leader of this small group and Toby noticed Dante looking a bit longer at the blonde knife-holding gangster; whom Toby assumed was Tyler Grin, as Tyler put away his knife back at his pockets and took his seat again.

While the hatchet wielding black man; who was Gavin Brinly, also took his seat back, while the bolo knife holding gangster, who was possibly Bo Cree, also just went back to his seat and settled his bolo knife weapon on his lap.

“So Dante, sir. How long are we from Frast Avenue?” Bo Cree asked Dante.

“We should be at the Frast Station about in five minutes boys. Then we can have ourselves some cold beers at my suite.” Dante said matter of factly.

Toby had to stay quiet for the rest of the trip; he distracted himself with two action figures he had, playing with them. Time passes by, four minutes have past and the trip for Toby was tense as he could feel the Demonium Gangsters; minus Dante, looking at him with certain intent. Then one of the gangsters; Gavin Brinly, announced.

“Hey everyone, I think I see the Frast Avenue Station!”

But to everyone’s surprise the train did not stop as it kept going and going. “Hey what the fuck is this!?” One of the Demonium Gangsters exclaimed.

Then the public announcement speakers of the train sounded up, it was the train driver. “Attention passengers… Due to some technical difficulties and problems… We will not be stopping at Frast Avenue Station; instead we will be stopping at Lower Blingil Station… Sorry for the inconveniences. Please stay seated till the ride ends at Lower Blingil Station. That is all.” The train driver announced, though he sounded very nervous.

“Lower Blingil? Waits a minute, isn’t dat in the Darlington State? We headin’ to Darlington City something’?” Tyler Grin questioned.

“Nah man, Lower Blingil’s in Champids. The border town separating Darlington State from Twin Distance County and Dayport State.” Said Bo Cree.

“What the hell??? This ain’t right boys; this train could’ve just made it back to the previous station back at South Pret. Why bother going all the way to a station at Darlington State??? Stay alert boys...” Dante said to his group.

>will continue later

...

That night, I found that girl immediately. I asked her if she knew what tonight was.
>Do you want to know what tonight is? What it really means?
After all the guesswork I've had to go through, I only had one answer: yes. I wanted to put this issue to rest, and I wanted her to explain it. To my surprise, the red-hooded girl just drooped her head.
>I feel a bit embarrassed now...
Was it weird of me to think that her reaction almost looked cute? It was the first time she actually looked innocent rather than some enigmatic power who was leading me around by the nose.

When it came time to close the pub for the night, I found the girl by my side. I asked if she had anywhere to go. When she shook her head, then I asked if she minded that I follow her. Again, she shook her head. As soon as I finished locking up for the night, the two of us walked out of town and into the dark forest. I had asked if we should have brought any lights or repellent or even bait, all known ways to at least keep the wolves at bay while we traveled. Instead, she assured me.
>I will make sure they won't bother us. I can promise you that much.
It still made me a bit uneasy to wander around blind, but somehow that girl knew where to go perfectly well. It made me curious what it is she even does most nights. When I asked her, she just assured me that it would be a question for another time. The fact that I was hearing the howling coming closer did even less for my comfort, but I had to trust my partner to lead me safely.

The next thing I saw clearly within the forest as a bonfire. Already around it were packs of wolves, all howling at the moon. The next thing I knew, she too began howling like one of those wolves. She walked ahead of me some more, stepping side by side with the wolves like she was one of them. As her hood dropped, it became clear to me why: she was part-wolf too. On top of her head were two canine ears.

>tbc...sometime soon...ish.

...

This was getting even tenser than it already is for Toby as he just kept on staying quite. The gangsters often exchanged looks with Toby, while also being tense around their seats. Some more time passes and the train's public announcement speakers go up again.

"Attention passengers, we are five minutes away from Lower Blingil Station in Champids Town, Darlington State border. Repeat, five minutes..." The train driver sounded nervous and anxious again.

This felt like forever for the current passengers. Toby kept pre-occupying himself with his action figures and imaginations while the Demonium Gangsters kept tensely quite while also holding firm to their weapons. Another four minutes have passed and everyone knows it.

“One more minute… One more minute till we arrive at the Lower Blingil Station folks… Stay seated…” The public announcement systems sounded up with the nervous sounding voice of the train operator. One of the Demonium Gangsters; Gavin Brinly, said to his fellow gang members as he twirled around his bolo knife.

“You know what boys? I think that operator’s hiding something. I got a feeling that shit’s got something to hide from us. Maybe that train operator’s forgetting who he’s servin’ and I think he maybe in cahoots with people we don’t like.”

Dante then chimed in: “You know, I think you’re right… Assuming that operator’s in cahoots, we stop in Lower Blingil and quickly bag him. Beat some answers out of him if we must; know why we’re stopping at Lower Blingil and not at Frast Avenue Station… ASSUMING there ain’t any witnesses around since we’re in Darlington now…” Dante said with a gritted voice knowing that they’re outside their turf of Farburg and the Twin Distance County.

But Toby either did not overhear their conversation or just minded his own business he was about getting ready to leave and packing his belongings. Finally the train stopped at Lower Blingil Station.

>to be continued

...

Tyler Grin quickly rose up and peeked out to see the station if there were any people, and somewhat confirming to their suspicion, there were no other people outside to board the train.

“Yo Dante soir! No one else around this station! Either there aren’t peeps because its dis late, or we’s bein’ set up!”

And with that everyone; even Toby Bailey. Stood from their seats as the doors of the train opened up and Tyler Grin was the first to not only getting out, but practically dash out of the train as he was suddenly heard yelling.

“HEY YOU MISTER TRAIN OPERATOR! WHERE’S YOU GOIN!? GET BACK ‘ERE YOU LITTLE BITCH!!!”

At the sound of that, the Demonium Gangsters rushed out to, but Dante stayed for awhile to say something to Toby Bailey, who was still standing not knowing what to do.

“Hey hobo, whatever happens out there; DO NOT interfere. You got it?”

“…Uhmm… I really don’t even know what’s with all this, I just wana leave now-”

“Good, then don’t interfere, OKAY!? And here, something for your troubles.” Dante threw about a hundred credits at Toby, mostly in hopes of having to keep his mouth shut and look the other way around as opposed to charity. Dante dashed out of the train car and Toby then followed in suite to just leave and go someplace else where the road leads him.

As Toby moved out of the train car he saw the four Demonium Gangsters all gathered around the Train Operator. Bo Cree was the one to ask as he pointed his hatchet at the Train Driver;

“Why the fuck you brought us here to Darlington State!? And why the fuck were you trying to run away when Tyler here approached as soon as you got of your working post!?”

And Gavin Brinly then motioned his Bolo Knife close to the Train Operator. “Tell us, you setting us up or something!? WELL ARE YA!? YOU FORGETTING WHO YOU WORKING WITH NOW!?”

...

...

Please don't let this thread die yet people, keep bumping so thou may continue and finish this story.

...

I couldn't really say if I was terrified of this development but when I saw that girl look back at me, I was reminded of what she said. I slowly met her in front of the bonfire and none of the wolves even paid heed. I guess she really kept to her word.

Just being in the same place as all those predators made me uneasy. Even with that strange wolf-girl by my side, I constantly looked around to see if any of them noticed me. Before I could make sure, the bonfire suddenly went out for a moment, and I remember a hand grabbing onto me. An instant later, and there were no more wolves in the area, but a herd of people just like the girl, who looked no different than before.

It then came to me that this was a family reunion. The wolf people came together and began chatting. Honestly, with this many people talking, I felt kind of unprepared without at least a drink or two to share around. Actually, did wolves even drink? In any case, I kept close to my new friend as she walked around, meeting her myriad relatives and friends, now not in wolf form.
Curiously, I noticed that while all the wolves referred to each other in all sorts of terms and names, everyone who talked to the hooded girl all kept their contact short and referred to her in one name:
>Man-Pup
Each time they mentioned that, she just looked away and kept going, as if they just insulted her. As soon as I noticed everyone calling her that, I asked her what the deal was. She just dodged the question, but the pattern kept going without any further understanding. I asked again, and she kept on going. Eventually, I pulled her to the side and asked her upfront why she was avoiding me. I asked what a man-pup was and why she looked hurt every time they said it.
She then suddenly grabbed me. She kept her eyes from looking right at me.
>It's true. I'm the child of a man who fell in love with a wolf. I'm not part of a pack. I'm not part of a family. You're the first person to ever approach me.

Hello everybody.
We really need to start taking better care of these threads. I left the last one for five hours and it was dead by the time I got back to it. Damn shame. I wish I could promise to keep a watch over this one, but I'm basically comatose already now and I might pass out any moment.

I should have some new tibits ready to post later today though. Just few small bits of translations a larger thing I've been working on lately.

...

This thread shall not die, dammit.

...

...

...

I didn't quite understand it all, but from how she looked, I could tell that it meant a lot to her that I was even here. As I drew her a little closer in my arms, I thought about asking her about it, but I was more worried that would just bring up something more uncomfortable for me to know about. Instead of asking to go out again, maybe to figure something out, I decided to just stay where I was with her, rubbing her head just to see if it would calm her down any.

For some reason, I'm not sure why, I then asked the wolf-girl where she lived if she wasn't accepted by the wolves.
>I...cannot live with anyone, so I have to hide on the outskirts of town. I tend to be there before nightfall, but ever since I met you...I've been getting too used to lights and noises that I've been getting scared of being alone.
In all my genius, the next thing I said was that she could live with me. I had a room too big for me to live in, so I'd appreciate the company. As I was snapping to my realization, I noticed those big eyes just looking at me, illuminated by the fire. I was about to tell her that she didn't need to listen to anything I said when she stopped me.
>If you're asking me to be part of your pack, then you can't take your words back. A pack needs a leader, and you're the first person to ask if I wanted to join them.
It was pretty much a yes to me. I then decided to ask what it was tonight was about. Was it just for the wolves to become people? Was it just some social gathering? I was hoping my newfound position of power would give me something over her.
>When a fire rises in the forest, it gives a light. Within the darkness of the forest, that light allows us to see all that we've lost. On nights like these, when the moon is fullest and a fire rises, we can see them. For even an instant, we can remember those who are with us no longer.
So I asked if she was looking for someone too.
>Until I met you, there were only two people who cared about a man-pup like me.

...

It was easy enough to guess who those two were. As you expressed your sympathies, something even stranger happened.

From the fire emerged wispy figures, each taking the shape of a lupine figure like the other wolves. Many of the wolves bowed to these new arrivals, some started crying. As you were observing this, you didn't notice that there were two figures - one wolf-like, the other more human - making their way to us. By the time you turn back around to notice this, the little girl leaped right off you and into the arms of the two figures...only that they weren't quite real and she landed on the ground. I then notice her crying. She was hating that they weren't there, that she was all alone now and she had no idea how to live on without them.
Honestly, it felt a little heartbreaking. I've been to my share of funerals, and I've seen this happen more times than I'm comfortable with. I've had to deal with the fallout, where the bereaved family heads over to drink their sadness away, blaming all sorts of things that had no responsibility. I've did all sorts of things to get them to calm down, from talking to knocking a bawling brute out with a flagon, so when I saw this little wolf-girl asking why she couldn't be with her parents, I had to step in and calm her down. She slowly stopped crying, but while I was waiting, I decided to try talking. I wasn't sure if they could her me or if I was being rude, but I wanted them to rest assured that I'd be there for their kid.

For a moment, I think they even smiled. The wolf-girl noticed this too, and smiled as well. It was pretty clear that they were glad someone was there for her.
Soon the fire began dying out. First, the images began flickering out, and then the wolves began muttering goodbyes. Eventually, the fire died out altogether, marked by the howling of the wolves. The trip back was equally as swift, and soon we returned to the familiar borders of town. I asked again if she was okay with living with me.

I wasn't exactly sure I'd be able to give enough for the kid, and it made me even more conscious that I was asking this of her. Before I could chatter on about how I shouldn't be doing this stupid and possibly dangerous thing, she grabbed my hand.
>You've already given me so much just by joining me. I'll follow you anywhere you want.

Honestly, I don't know how she got this stuck to me, but if she's that happy to join me, then who am I to refuse? We started walking to my house when I asked the wolf-girl for her name.
>Seline.

Well, Seline. Let's live together happily, shall we?

...

...

...

I like it, man.

The only thing I have is a verb continuity issue.
>I've did all sorts of things
>I have did
Instead, "I have done" stuff. "I've done" things.

Honestly, it feels like you intentionally stuck that there for someone to find it, almost like you were dating someone to read your stuff.

Uh.....*daring

I blame the phone. Sorry.

...

...

...

...

...

...

...

>youtube.com/watch?v=ICjD3f-8SXE

Dante the leader of the group menacingly approached the apprehended train operator with his baseball bat he brandished. “What’s your plan mister train driver? You trying to set us up, is that what you trying to do? So where’s your police buddies? You better hope they arrive soon, because I’m gonna have to practice my swings on you then…”

The train operator tried to fight back and or struggle free, but as Dante was closing in on the train operator Toby Bailey watched from the distance as he was near the exit way of the train station. Toby knew what was going to happen; those gangsters are going to beat him up for some attempt to set them up, kill him and dump his body someplace else. Toby thought to himself that he can simply walk away, ignore the situation and the cries and pleas of the train operator and forget the whole thing.

“YOU DEMONIUM GANGSTERS WON’T GET AWAY WITH YOUR CRIMES AND WRONG DOINGS FOR LONG! JUSTICE’S GONNA HAVE YOUR BUTTS FOR THIS! YOUR ORGANIZATION HAS BEEN GETTING AWAY WITH YOUR CRIMES FOR TOO LONG, JUSTICE WILL PREVAIL-”

The briefly defiant train operator was cut when one of the gangsters who were holding him punched him in the gut, then the rest who had him restrained started curb stomping him. Toby still watched in silence at what was unfolding and still kept thinking on intervening or not, then Toby could hear Dante speak up again.

“Well it seems you’re associates with the authorities are either not coming or are late. Looks like I’ve got a skull to cave in!” Dante raised his bat, about to strike the train operator while the train operator prepared for the hit. Then to everyone’s surprise, Toby Bailey interfered by throwing a trash bin at one of the gangsters, which he intended to hit Dante but ended up stunning Bo Cree as he fell down, dazed. The gangsters all shot looks at Toby as Dante seemed quite upset as cast a menacing look at Toby.

"You..." Dante pointed his bat at Toby. "YOU... Didn't I tell you to NOT interfere!? I told you this isn't ANY of your business! Now you're going to have to pay for sticking you nose into people's affairs. Tyler Grin, show this bum a lesson, and get the hundred credits back I had to give him..."

"Hehehe with pleasure boss!" Tyler Grin playfully twirled around his knife till he then had it in a stabbing motion, Toby now realized what he has gotten himself into. "Oh and help Bo Cree up, Gavin." Dante spoke again as he turned around back to the train operator whom Dante was about to eliminate again. Then a loud voice that was spoken in a cartoony hero manner was heard.

"THERE WON'T BE ANY ELIMINATION OF INNOCENCE IN MY WATCH, NOT HERE, NOT NOW!"

"...Fuck that better not be him." Dante spoke to himself as he had an idea who that might be as everyone looked at where the voice came from, and they all saw him, The White Scarf. Clad in biker's leathers, wore his specialized biker's helmet, Wakizashi short sword on his side, his signature white cloth scarf and in his ever heroic manners. The train operator was able to slip out of the grasp of the Demonium Gangsters as he quickly dashed off, while also thanking the scarf.

"THANKS FOR COMING IN TO THE RESCUE SCARF!!!" The train operator yelled while running off to the exit.

"You are welcome citizen!" He said to the fleeing train operator then looked back to the gangsters. "So this is the Demonium Gang from the North Splorstom District of the city of Farburg! Such uncouth dress code, criminal behaviors, roguish appearances and generally, EVIL!"

"Hehe, yo boss! This be who we think it is? The White Scarf!? Hahaha! He doesn't sound too bad, and he nothing be but skinny!" Tyler Grin boasted.

Gavin Brinly helped up Bo Cree, as the dazed one questioned, "Hey whats going on? Who the hell threw something at me? Hey, who's that!?" Bo Cree asked.

Gavin Brinly answered, "Shit man, its the White Scarf!"

>song from; still plays:
>youtube.com/watch?v=ICjD3f-8SXE

Toby Bailey then quickly hid behind a column, not knowing if the arriving White Scarf was a friendly to him or not, but really the Scarf was a good guy.

"Get ready beat someone up boys, and be serious and strike together. This is the White Scarf we're dealing with!" Dante told to his fellow gang members.

Tyler Grin again boasted while twirling his knife. "We can take him boss! And you Sacrfy, I'm gonna cut you up- *SHPLOT* AAAAAAAGGGHHHH!!!!!"

Before finishing his boast the White Scarf expertly struck a throwing knife to an eye socket of Tyler as he screamed in pain. Then looked back at the Scarf with both shock and some anger. "YOU MOTHER FUCKA! I'LL KILL YOU FOR THAT! AAAAHHH!!!"

The enraged Tyler attempted to charge at the White Scarf while wildly swinging his knife. But the White Scarf again, threw another throwing knife at Tyler's other eye as he stopped dead in his tracks, and fell to the ground, lifeless as the second knife this time struck deep enough to his brain.

"SHIT! Tyler's dead!?" Gavin Brinly exclaimed.

The White Scarf drew his Wakizashi from his sheath. "So, which one of you evil doers is next?" The Scarf asked as he stood in a fighting stance.

"GET HIM! BOTH OF YOU, GANG UP ON HIM!" Dante loudly ordered to to Gavin Brinly and Bo Cree as he banged his baseball bat on a vacant trashbin.

"I'M A CHOP YOU UP BIKER BITCH!" Gavin yelled, charging at the White Scarf and swinging his hatchet, the Scarf dodged the swing of the hatchet as Bo Cree tried to strike the Scarf with his bolo knife but the Scarf parried with his Wakizashi.

Dante tried to attack the Scarf with his bat, but the Scarf just dodged out of the way in time, away from Dante's swing. Bo Cree charged balls out towards the Scarf, but the Scarf dodged out of Bo's charge struck him in the back with a slash of his Wakizashi. Bo Cree yelled out in agony at the slash on his back, then the Scarf thrusted his blade through Bo's back and quickly retracted as he dodged a swing from Gavin's hatchet. Whereas Bo Cree lied dead on the ground along Tyler.

"You fucking killed him!!!" Gavin still tried hacking away against the Scarf, to which he just dodged in a way to bait Gavin away from Dante while he called out to Gavin.

"Wait, Gavin don't! He's baiting you!" And true to that, as Gavin made another wide swing against the Scarf. The White Scarf used that opportunity by dodging that big swing and struck Gavin with his Wakizashi by thrusting at the jugular area. Gavin gurgled with blood, dropping his hatchet, tried getting a hold on the biker hero then died from bleeding and choking on his own blood.

"YAAAARRGH!" A yell from Dante erupted as the Scarf failed to notice Dante charging towards him. But by the last second, the Scarf has received some intervention by a bystander, in the form Toby tackling with Dante.

Though Dante was surprised by Toby tackling him like that, as he quickly punched Toby in the face and pushed him off. But then the White Scarf reciprocated by quickly sheating his blade, rushing to the lowered Dante and striking at him with his two metal padded hands. And with that, Dante was knocked out.

The Scarf looked around him, seeing the three Demonium Gangsters he dispatched off then looked onto Toby Bailey and approached him.

"Are you okay citizen?"

"Oohhh... Yeah I'm fine, thanks for taking down that bad man mister. Just couldn't bear to see people like that have their way."

"I thank of thee citizen, rest assured these type of people will be apprehended and justice served against them."

>will finish soon

...

...

It's not bad, but it does not quite "click" with me. Here is a few reasons why:
A) I think you spend a little too much time explaining stuff that the reader has already figured out. We don't need a lesson about the fact that werewolf existed (it honestly seems a bit weird that anyone would actually "forget" and not know that wolves were once hated, even in some bum-fuck countryside in ye-olde-times). Similarly, we don't really need the narrator explicitly stating "I realized she was a half-wolf". The reader has already figured that shit long ago.
B) for a very simple story, that relies on images rather than some kind of epic storyline, your writing might be a bit dry. I am probably telling this people a lot here, but when you establish a scene, such as the one with the werewolf gathering with bonfires under the moonlight, you might want to set up the scene some more - ESPECIALLY since you then set up that the purpose of meeting is to gather and look back at what they once owned. The text should have already actually forshadowed the importance of sigh and the image/scene before that is said.

Finally, and this might sound a little crazy, but have you throught of writing it whole in "second person", that is addressed to the girl from the start? You kinda do it at the very end, but I think it could work better for the whole story. Because this kind of story setup almost begs for that. If you'll give me a second, I'll try to draft up an example of what I mean.

That said, I do like the "small" premise a lot. It's actually very simple stories like this, that don't rely on big twists or excessive fantasy and world building that I believe have the most potential and can be most charming. The rest is really a matter of improving your form and style: you know, all that boring but necessary iterative writer's work.

Now give me a second and I'll post a little example of what I think could be done with the story by shifting the perspective.

Short attempted "rewrite" just for excercise/example sake.

I saw you in the pub one late evening. A little red riding hood, huddled in the corner of the room, gnawing on what little meat was left on the bones of your meal. You were there, tiny in the shadow, in patched clothes little too big, alone and quiet.
To be honest, I was not impressed with you that evening. It was not the first time I child has wondered into my fine establishment, with barely enough coins to pay for their meal. The countryside was full of stray children these days. It was not my place to ask where did you come from or where will you go after: I was just about to close the place and you were just another patron standing between me and my just sleep.
When I was wiping the table next to you, you looked at me and opened your mouth. Do you still remember what you asked me that evening?
You said:
>Did you know why people once used to fear wolves on full moon's night?
Truth be told, you were not the first patron to tell ask me something like that late in the night. I just nodded and sent you on your way.

Well, something like that. You might not like the style, but I think the shift of the narration being directed to Seline from the start to the end could make the whole story much more personal, and give the relationship between the two more urgency and weight from the start.

Damn, forgot my name tag in the first post. But I'm sure you can put two and two together, right?

...

I'm gonna be honest. That's probably the most anyone's ever written about anything I've written that isn't disappointment that I used the Chris Orksen punchline again. Honestly, I'm surprised and glad someone's said as much because I've come to a point in these threads that I've reached a point where I'm not sure what I'm even doing and just writing to keep this damn thread afloat.

A lot of what I write honestly just comes as I write it. As much as it limits what I can do, I pretty much feel like I have to do it in order to keep things going lest I find myself so tied up in nitpicking that I lose my window to post.

Either way I appreciate the input.

>A lot of what I write honestly just comes as I write it.
That is fine, I don't write very differently either. And I don't think it's a problem to rush your own work a bit for the opportunity to post it here (I know I've done the same thing too a couple of times). That said, it's a good question to ask yourself whenever you want to go back to your work (perhaps even after you posted it here) and keep working on it. Who knows when it could jump out at you in the future...

Writing is always a at minimum of two-part process. Writing a draft, which is where it's much more important to finish your writing and do whatever is most efficient and comfortable to do just to keep yourself writing and finishing your damn work. And then iteration, rewriting. The kind of feedback I'm trying to give people here is really mostly aimed as suggestion for the second stage of writing: the part where you revisit your work and refine it. Not everyone, of course, even wants to do that, but I find it a bit of a shame that few people do. Even for people who don't aim to be professional or semi-professional writers, it's a shame so many of them leave their own stories without polish. Especially if the stories show potential, and yours does without a doubt.

The most fun thing about writing, I have found, is the second reading stage: the one where you already have all your major story pieces in place, and you start polishing it out, because it's at this stage you can often found a lot of good things in your own story you did not even know were there. Odd synergies, themes repeating even though you did not intended them to, things forshadowning events you did not even know are going to take place at the time of writing...

It's a good thing to go back to your story and reflect on them with a bit of hindsight. Almost universally, it results into people eventually discovering there was more to their texts then they even knew when writing them.

Bump

Image bumps help more.

Is it me or is this guy take a lot of inspiration from Hotline Miami?

...

...

...

...

...

Bump before bed

As the White Scarf helped Toby Bailey up a group of four or five police officers then came in to the train station, indeed this was meant to be a setup that included the White Scarf, but the cops just so happened to be late.

"FREEZE, DARLINGTON STATE POLICE!" One of the police officers yelled and pointed their gun at Toby Bailey, probably thinking he's one of the gangsters who're to be arrested.

"At ease officers! Tis be a civilian who was here at the wrong time and wrong place, yet has helped me out. He is innocent."

"Oh okay, I see you took out some of Dante Smith's enforcers. Wow I see you met Tyler Grin and made pin cushion out of him."

Another officer called out. "I just called in the clean up crew to get this dead chumps to the morgue. And that we've got Dante Smith; high ranking Demonium Official in our cuffs."

Then another cop also told the White Scarf; "Hey Scarf, Chief Gallows is just outside, waiting for you."

"Thank you officer, I'll let you all do the cleaning up. And you civilian, best you also make your leave aswell."

Toby agreed that he had enough action for one late night and also walked alongside the Scarf out of the train station. And once outside the station it is revealed there are more police officers waiting outside who've had the Lower Blingil Station currently shut down and under police control.

The White Scarf looked back at Toby Bailey. "And this is where it's best we part ways civilian. Again, thank you for that small help earlier. Oh and hear, something for compensation." The Scarf dug into one of his pockets and got a hundred worth of credits which he gave to Toby. "Should be enough to get you whole meals that'll last for a few months."

Toby meekly replied back. "Oh thank you sir... Thank you mister White Scarf sir. I guess I should be lucky, now I have two hundred credits. Thank you, and... I'll be on my way now."

"Good luck in your endeavors citizen." And with that Toby Bailey walked out of sight.

>almost done

>Write another draft of something I've worked on for almost a year now
>People in here seem to like it
>People in Veeky Forums's writing discord also like it
>Am also in a semi-serious writing group with other authors
>Submit it for a weekly critique session
>They tear it to shreds
>One person compares it to a fucking Disney Channel cartoon
>A substantial portion of their critiques are focused on things I'd received positive feedback on before

Why is writing so goddamn hard.

Don't give up, user. The writing world is a horrible horrible place to travel. You can do it.

I'm not giving up, but I face an incredibly difficult issue while trying to rewrite this. I think I know how to fix it, but I'm way too embarrassed by my performance to ask for help in that writing group.

Fuck it, I'll just ask here. What I'm currently writing is a story which can best be described as "Earth faces a refugee crisis when roughly 3 million dragons get banished here, all at once. An idiot human and his dragon sort-of-friend have to try and manage it, and fail horribly." I've posted it here before, some of you may remember it.

Right now, my beginning is somewhat unrealistic, because the POV character doesn't immediately go into a mind-shattering panic when the first dragon shows up at his house. I think my solution to this problem is to rework the scene so it proceeds as follows:

>First dragon appears, character examines it for a moment while paralyzed in fear, then tries to flee
>Dragon catches him instantly, holds him down, and casts a powerful magical spell on him
>This spell was an old dragonrider-type bond spell, so both die if either dies, slight empathy, shared dreams, etc.
>Dragon promptly apologies and explains he needed somebody to guide him, since, as far as he knew, Earth was a frozen wasteland
>Dragon is also fairly near death and needs food/water
>Plot proceeds from there now that POV man is basically forced into cooperating

My issue is that I'm not sure if my POV character can ever forgive such an extreme action on the dragon's part, and I do want the dragon to be sympathetic at some point. Does this seem like a hurdle they can overcome to you?

Amidst the police maintaining a perimeter in covering the station and a crowd of other civilians who're looking on the events while also taking the chances of taking photos of the White Scarf. The Scarf approached the police chief of Darlington City Police; Benedict Gallows, and the police chief for the Darlington State Town of Champids.

"And there he is, the Biker Vigilante that is the White Scarf! What did I say Chief Powell? The White Scarf gets the job done, I mean four armed thugs against one guy? What can you say?" Benedict Gallows said in a cheerful and boastful manner to the Champids Town Police Chief.

"I'd say this was ridiculous, having to cooperate with this vigilante. We already had the setup in place and those gangers on our sights yet you insisted bringing in Darlington City's new unlawful vigilante mascot."

"Unlawful? But Chief Powell, I'AM AN AVATAR OF JUSTICE AND THE LAW... And also I did prove to you that I'm an ally of law enforcement and help around with law enforcers and men in blue when needed." The White Scarf said to the Police Chief of Champids Town as Benedict Gallows chimed in.

"He's right, and besides, The Intercontinental Affairs Agency; the IAA, always makes deals with unorthodox people to get the job done, why can't we police do the same thing?" Chief Gallows said in support of the Scarf due to him being an IAA operative who's working as Darlington City's police chief.

"Hmpf fine. Atleast you did you're part scarf. I guess this plan laid out with the help of the IAA did work. Convincing the known Train Operator who's associated with Demonium Gang to help the IAA get a hold on Dante Smith, one of the highest ranking members of said gang from North Splorstom from Farburg. By taking them here to Darlington State just have this vigilante beat them up and have Dante captured."

Chief Gallows then said to the White Scarf. "Oh and I almost forgot Scarf. Here's your payment for the help, and I'll keep in touch with you if the law needs your assistance. And in case "Gumball," might have a job for you."

The Scarf accepted the brown envelope containing his cash payment from Chief Gallows as he got back to his bike an revved the engines.

"Its always good to work for the betterment of spreading justice to un-lawlessness, I'll be on my way now Chief Gallows." The Scarf said.

"Alright then Scarf, we'll all take it from here and have Dante sent and questioned to the IAA. Have those Demonium Gangsters shut down for good, and maybe it can help improve Farburg's inadequate law enforcement. We'll keep in touch as always."

And with that farewell the Scarf revved his engines again and rode off to the night. Back to his home town of Darlington City, or to fight crime again.

###

And there it is. Another story by me, this time set place in the same world that is the White Scarf. Again, best read the first White Scarf story; 1d4chan.org/images/5/5b/TheWhiteScarf.png , and please do share some thoughts and feedback.

...

...

>Why is writing so goddamn hard.
You always need to keep in mind who is your target audience. There is a reason why the theoretical divide between genre and classical fiction exists, and remember that what might gain praise from people who seek genre fiction may be condemned by those who seek classical fiction and vice versa. It seems to me is what you ran into: criticism of classical-oriented critics for a work that clearly styles itself into very zany, light hearted genre fiction work. A good critic should be able to account for it, but in reality, few can. I struggle with this shit every time I'm trying to give feedback to folks around here too.

Ask yourself what is it really that you want to write, and who do you want to write for. That is the only thing that should really matter to you.

That said: yeah, writing is hard. Nobody ever claimed it was not going to be hard. But what would life be without challenge?

>Right now, my beginning is somewhat unrealistic
Two questions here:
A) are you sure that "realism" is really what you want to go after in a story about dragon-induced refugee crisis on Earth? I mean: that sounds like a pretty zany premise that might be better suited by stylization and humor, rather than attempts at realism.
And B): didn't you just describe the protagonist as an "Idiot"? Isn't that actually a sufficient explanation why he did not completely freak out when faced with a dragon for the first time?

Seems to me than rather than giving a forced justification of a special spell (which creates, as you noted, more problems than it solves), the whole situation could be played off a joke, illustrating the protagonists cluelessness, naivité or just incredible phlegmatism. You could have the narrator acknowledge the "unrealism" of situation and play it for laughs, saying that this protagonist was never really great at full assessment of the gravity of his situation.

...

...

The protagonist isn't actually an idiot, that was an exaggeration. He's actually rather sharp, but he makes a lot of mistakes over the course of the story.

I do want the book to be comedic in tone, but I want it to be grounded in reality. The idea in my head was to take a fantastical premise, and then treat it semi-seriously. That's becoming a lot harder to do.

I would just justify it by saying "this is how the protagonist is", but apparently that's immensely unrealistic. You are right, though, the magic spell idea is equally retarded.

Life is hard.

Seriously does this guy take way so much inspiration from Hotline Miami?

yes, we've noticed that he seems to like Hotline miami. If that's his thing, then that's his thing. There's nothing wrong with using other media for inspiration, and I like the fact that he's building on what he's done before.

all that said:

good stuff, but if you want to get better as a writer for your next story you may want to try branching out to something completely different.

...

...

>life is hard
>it's even harder when you're stupid
That sounds like a good tagline for your idiot savant that's a dragonslave.

Oh yeah, bump.

I'm confused on the rules. I've been GMing a game for years now that would make a good story but is this thread strictly for non-campaign related fantasy writing?

You can post it but make it into a story

writing a piece of fiction based on your game setting isn't the same as simply telling people what happened. Basically the difference is between writing from your perspective and writing from a perspective internal to the setting.

...

...

Anyone got any spoopy fantasy pics I can look at for inspiration?

I have some. Are you find with some modern fantasy as well?